For three years, Tamsin Ward believed her marriage was unbreakable. That illusion shatters the moment her husband’s best friend, Isla Parker, returns and quietly begins inserting herself into everything Tamsin once thought was hers.

By the time Tamsin realizes what’s happening, her marriage already feels impossible to stay in.

When Tamsin asks for a divorce, her husband, James Whitmore is blindsided. He refuses, insisting that he cannot live without her.

Desperate and cornered, Tamsin seeks out the most powerful divorce attorney in the country. What she doesn’t expect is to come face-to-face with Leo Price, the first man she ever loved, and the one who vanished from her life without explanation.

Tamsin wants nothing to do with Leo. But James and his powerful family leave her no choice.

Leo agrees to take her case under one condition: she must date him for three months. No secrets. No distance. No pretending the past never happened.

As James tightens his grip and old feelings resurface, Tamsin finds herself trapped between the man who refuses to let her go and the man who once walked away.

TAMSIN

James was two hours late.

I stood in the living room, watching the candles gutter in their holders. Condensation wept down the champagne bottle. The ice had long since melted.

Seven o'clock had come and gone.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Tammy." That's what he'd said when I invited him. When I told him I had something special planned.

It was nine o'clock now.

I dialed his number for the third time, thumb hovering over the call button. Please don't be drunk. Please don't make me regret this.

Two rings.

"Tammy, dear." His voice came through, rushed and breathless. "There's been an emergency. I'm at the hospital."

Cold flooded through me. "What? Are you hurt? James?"

The line went dead.

"James?" I said to no one.

I grabbed my keys.

Ten minutes later, I was white-knuckling the steering wheel toward the hospital.

Today was supposed to be perfect.

The pregnancy test sat in my purse, wrapped in tissue paper inside a small box. I hadn't looked at it since this afternoon. Didn't need to. I already knew what it said.

Pregnant.

After more than three years of trying, waiting, and learning not to hope too much.

I'd passed out during rounds this morning. Woke up in the ER with a colleague pressing test results into my hand and a smile that said she knew before I did.

A little over a month along.

I'd spent the afternoon planning. His favorite meal. Candles. Champagne for him, sparkling cider for me.

I barely remembered parking. Left the car at an angle, half blocking a loading zone, and ran.

"Doctor Tamsin!"

I nearly took down a nurse in the corridor. "Sorry, Sandra. My husband. Have you seen him?"

"Mr. Whitmore? I saw him heading into Ward Eight." She pointed.

"Thank you."

The hallway blurred past. Familiar faces. People calling my name. I didn't stop.

At Ward Eight, I pushed through the door without knocking.

James sat beside the hospital bed, his back to me. His fingers were laced through someone else's.

Isla Parker.

He lifted her hand, pressed his lips to her knuckles, and murmured something I couldn't hear.

So much for the emergency.

"This was the emergency?"

Both of them turned.

James blinked, as if surprised to find me standing there. "What are you doing here, Tammy?"

I stared at him. "You answered my call from the hospital and hung up. What did you think I'd do?"

"I didn't ask you to come."

"You said emergency." I kept my voice level. It took work. "I waited two hours, James."

He exhaled, already annoyed. "I'm under a lot of stress right now. Clearly. You can see Isla's condition."

I scoffed in disbelief. "Her condition?"

"You didn't even ask how she was." His tone shifted into something that might have been disappointment. "Why are you being selfish?"

The word hit like a palm to the face.

Before I could answer, Isla stirred against the pillows. "Please don't fight because of me." Her voice came out soft, apologetic. "I shouldn't have called him. I didn't mean to cause trouble."

She coughed delicately, her fingers tightening in his.

James was on his feet instantly. "Don't talk. You need rest."

"I just want Tamsin to understand." Isla's eyes stayed downcast, perfectly tragic. "She can't blame you for being here."

James turned on me. "Do you see what you're doing? You're upsetting her."

I said nothing. Didn't look at Isla. Kept my eyes on my husband.

"Do you have any idea how important tonight was to me?" I asked quietly.

"Enough, Tammy."

He straightened, and crossed his arms. His irritation smoothed into something that might have passed for patience in bad lighting. "Fine. Say it. Whatever you wanted to tell me, just say it."

I searched his face. Looking for concern, for guilt. For anything that resembled the man I'd married.

Found nothing.

Isla coughed again.

James turned away without hesitation. His voice dropped as he spoke to her, thumb tracing slow circles over her knuckles. She squeezed back.

The world contracted to the two of them. They looked perfect. Complete.

When he finally remembered I existed, his decision was already made.

"Go home, Tammy. It's late. I'll see you tomorrow."

I didn't argue.

I turned and walked out. Didn't stop when someone called my name. Didn't slow until the cold outside stole my breath.

I made it to my car before I shattered.

My hands shook on the steering wheel. I pressed my forehead against it and broke, the sounds coming out harsh and ugly and mine.

Then I wiped my face, straightened, and started the engine.

The drive home blurred. Traffic lights. Empty streets. Other people's lives moving forward while mine cracked apart.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, I'd stopped crying.

The house looked exactly as I'd left it. Table still set. Candles burned to stubs. Champagne gone warm.

I picked up the bottle and threw it.

It exploded against the wall in a spray of glass and gold liquid.

I tore down the decorations. Ripped the tablecloth free. Dumped the gift box into the trash without looking inside.

In the shower, I cried again. Quietly this time. Until there was nothing left to come out.

Finally, I crawled into bed and slept without dreaming.

The doorbell woke me.

My head throbbed. My throat burned. I sat up slowly, then froze as nausea rolled through me in waves.

I barely made it to the bathroom.

When I finally opened the front door, James stood there.

With Isla.

She clung to his arm, head resting on his shoulder, body pressed into his like she'd grown there.

James guided her past me. His hand steady at her back as he maneuvered her to the couch, lowering her with the kind of care reserved for blown glass.

Then he turned to me.

"Prepare the guest room, Tammy. Isla needs to rest."

I stared at him. "No."

His jaw tightened. "This isn't the time."

"If she's unwell, she has her own home." My voice came out flat. "She can hire a nurse."

"It's our responsibility."

"Our responsibility." I let out a sound that might have been a laugh in another life. "How exactly did caring for your best friend become my job?"

He met my eyes, his expression unreadable.

"Because Isla is pregnant with my baby."

TAMSIN

I stared at him.

The words didn't land. Not at first.

"Say that again."

James held my gaze. "Isla is pregnant. With my baby."

I gripped the doorframe. The floor shifted beneath me.

"It happened that night," he continued, voice steady, as if he were discussing the weather. "Two months ago. The night we... the accident."

Accident.

That's what he'd called it when he stumbled home reeking of bourbon and someone else's perfume. When he'd collapsed at my feet, sobbing so hard I thought he might choke on it.

An accident.

"She's almost eight weeks along," he added. "The doctor confirmed it yesterday."

I let out a sound. Sharp and brittle. Might have been a laugh in some other woman's life. "So that's why you were at the hospital."

"Tammy, I know this is a shock." James stepped closer. "But listen to me. This could be a good thing."

"A good thing."

"Yes." His hands found my shoulders. I didn't have the strength to shake them off. "We've been trying for a baby for years. You know how desperately we've wanted this. And now we have a chance."

"A chance," I echoed.

"Isla has agreed to carry the baby to term, then step away." His grip tightened, as if he could press understanding into me through sheer force. "The baby would be ours, Tammy. Our child. Everything we've been waiting for."

Ours.

Tears came before I could stop them. I didn't bother wiping them away.

"Don't you see?" His voice took on that coaxing quality he used when explaining things to difficult clients. "No one has to lose here. Isla moves on with her life. We get our complete family. Everyone wins."

I looked past him.

Isla sat on the couch, picture-perfect stillness. One hand rested low on her stomach in a gesture I recognized from countless pregnancy announcements. She wasn't crying. Wasn't performing. Just sitting there with her eyes downcast, expression serene.

She looked like a Madonna painting.

"Her pregnancy is high-risk," James continued. "She'll need constant care. If you could take some time off work, maybe a year, help me look after her until the baby comes, everything would be perfect."

Perfect.

He tilted his head, searching my face like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. "Why can't you see that?"

I said nothing.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. Met his eyes.

"If you'd shown up last night like you promised," I said quietly, "you would have found out that I'm pregnant."

The silence that followed had weight.

James went still. "What?"

"I'm pregnant." Each word came out deliberately. "With your child. I found out yesterday morning. Spent all afternoon planning how to tell you. Thought you'd be happy." My voice cracked despite my best efforts. "Silly me."

His hands dropped from my shoulders. "Tammy, you're..."

"Pregnant," I finished. "Yes."

I turned my head toward Isla. She was staring at me now, her careful composure finally slipping. Her fingers curled against her stomach in a gesture that might have been protective or possessive. Hard to tell.

"What does it even matter?" I asked no one in particular.

Then I turned and began to walk toward our bedroom.

Behind me, James called my name, but I kept walking.

In the bedroom, I dragged my suitcase from the closet. Threw it on the bed hard enough to make the frame creak.

My hands shook as I yanked open drawers. Grabbed clothes. Didn't fold them. Didn't care.

For three years, James had been everything I'd convinced myself didn't exist.

He'd pursued me relentlessly after we met. Wore down every objection I had. Made me feel chosen in a way that rewired something fundamental in my chest. When his family looked down their aristocratic noses at me, he stood between us like a wall. When they blamed me for our empty nursery, he defended me.

For three years, we'd been perfect.

Then Isla Parker came back from wherever wealthy, beautiful women go to become more of both.

The changes started small. A missed dinner here. A late-night phone call there. James canceling plans because Isla needed something only he could provide.

When I complained, he called me unreasonable. When I asked for boundaries, he called it jealousy.

I'd clung to the memory of who we'd been before Isla. The man who'd made me believe in fairy tales. Told myself it would pass once she left again.

It didn't pass.

Two months ago, James came home looking like he'd been hit by a truck. He dropped to his knees on our kitchen floor and wept like a child.

They'd been drinking. One thing led to another. He didn't even remember it happening until he woke up in her bed with his clothes scattered across her floor.

He begged. Swore he'd cut her out completely. Promised I'd never have to share him with her again.

And I'd forgiven him.

Because I remembered the three years before Isla. The man who'd loved me so fiercely I thought nothing could touch us.

For a while, it worked. James came back to me. Isla vanished. No more midnight calls, no more emergency brunches. It felt like healing.

I'd actually believed I had my husband back.

The door opened behind me.

"Tammy, please." James's voice cracked. "Don't do this."

I didn't turn around. Just kept packing.

"It was an accident," he said. "You know that. We were drunk. I never planned any of this. I never wanted to hurt you."

I zipped the suitcase shut with more force than necessary, and finally looked at him.

"You're asking me to stay in this house," I said slowly, "while your mistress carries your baby. You're asking me to put my career on hold, my life on pause, to care for her. So she can give birth to your child."

"She's not my mistress."

"Then what is she, James?" My voice climbed. "Your best friend? The woman you accidentally slept with? The woman you're now asking me to play nursemaid to for the next twelve months?"

"Tammy..."

"She's supposed to be your best friend," I cut him off. "And I'm supposed to be your wife. Both of us can't be in the same house carrying your children. I won't have it. I won't raise illegitimate babies alongside my own."

He stared at me like I'd suggested we burn the house down.

"It's either my baby or hers," I said. "Though I think last night made it pretty clear which one you'd choose."

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" I laughed, and it came out wrong. "You chose her over me last night. Dismissed me like a secretary who'd interrupted an important meeting. Brought her into our home. And now you want me to play happy families while she incubates your backup plan?"

He dragged both hands through his hair. When he spoke again, his voice had gone raw. "I was terrified. Last night, I was cold to you because I thought if I didn't support her completely, she'd get rid of the baby. I didn't know what else to do."

I studied him. This man I'd married. This stranger wearing his face.

Then I crossed my arms.

"Fine," I said.

Hope sparked in his eyes like a match strike.

"If you want me to stay," I continued, "I'll stay. If you want my forgiveness, you'll have it."

His breath caught. "Thank you. God, Tammy, thank you..."

"On one condition."

He went still. "Anything."

"Isla terminates the pregnancy."

The hope in his eyes died so fast I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

He stared at me in stunned silence.

TAMSIN

"How can you ask for something so absurd?" James's voice climbed. "How do you expect Isla to feel, hearing you say that?"

I let out a short laugh. "Funny. Last night you were terrified she'd terminate. Now you're offended I'm suggesting the same thing. Which version of Isla are we protecting here? The one who didn't want the baby, or the one you convinced to keep it?"

He exhaled through his nose. "Yes, but..."

"Answer a few questions for me," I cut him off.

He nodded, wary now.

"Doesn't Isla have a fiancé?"

"She did." His jaw tightened. "Once he found out she was pregnant with my baby, he called off the engagement."

"Right. And weren't they together for more than two years?"

"They were, Tammy. But I don't see what these unnecessary questions..."

"Unnecessary?" I smiled, but it didn't reach anywhere near my eyes. "One more question then. Is Isla a child?"

He rolled his eyes. "What is all this, Tammy?"

I stood up from the bed. "Forgive me, but I'm trying to wrap my head around something. Isla was with her fiancé for over two years. They definitely had sex regularly. But she took precautions. Understood her cycle. Never once got pregnant."

I took a step toward him.

"Then she sleeps with my husband. One night. Calls it a mistake. Claims she's ashamed." Another step. "But somehow, she conveniently forgot everything she knew about contraception. Forgot about her cycle. And accidentally ended up pregnant. Is now in my home. Expecting me to put my career on hold and play nursemaid while my child competes with hers for their father's attention."

"What are you trying to say, Tammy?"

"I'm saying that if this pregnancy was the unplanned accident you claim, then accidents can be corrected." I crossed my arms. "So what's your decision? Will you have her terminate the pregnancy or not?"

He shook his head. "Tammy, don't do..."

"Yes or no."

Silence.

He just stared at me, mouth half-open like he'd forgotten how words worked.

I took that as my answer and went back to packing.

Of course he wouldn't say yes. Of course Isla would never agree.

They'd played me beautifully. The whole performance about it being an accident. A drunken mistake neither of them planned.

He probably asked her to carry his child months ago. And that snake seized the opportunity with both hands.

In the past, I'd suggested IUI. Even IVF. But no, he'd said we weren't desperate enough yet. All our tests came back normal. He believed I'd conceive naturally if we just kept trying.

All lies.

He'd been prepping his best friend to be his surrogate. Without bothering to use my eggs.

"Tammy." His voice came from behind me.

"Get out."

When he didn't move, I turned. "Get out of my sight, James."

"I accept."

I stared at him. "What?"

"I agree to your terms," he said, clearer now.

I nodded slowly. "All right then. Let's get it over with."

"Right now?" His voice pitched up in surprise.

I smiled but there was no warmth in it. "Why, were you hoping to wait until she delivers? Let's go."

He nodded once and walked out of the room.

I followed behind him, suitcase forgotten on the bed.

We walked into the living room together. Isla sat exactly where we had left her, hand resting on her stomach like she was posing for a portrait.

She looked up and took in our expressions. Her eyes widened with what might have been concern if I still believed in her performances.

"What's wrong?" Her voice came out small, worried.

James didn't waste time. "You'll need to terminate the pregnancy."

Isla's head snapped back like he'd struck her. "What? No. I won't kill my baby."

"Tammy's already pregnant," James said, his voice harder than I'd heard it in months. "It doesn't make sense for both of you to carry my children. You're my best friend, Isla. This situation is impossible."

He paused and took a breath.

"Besides, you told me yesterday you wanted to terminate. That you were worried about Tammy's reaction. I was the one who insisted you keep it." His tone shifted into something almost gentle. "But now that Tammy's pregnant, there's no reason for you to go through with this."

I stared at him.

He was doing exactly what I'd demanded. No hesitation. No backtracking. Just clean, decisive action.

Had I been wrong? Was the pregnancy really an accident and not the calculated trap I'd imagined?

Guilt crept in, cold and unwelcome. This was the man who'd given me three perfect years. Maybe I'd been too quick to assume the worst.

Isla was crying now. Full sobs that shook her shoulders. But James didn't move toward her. Didn't soften.

I walked over to him and took his hand.

I was going to tell him it was fine. That Isla could keep the baby. That I'd accept his child because I still loved him, even after everything.

The words were forming on my tongue when the front door crashed open.

James's mother swept in like a storm front, tears streaming down her face. Happy ones.

"Is it true?" She didn't direct the question at anyone specific. "Am I finally going to be a grandmother?"

I sighed. Of course she was here. The woman who'd spent four years making it abundantly clear that a doctor with no trust fund wasn't good enough for her son.

James nodded.

His mother let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. She rushed past me like I was furniture and pulled Isla into her arms.

"Oh, my darling girl! Congratulations!"

Isla cried harder.

Mrs. Whitmore pulled back, cupping Isla's face between her perfectly manicured hands. "Why are you crying? This is wonderful news!"

"James wants me to abort the baby," Isla choked out between sobs.

Mrs. Whitmore's head whipped toward her son. "What? Have you lost your mind? How can you even think of destroying such a blessing?"

"Tammy's pregnant," James said flatly. "What happened with Isla was a mistake. It needs to be corrected."

His mother stood and walked toward us. Her eyes slid over me like I was something she'd found on the bottom of her shoe.

"This dry well?" Her voice dripped disdain. "She's pregnant? How convenient. I'm sure she's the one demanding you get rid of Isla's child. I've always known she was nothing but a manipulative little bitch."

I let out a short laugh. "Of course. Even if I gave birth to quintuplets, it still wouldn't matter to you, would it?"

She ignored me and turned back to James. "When did you find out Tammy was supposedly pregnant?"

"This morning," he said. "After I told her about Isla."

"And when did you learn about Isla's pregnancy?"

"Yesterday. Right before I was supposed to go home to Tammy's surprise dinner."

Mrs. Whitmore's smile turned poisonous. "Interesting. Four years and three months of marriage, and Tammy never conceived. But the moment she finds out Isla's pregnant, suddenly she is too?" She crossed her arms. "Why didn't she mention it sooner if it's real? Sounds like a convenient lie to me."

"What is that supposed to mean, Mrs. Whitmore?" My voice came out sharper than I'd intended.

Isla gasped. Actual performance-level shock. "Tamsin, how could you lie to James about being pregnant just to get rid of my baby?"

"What nonsense," I snapped.

But Isla was committed now. Full tears, hand clutching her stomach. "Tamsin, how could you do this to him? Don't you want him to be a father? You'd really leave him childless just because you hate me?"

Mrs. Whitmore's hand flew up, ready to slap me.

I caught her wrist mid-swing and shoved it back at her.

"I am pregnant," I said through my teeth. I looked at James. His face had gone carefully blank. I picked up my phone. "I have test results in my email. From Bright Star Hospital."

"But you work there," Isla said softly, almost apologetically. "You could easily have a colleague falsify results."

I looked at the three of them. Mrs. Whitmore with her hatred. Isla with her calculated innocence. James with doubt creeping into his eyes.

I laughed. The sound came out bitter. "Fine. I'll take a home pregnancy test right now."

However, James moved fast, snatched my phone from my hand and hurled it against the wall. It exploded into pieces.

"That is enough, Tammy!" he shouted.