Silas wouldn't physically cheat on me.

I knew him. He was shackled by heavy, archaic chains of morality and duty. And yet, Serena's presence ignited a massive, suffocating panic within me.

I doubled down on playing the role of the perfect wife. I wanted to see who would break first under the suffocating weight of this silent war—him or me.

When he returned to the penthouse that evening, he handed me a velvet box. Inside was a stunning pear-shaped pink diamond pendant on a platinum chain. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and the price tag was undoubtedly astronomical.

It was beautiful. But I hated it.

Unless I was accompanying Silas to a high-profile charity gala, I rarely wore flashy jewelry.

Silas wasn't the type to offer emotional apologies. I knew exactly what the necklace meant: it was his silent compensation for letting Serena eat the meal I had painstakingly prepared.

I smiled, my eyes crinkling at the corners, and accepted it graciously. I saw the tension bleed out of Silas.

I couldn't tell if he was relieved that I hadn't thrown a hysterical fit, or relieved that I wasn't mad at his precious Serena.

Without a second glance, I tossed the velvet box into my nightstand drawer and climbed into bed.

The minutes ticked by. I stared at the ceiling until Silas finally entered the master bedroom. The mattress dipped under his weight, and a familiar scent washed over me.

He reached out in the dark, his strong arm pulling me back against his chest, holding me tightly.

The warmth of another human body seeped through my silk pajamas. I closed my eyes and forced myself to slow my breathing, feigning the deep, rhythmic breaths of sleep.

I waited until his breathing leveled out before opening my eyes.

The pain in my upper abdomen flared again, a sharp cramp radiating down my back. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting mottled shadows on the wooden floor. I stared at that pale moonlight for a long time until the spacious apartment was dead silent.

It was only then, lying in the arms of the man I loved, that the horrifying reality truly set in.

I was dying.

The next morning, after sending Silas off to work, the calendar notification on my phone vibrated. I glanced at the flashing screen and let out a soft sigh.

Today was the day I visited my mother in Queens.

My parents divorced when I was very young.

My father was a charismatic Wall Street broker who had never loved my mother. He’d been having an affair with a wealthy socialite for years and already had a daughter with her—a daughter older than me.

My mother raised me entirely on her own, working herself to the bone just to make ends meet. Seeing her so exhausted, I swore I would study hard, get scholarships, and make her proud.

However, my luck always seemed to work against me. At the elite private school I attended on scholarship, I became the target of a vicious group of rich kids.

I hadn't done anything wrong. Maybe my clothes were last season; maybe I didn't have a chauffeur to drop me off. The more I tried to ignore them, the more I was tormented.

One afternoon, behind the bleachers, they cornered me. I had a jagged brick hidden in my backpack, fully prepared to take their ringleader down with me. The lead girl sneered and stepped forward, ready to carry out whatever cruel act she had planned.

And then, Silas Vance appeared.

He was an upperclassman, already a legend at the school and the heir to a financial empire. He just stood between us, his gaze commanding, and my bullies scattered like cockroaches.

He was smart; he knew they would come back. For the next three years, he would casually acknowledge me in the hallways, acting as a silent barrier against my tormentors.

I survived middle and high school safely solely because of him.

That was why I had chased him so desperately. I fought to get into Columbia University just to be near him, trying to become someone worthy of his world.

But I was still a step too late.

Just as Silas had been a ray of light in my darkness, he had found a light of his own.

Serena Thorne.

My biological father's daughter. My half-sister.

I carried a bag of expensive health supplements and took the subway to Queens.

My mother had remarried years ago and was living a comfortable, happy life with a kind man. I sat in her sunlit living room for fifteen minutes, exchanged a few polite pleasantries, and then excused myself.

I took a cab back to Manhattan. The taxi dropped me off a block away from our luxury high-rise. Walking down the tree-lined avenue, I saw them.

Serena and Silas were strolling side-by-side under the autumn leaves.

Serena was talking, gesturing with her hands as she told a story. I saw my famously unapproachable husband let out a soft laugh, warm lines crinkling the corners of his eyes.

I froze on the sidewalk, my feet glued to the concrete.

As they walked, a scruffy stray dog suddenly darted out from the bushes lining the sidewalk and barked wildly at Serena. Startled, Serena let out a scream and practically threw herself into Silas's arms.

Silas caught her, his hands wrapping around her waist to steady her.

He held that pose for a moment before quickly letting go.

He turned his head, and his eyes met mine. I was standing less than twenty feet away.

Serena recovered faster than he did. "Nina!" she called out, stepping back.

I walked forward, my face entirely blank. Before Serena could spin whatever lame excuse she had prepared, I simply bypassed them, crouched down, and scooped the dirty dog into my arms.

The little terrier mix flinched at first, then buried his wet nose into my cashmere sweater, trembling, but he didn't fight me.

"Silas," I said, looking up at him with a devastatingly calm smile. "I'm keeping him."

The atmosphere between the three of us instantly plummeted to a biting freeze.

Smiling, I smoothed down the dog's matted fur and repeated: "I'm keeping him."