On our third wedding anniversary, my husband flew to Paris for his one true love.
I calmly sliced my steak, the knife scraping against the plate with an irritating screech.
A sudden noise came from the entryway, and I thought my husband had changed his mind.
But when I rushed out, I found myself staring into the deep eyes of his assistant, Jiang Yan.
He had always been restrained and proper, but now he gripped my wrist. “If he doesn’t want you, I do.”
In the shadows behind him, my husband clutched a ticket for a canceled flight, his eyes dark and menacing.
