Two days before our wedding, I stood barefoot in the catering kitchen of a beautiful North Carolina estate, still wearing the white dress from our rehearsal dinner, and heard the man I was supposed to marry explain why he had chosen me.

anything.

And I knew he appreciated having a woman who simplified his life.

I’d confused being useful with being loved.

Perhaps that’s why I remained silent in the restroom.

Beneath the shock, my mind was already working.

Natalie.

That name was familiar.

Ryan had mentioned Natalie Brooks, a colleague, several times in recent months.

Always casually.

Natalie organized a client dinner.

Natalie mishandled a reservation.

Natalie stayed late preparing presentations.

Natalie was “young but ambitious.”

That was his description.

Young.

I studied my reflection.

My mascara remained flawless.

The expensive white rehearsal dress still fit exactly as it had when I purchased it.

Suddenly, I remembered Ryan’s comment when I’d tried it on three months earlier.

“You look ten years younger in that.”

I’d smiled then.

Now I realized it had never been praise.

Someone knocked.

“Claire?”

Aunt Linda.

I opened the door.

Linda was sixty-four, my late mother’s older