The next morning, I woke up two hours early. As I scanned the bedroom, I realized almost everything in it had been chosen by Troy. Apart from a few sets of clothes, unchanged in three years, there was nothing here worth taking with me.

I tossed some essentials into my suitcase when my phone rang. "Hello, is this Ms. Felicia Hoffman?" a voice from the airline said. "Due to the heaviest thunderstorm of the year, your flight has been delayed and rescheduled for three days later. Do you agree to the change?"

I glanced out at the downpour and sighed. Just my luck. Even the weather seemed determined to keep me here.

"That's fine," I replied. After hanging up, I called my assistant. "Charlie, push it back three days. Be on time to pick me up at the airport."

As I ended the call, I noticed a shadow behind me.

Troy frowned. "Where are you going? Who were you talking to? Who's picking you up at the airport?"

He had probably just been passing by but was now fixated on my conversation, his curiosity getting the better of him. He knew I had no family here. Not a single friend.

In six years of marriage, I had sacrificed everything for him, my friends, my career, my personal life. I helped build his company and then willingly stepped back to focus on having a child through IVF.

For love.

Thinking about it now, I felt like a fool.

I forced a faint smile. "It's nothing. I signed up for a tour group, but it got canceled because of the weather."

His eyes studied me, searching for any sign of deception. When he found none, he relaxed and stepped closer.

"Felicia," he said, his tone softening. "Once we have the baby, how about a month-long family trip to Bali?"

As he reached out to touch my stomach, I instinctively stepped back. I turned to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water, and replied indifferently, "We'll talk about it later."

Normally, he would've left for work by now, but today, he lingered. His brows furrowed at my cold response. "Didn't you always want to go to Bali?"

I had. Once upon a time, I had dreamed of going there with the person I loved. But now? Now, I could go anywhere I wanted, alone.

Before I could reply, the sound of a key turning in the lock interrupted us.

Startled, I turned toward the door just in time to see Louise, his secretary, walking in, wearing a short, tight skirt and a smug smile. "Felicia, sorry to intrude. I saw Mr. Angelo was running late, so I came to pick him up. You don't mind, right?"

My gaze fell to the key in her hand, the only spare key to our home.

I turned to Troy. "You gave her a key?"

A flicker of unease crossed his face before he quickly masked it. "Louise is my secretary. Last time I forgot some documents at home, and it was inconvenient for her to get them. So I gave her a key. It's not a big deal, Felicia. We'll talk when I get back."

He shot Louise a look, and the two of them walked out together.

I let out a bitter laugh. I had once thought his interest in her was nothing more than a fleeting attraction to her youth and beauty. But now? Now, it was clear, he was serious about her.

That afternoon, as I sipped my coffee, my phone rang again. This time, it was a lawyer friend of mine.

"The divorce papers are ready," he said. "I just emailed them over for your review."

I skimmed through the document. "Everything looks good. Thanks. Once I'm back in Chicago, dinner's on me."

His laughter came through the line. "Thanks in advance, Miss Hoffman. And congratulations on your upcoming freedom. Come back soon."

Warmth spread through my chest. Sebastian Curtis had been my closest friend since childhood. Six years ago, when I had moved to Houston for love, he had been the first to object.

"Troy might be good-looking, but you two are worlds apart. Don't be foolish enough to marry him."

And, "That guy's face screams he won't stay loyal. Don't be stupid."

But a woman in love doesn't listen to reason. Back then, I had believed Troy was different. That even if other men strayed, my Troy wouldn't.

He had been poor, but he was hardworking and ambitious. With a little help, I knew he could build something great.

But most of all, I couldn't forget the look of deep affection in his eyes when he had confessed his love to me under the cherry blossom tree.

Now, that memory was fading. When I thought of Troy, the first thing that came to mind was his impatience. His constant justifications for his secretary. The way he scolded me over and over again.

Something felt off.

I moved toward the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the rain was still pouring, blurring the city lights. But even through the haze, I could make out Troy's car parked downstairs.

Even in the storm, I could see them clearly, two figures inside, tangled together in a heated embrace.

Troy, I really did misjudge you.