When my husband fell seriously ill, I finally had a reason to step into his office after seven years of marriage. All I wanted was to ask for his sick leave. Instead, the receptionist froze, eyes widening as she studied my face. “The man you’re talking about… he owns this company. Our boss and his wife arrive and leave together every day. Unless… you’re not his wife.” In that second, my world cracked open.

As the asset freeze tightened and court dates approached, the glamorous frenzy around Steven evaporated like spilled champagne. Friends who used to answer his calls on the first ring suddenly became “unavailable.” Invitations thinned. His name at networking events got the kind of reaction reserved for contagious diseases and lawsuits.

The worst blow, though, didn’t come from me or the courts. It came from Genevieve.

I found out about it during a deposition.

We were sitting in a conference room—me, Ethan, Steven, and Steven’s legal team, who looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. The air smelled like coffee and photocopy toner. A court reporter clicked away at a small machine in the corner.

During a break, Steven glanced at his phone and let out a strangled noise.

“Everything all right, Mr. Condan?” Ethan asked mildly.

Steven threw the phone onto the table. It landed screen-up, still playing a video.

A gossip site’s live stream. The caption: Exclusive: Genevieve Bell spotted in St. Tropez with rival tech mogul Marcus Thorne.