Standing in the cold light of the breakfast nook, Sarah Vance felt the last pillars of her world turn to dust. She remembered the promises—the whispered vows in the rain, the way Arthur Vance had once looked at her as if she were the sun itself.
For seven years, she had poured her youth, her ambition, and her heart into their home. She had been his strategist, his confidante, and the mother of his child. Yet now, the man standing before her spoke as if her life had been a series of charitable donations. He had forgotten the nights he spent pacing outside her door, begging for a chance. He had forgotten how he had knelt, weeping with joy, when she finally said "I do."
Now, he looked at her with the clinical detachment of a liquidator. Every luxury he had once draped over her with "love" w
