Julian came back that evening. He wasn't supposed to. They were separated in all but address, yet he kept returning to the penthouse like a ghost haunting his own life.

Nancy was on the balcony. The wind was howling tonight, whipping around the high-rise and masking the sound of the city below. She was holding her phone, staring at a food delivery app, trying to find something that wouldn't make her stomach turn.

Because of the wind and her own anxious thoughts, she didn't hear the glass door slide open.

"Who are you waiting for?"

Nancy jumped violently. Julian was standing right behind her. He snatched the phone from her hand before she could lock the screen.

He looked at the screen. It was just a menu for a noodle shop. But his eyes were wild, irrational.

"Is this why you were packing so fast?" he demanded. "Is there someone else?"

Nancy stared at him. "You asked for a divorce yesterday. Why do you care?"

"I care about my reputation," he snapped. "I won't have my wife running around with some low-life while we're still legally married."

He was jealous. It was absurd, but he was jealous. He looked at her with a possessiveness that made her skin prickle.

If he thought she was moving on... maybe he would let her go faster. Maybe he wouldn't look too closely at her changing body.

Nancy straightened her spine. She looked him in the eye.

"Yes," she said. "There is someone."

The air left the balcony. Julian's hand tightened around her phone until the plastic case groaned under the pressure.

"Who?" The word was a growl.

"His name is Jack," she lied. The name came from nowhere. "He's... nice. He listens to me. He doesn't treat me like a transaction."

Julian stepped closer. He crowded her against the railing. He was so angry he was vibrating.

"Jack," he mocked. "Does Jack shop at Walmart? Does he drive a Honda? Is that what you're worth, Nancy? Average?"

"He's kind," Nancy said, her voice shaking. "Something you wouldn't understand."

"Kindness doesn't pay the bills," Julian spat. "You think some mediocre nobody can give you what I gave you?"

"You gave me nothing but a checkbook and a cold shoulder!"

Julian grabbed her shoulders. His grip was bruising. For a second, she thought he might kiss her. His gaze dropped to her lips, hungry and furious.

The smell of his cigarette smoke hit her.

Her stomach lurched. The nausea was instantaneous and overwhelming.

Nancy shoved him away, hard. She clamped a hand over her mouth and ran for the bathroom inside.

Julian stumbled back. He watched her run. He didn't see a sick woman. He saw a woman repulsed by his touch.

"Fine!" he roared after her. "Go vomit! Am I that disgusting to you now?"

He kicked a terracotta pot near the door. It shattered, sending soil and shards across the deck.

Inside the bathroom, Nancy retched into the sink, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm taking the Hamptons house off the table!" Julian yelled through the door. "You and Jack can live in a box for all I care!"

Nancy rinsed her mouth. She looked at her reflection. Her lip was bleeding where she had bitten it.

"Good," she whispered. "Hate me. Please, just hate me."

She heard the front door slam.

She walked back out to the balcony. She knelt down and began to pick up the pieces of the shattered pot. A sharp edge sliced her finger. She watched the blood drip onto the dark soil, bright red and undeniable.

Later, in his car, Julian dialed his private investigator. "I want a name. Jack. Associated with Nancy. Check her call logs, her gym, everything." He stared at the phone. "If he exists, I want him buried." But deep down, the lack of any digital trail for a "Jack" in the preliminary reports his security team ran earlier gnawed at him. Was she lying? Or was she just hiding him that well?

The next day was hell.

A courier arrived at noon with a velvet box. Inside was a ruby necklace. The card read: Happy Anniversary. Wear this tonight. - J.

Nancy knew Julian hadn't sent this. The handwriting belonged to Liam, his executive assistant, who likely had a recurring calendar alert for "Wife - Anniversary Gift." Julian probably didn't even know it had been delivered.

Nancy stared at the red stones. They looked like drops of blood. Tonight was the family dinner at the Sterling estate. They had to pretend.

She went to the kitchen. She needed to do something with her hands. She baked. It was a Black Forest cake, Julian's favorite, but she made it with a special sugar-free recipe for his father.

When Julian came home to change, the cake was cooling on the counter.

He walked into the kitchen, adjusting his cufflinks. He glanced at the cake.

"We're not bringing that," he said.

Nancy paused, the frosting knife in her hand. "Why? It's your favorite."

"Fiona ordered dessert," he said, checking his watch. "She got a Michelin pastry chef to make those gluten-free tarts everyone likes. We don't need your... homemade attempt."

Nancy felt the sting of tears. It wasn't about the cake. It was about the erasure.

"Right," she said. "Of course. Fiona."

"Hurry up," Julian said. "Put on the necklace. It cost enough, you might as well display it."

He walked out to the garage.

Nancy stood alone in the kitchen. She looked at the cake. She looked at the ruby necklace that felt like a collar.

A dark, destructive impulse seized her. She felt like she was disappearing. She needed to feel something other than this hollow ache.

She cut a slice of the cake.

She knew the recipe. She knew she had used hazelnut flour for the base.

Nancy was severely allergic to hazelnuts. Not instantly fatal, but enough to cause agonizing hives and swelling that would make her unrecognizable.

She picked up the fork. Her hand trembled. Just a little, her mind whispered. Just enough to make the pain physical. Just enough to punish yourself for still loving him. She wasn't thinking clearly; the hormones and grief were a toxic cocktail.

She took a bite. Then another.

She swallowed the sweet, deadly crumbs.

Within minutes, her throat began to itch. Her lips tingled. Heat rushed to her face.

Panic set in. The baby.

"No," she gasped. She dropped the fork. What was she doing? She was a mother now. She couldn't be reckless.

She ran to the sink and drank glass after glass of water. She opened the medicine cabinet and frantically swallowed two antihistamine pills. She stuck her finger down her throat, forcing herself to retch, expelling the cake into the disposal.

She coughed, her eyes streaming. Her neck was breaking out in red blotches. Her breath hitched.

She grabbed her purse, fumbling for her EpiPen. She held it over her thigh.

But she hesitated. Was epinephrine safe for the baby? She didn't know. The antihistamines should hold off the worst of it. She couldn't risk the shot unless her throat closed completely.

Honk. Honk.

Julian was in the driveway.

Nancy ran to the bathroom. She grabbed a bottle of heavy concealer. She slathered it over her neck, covering the angry red hives. She put on the ruby necklace. The large gems hid the worst of the swelling. She prayed the dim lighting of the restaurant would hide the puffiness around her eyes.

She took deep, wheezing breaths, willing her airway to stay open.

She walked out to the car.

"Finally," Julian muttered as she slid into the passenger seat. He didn't look at her. If he had, he would have seen the sweat on her upper lip, the way her hands were gripping her knees.

"Sorry," she croaked.

"You sound terrible," he said, putting the car in gear. "Don't get anyone sick."

Nancy leaned her head against the cool glass of the window. She focused on breathing. In. Out. Survive.

The dinner was a blur of noise and light. Nancy picked at her food, her throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper.

Halfway through the main course, Julian's phone buzzed.

He looked at the screen. His face went pale.

He stood up abruptly. Arthur was in the middle of a toast about family legacy.

"I have to go," Julian said.

The table went silent.

"Julian?" his mother, Victoria, asked.

"It's Fiona," he said. "She's... having an episode. Severe nerve pain. She needs me."

He looked at Nancy. There was no apology in his eyes, only urgency.

"You can take a taxi back," he said.

And then he left. He walked out of his father's house, leaving his wife alone at the table with twenty guests staring at her.

Nancy felt the blood rush to her face. The humiliation was hotter than the allergic reaction.

"He has a... business merger," Nancy said to the table, her voice shaking but clear. "Very time-sensitive. He apologizes."

Arthur looked at her from the head of the table. His old, sharp eyes lingered on her flushed face. He knew. But he nodded.

Nancy lasted ten more minutes. Then she excused herself.

She walked out of the estate. It had started to rain. A cold, hard downpour.

She declined the valet's offer to call a car. She needed air. She walked to the gate, the rain soaking her silk dress.

She made it to a flowerbed before her stomach rebelled. She vomited violently, her body expelling the rest of the toxins and the stress. To any onlooker, it looked like a reaction to bad shellfish or too much wine, not pregnancy.

She got a taxi back to the apartment and collapsed on the sofa.

At 2:00 AM, her phone rang.

It was Sebastian, Julian's best friend. Sebastian was a chaos agent, a man who thrived on drama and cared little for propriety.

"Nancy," Sebastian shouted over a thumping bass line. "You need to come get him."

"Where is he?" she whispered.

"The Box. He's wasted, Nancy. He's trying to fight the bouncers."

"Call Fiona," Nancy said bitterly. "She's the one he left for."

Sebastian laughed, a cruel sound. "Fiona took his platinum card and went home hours ago. She doesn't do 'messy'. You're the wife. It's your job. Besides, his security detail is stuck in traffic on the bridge. If the press sees him like this, the stock tanks. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Nancy closed her eyes. Fiona took the card. Of course she did.

"I'm coming," she said.

She put on a trench coat over her pajamas. She grabbed the keys to the black Range Rover kept in the garage for 'family errands'-a tank of a car that felt safe.

The club was a nightmare of neon and smoke. She found Julian in a private booth. He was slumped sideways, his tie undone, a bottle of vodka half-empty in front of him.

Sebastian was sitting across from him, looking bored.

"Took you long enough," Sebastian sneered. "Traffic bad in the suburbs?"

Nancy ignored him. She walked to Julian.

"Julian," she said, shaking his shoulder. "Time to go."

He opened his eyes. They were unfocused, red-rimmed.

"Nancy?" he slurred. Then his face twisted. "Liar. You're all liars."

He shoved her.

It was a clumsy, drunken push, but Nancy wasn't expecting it. She stumbled back. Her hip checked the sharp corner of the glass table.

The corner dug into her lower abdomen.

Pain flared-sharp and terrifying.

Nancy gasped, clutching her stomach. She doubled over, her face going white.

"Hey!" Sebastian stood up, alarmed. He saw the way she protected her midsection. "Easy, Jules."

Nancy bit her lip until it tasted like copper. Please be okay. Please, baby, be okay.

She forced herself to straighten up. She grabbed Julian's arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

"We are leaving," she hissed. "Now."

Julian blinked, cowed by her intensity. He let her pull him up. He leaned his entire weight on her.

Nancy staggered under the burden, her stomach throbbing, but she didn't let go. She dragged him toward the exit.