chapter 2

"You… what nonsense are you talking about? How do you even know… Elise?" Andrew's eyes darted around, and his words came out stammered and uneven.

"Elise?" Mom frowned in confusion. "Who's that?"

The room fell silent for a few seconds before Andrew turned back to me, forcing a stiff smile.

His tone softened suddenly. "Monica, you've got it all wrong. Elise is just someone from my hometown. You know how poor my family was when I was a kid. Her family helped us out back then, just shared a few meals with us."

He sighed, trying to sound helpless. "Her farm couldn't sell its watermelons this year—she's been having a rough time. She came into the city to ask for my help, and I couldn't just turn her away. There's nothing else between us, I swear."

His face was full of such wounded sincerity that I ended up looking like the unreasonable, overbearing one.

But was it really just helping out?

A month ago, on our wedding anniversary, he came home very late.

As he fastened a bracelet around my wrist—his so-called anniversary gift—he said casually, "I met up with an old friend from back home, just catching up."

That night, I lay awake in bed, and Andrew's driver, Truman Herrera's words kept echoing in my mind.

"Mr. Morton's heading to the station to pick someone up… a woman."

In the ten years we'd been married, it was the first time Andrew had ever come home that late—and the first time he'd missed our anniversary altogether.

Then, over the next few weeks, I'd heard whispers around his office that the afternoon tea menu now included watermelon—by Andrew's personal request.

And now, here it was again—watermelon.

"Enough! You've gone too far!" Dad's angry voice cut through my thoughts.

"He's a grown man. Does he really need your permission to eat a damn slice of watermelon?"

He glared at me. "You spend your days overthinking instead of doing anything useful. We all know Andrew's character better than anyone. Let him eat it!"

Dozens of accusing eyes turned toward me, full of blame and irritation.

But through the crowd, I caught the look in Andrew's eyes—relief and quiet satisfaction, like a man whose plan had just succeeded.

I didn't say another word. I took Juliet's hand and walked away.

That slice of watermelon still ended up in Andrew's mouth.