My husband barely looked up when I set my wedding ring on the table beside him and the woman in his arms. He smirked like I was just making a scene, kept dancing, and didn’t realize I had spent six months preparing to vanish without a trace… but by sunrise, the police were searching for a “missing wife,” his secret fraud was starting to surface, and the life he thought he’d won was already beginning to collapse.

That was the pattern of our entire marriage. His goals were the sun we both orbited, and my life was just a moon reflecting his light.

The imbalance had become so normal that I had almost convinced myself that being a supportive wife was my only true purpose in life.

“The affair with Mallory wasn’t even the worst part,” I whispered. “It was finding out that he had forged my name on a second mortgage for our house.”

Silas gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

“I still find it hard to believe he thought he could get away with that,” he muttered.

“He has a very cooperative notary at his firm who doesn’t ask questions when Marshall brings her papers to sign,” I explained.

The discovery of those hidden documents three months ago had been the final push I needed to start planning my exit. I had found paperwork for a million-dollar loan that had been funneled into accounts I was never supposed to see.

When I had cautiously asked him about our finances, he had just brushed me off with a condescending pat on the shoulder.

“It is just a temporary investment for the Highgate project, Cassandra,” he had told me. “The returns are going to be massive, so you just need to trust me.”

Trust me.

That was the phrase he used every time he made a decision that benefited him while costing me a piece of my own security.

“Did you ever think about just confronting him directly?” Silas asked.