MY CEO HUSBAND CALLED ME A USED FLIGHT ATTENDANT

I didn't remember crossing the room.

One second I was at the door. The next, my hand was closing around the gold chain, and I yanked it out of Shawn's fingers before the clasp could touch her skin.

"Give it back!" Vanessa shrieked.

Shawn's hand clamped around my wrist like a cuff.

"Ivy." He squeezed until the bones ground together. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with *me*?" I tried to twist free. He only held tighter. "You broke into my safe!"

"It's my house. My safe."

"My mother's necklace!"

Vanessa slid off the bed, wrapped in the sheet, and pouted up at him. "Baby, she's hurting my feelings. I only said I liked emeralds. I didn't think you'd actually..."

"You said you liked them." Shawn didn't take his eyes off me. "So I got you one. That's what people do when they love someone."

I stared at him. "She mentioned it. Once. And you went home and opened my safe."

"Stop making this a big deal." He peeled my fingers back one at a time. My knuckles burned. "You sit at home all day, Ive. Who sees you? The mailman? A piece like this is wasted on you."

The chain slipped out of my grip and pooled in his palm.

My vision blurred. The tears came anyway, hot and fast, and I hated every single one.

"It's the last thing she gave me." My voice cracked in half. "She put it in my hand the morning she died, Shawn. You were there. You held me in the hallway."

For a second, something flickered across his face. Then Vanessa's fingers curled around his arm, and it was gone.

He sighed. Like I was a bill he forgot to pay.

"Go home, Ive."

"Shawn..."

"Go home. I'll explain tonight." He tucked the necklace into his pocket. "Not here. Not like this."

I should have said it then. *Divorce.* It sat right on my tongue.

I didn't say it.

I nodded like a fool, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and walked out. Some broken part of me still believed *tonight* meant he would come back as the man who used to write me notes.

---

I made his favorite. Short ribs, braised for six hours. Garlic mashed potatoes. The good wine from our honeymoon.

At eight, I lit the candles.

At ten, I blew them out and lit fresh ones.

At midnight, the ribs had gone cold and glossy in the pan. I sat at the table in the same red dress, scrubbed clean of frosting, and watched the front door.

At two, my phone buzzed.

Not a text from Shawn. A notification. *Vanessa Lowell posted a new photo.*

My thumb hovered. Then I tapped it.

A rooftop. String lights. Shawn on one knee in his navy suit, gazing up at her. A diamond the size of a grape glittered between his fingers. Vanessa had both hands pressed to her mouth.

And around her throat, catching the light, hung my mother's emerald.

The caption read: *A promise ten years late. 💍*

Two thousand likes. Someone had commented, *Price tag?? That's gotta be a million at least.* Vanessa had replied with a winking face.

I called him. It rang five times.

"What?" Music thumped behind him. Glasses clinked.

"You said you'd explain tonight."

"I'm busy."

"I can see that." My hand trembled so badly I had to grip the edge of the table. "A ring, Shawn? A million-dollar ring? And she's wearing my mother's necklace in the picture."

He laughed. Low and cold.

"Vanessa deserves the best. She always has."

"I'm your *wife*."

"You're a woman I pay for." Ice rattled in his glass. "Every dress, every bag, every meal on that table, I paid for. So tell me, Ive. What right does a kept woman have to be jealous?"

The line went dead.

I sat there until the sky turned gray. The candles burned down to puddles of wax. I didn't cry this time. I just stared at the cold food and felt something inside me go quiet.

---

By morning, I'd talked myself into one last try.

His mother, Diane Mercer, was hosting her yearly charity luncheon at the country club. Shawn never missed it. If I showed up, smiled, and played the perfect wife in front of all her friends, maybe he would remember what he had.

I wore pale blue. Pearls. I fixed my makeup three times.

The ballroom went silent when I walked in.

Then I saw why.

Vanessa stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by women with champagne glasses, and she was wearing my wedding dress.

Ivory silk. Hand-sewn lace sleeves. The tiny pearl buttons down the back that my mother's best friend had stitched on by hand, one by one, the summer before my wedding.

It was supposed to be in a garment bag in the back of my closet.

Vanessa caught my eye across the room and waved, fingers fluttering. The diamond flashed on her left hand.

"Ivy, darling." Diane glided toward me, her smile sharp enough to cut. "You came. How unexpected."

"Diane." My voice barely worked. "That's my dress."

"Is it?" She turned and raised her glass to the room. "Everyone, I'd like you all to meet Vanessa. *This* is the daughter-in-law our family truly approves of."

Polite applause rippled through the room. A few women glanced at me, then quickly glanced away.

Somebody whispered, "Isn't that the wife?"

Somebody else answered, "Not for long, I hear."

My face burned. I scanned the crowd for Shawn and found him near the bar, one hand in his pocket, looking bored.

"Shawn." I marched over to him. "Tell me you didn't give her my wedding dress."

"She wanted to see how it looked." He shrugged. "It's just sitting in a closet, Ive."

"It's my wedding dress!"

"Lower your voice. You're embarrassing my mother."

Vanessa floated up beside him and slipped her arm through his. "Don't be mad, Ivy. It fits me better anyway. Doesn't it, baby?"

Shawn didn't answer her. He tapped a spoon against his glass instead, and the whole room turned.

"Thank you all for coming." He smiled his boardroom smile. "I won't keep you. Just a quick announcement. Tonight, I'm taking Vanessa to her wedding dress fitting."

A few gasps. A few delighted squeals.

My stomach dropped through the floor.

"There's just one small thing she needs to complete the look." His gaze slid to me. Flat. Patient. Like he was asking me to pass the salt. "Ive, take off your ring."

The room held its breath.

"What?"

"Your wedding ring." He held out his open palm in front of everyone. "Vanessa wants to see how it looks with the dress. Take it off. You're lending it to her."

I looked down at my hand. At the thin band I'd never taken off once in five years, not even in the shower.

Every eye in the ballroom was on me.

And Shawn's hand was still waiting.