Chapter Two

Briar's POV

After sending the message, I started packing.

Though I had two full weeks before leaving, just thinking about Declan and Beckett conspiring against me made my stomach churn. Every breath of air in this house felt contaminated. I couldn't stand another second here.

I dragged my suitcase from the back of the closet and began sorting clothes and documents. It took over half an hour just to pack my clothes. Then I headed to the master bedroom to check for anything I'd missed.

Searching through the nightstand drawer, my hand touched something unfamiliar.

I pulled it out. A remote control for a vibrator. But the vibrator itself? Nowhere in the drawer.

I'd never used anything like this. Declan had never mentioned it either.

So where was the actual device?

Nausea rising, I threw it back in the drawer and slammed it shut. My hands were shaking, my eyes stinging, but I bit down hard to keep from crying.

That's when I heard keys turning in the lock.

Declan was home.

He walked in smiling, carrying shopping bags. Beckett immediately jumped off the sofa and ran to him.

"Dad!"

Declan ruffled his hair and pulled a box from the bag. "The gaming console I promised. Dad didn't forget."

Beckett clutched it to his chest, grinning ear to ear.

Declan turned to me, holding out another bag. "I felt terrible about not joining you at your parents'. This is for you—I picked it out myself."

I opened the bag. Inside was a deep blue watch box. I lifted the lid to find a women's watch nestled in velvet—exquisite craftsmanship, elegant design. Exactly the style I'd normally like.

If I were still the Briar who knew nothing, I would've melted into his arms right now, saying "you always remember what I love."

But now, the watch felt ice-cold.

Before I could speak, something slipped from Declan's pocket as he sat on the sofa.

A small box hit the floor. The lid popped open.

Inside was another watch. Same brand, completely different style—smaller face, delicate band, lined with tiny diamonds. Obviously designed for someone younger.

I caught a flash of panic in Declan's eyes. Brief, but unmistakable. He quickly recovered, bent down to retrieve the box, and smiled.

"I felt bad about missing the visit with your parents, so I thought I'd get something for your mom too. I was planning to give it to her in person next time we go to Thorne City. Didn't expect it to fall out."

He sounded perfectly natural, even self-deprecating, as if he were just a thoughtful son-in-law making a small mistake.

But I looked at that watch again—the diamonds, the delicate band, the trendy young design. My mother is sixty-four years old. Could she even wear this?

Before I could respond, Beckett ran over, looking up with innocent eyes.

"Mom, Dad said before he left he was buying gifts for the whole family. Of course that includes Grandma and Grandpa!"

Father and son, perfectly synchronized. Like they'd rehearsed this a thousand times.

I stared at Beckett—an eight-year-old child lying without batting an eye. He'd become exactly like his father.

My husband's betrayal was painful enough. But the child I carried and birthed was helping his father and that woman cover their tracks—calling me "Mommy" so sweetly, then turning around to feed me lies.

Beckett's behavior cut deeper than Declan's affair.

Declan clearly didn't want me dwelling on this. He shoved the watch box in his pocket and changed the subject. "By the way, Briar, next time we visit your parents, I'll definitely make time to go with you."

I didn't respond.

"Declan, I need to talk to you."

His smile faltered. A flash of wariness crossed his eyes. "What is it?"

I took a deep breath.

"Declan, I want a div—"

His phone rang.

He grabbed it and strode toward the balcony, calling back over his shoulder, "Briar, emergency call from the hospital. Let me take this."

Almost simultaneously, Beckett ran over and grabbed my arm, chattering about school. "Mom, I want to join the soccer team next semester! Oh, and we got a new math teacher..."

Topic after topic, his voice sweet and soft, like cotton candy trying to smother me.

I looked down at him.

"Beckett, do you really love me?"

He froze for a moment, blinked, then flashed the sweetest smile imaginable.

"Of course! I love you most of all, Mommy!"

Meanwhile, Declan rushed back, his ears flushed red, eyes evasive.

"Briar, I just remembered—I left the school supplies I bought for Beckett at the store. I need to run and get them."

Beckett immediately looked up at him. "Good thing you remembered, Dad! Go, go!"

Declan didn't even give me a chance to speak. He grabbed his car keys and bolted out the door.

The living room fell silent.

Then I finally couldn't help it—I laughed.

One second it was an emergency hospital call. The next, school supplies left at a store. What kind of emergency could make the usually meticulous Declan unable to keep his lies straight?

The answer was obvious.

I thought about Lillian saying they were "against the floor-to-ceiling windows," about seven-year-old Emma seeing things she shouldn't have, about the remote control for a vibrator in the nightstand drawer, about that watch clearly not meant for my mother.

Everyone's perfect husband—considerate, devoted, never loses his temper. What a joke. He wasn't rushing out for school supplies. He was rushing to see his woman.

And my eight-year-old son had already settled back on the sofa, turning on the TV.

As if nothing had happened at all.