“Oh, so you’re the wife,” Paisley said, covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Now I understand why he never takes you anywhere.”

Spencer didn’t correct her. His silence hurt more than any insult could have.

“The Apex Group’s annual event is too important,” Paisley continued, tossing her hair. “Businesspeople, politicians, foreign partners, real people attend. You’d be better off staying home, Phoebe. Looking like that, you might ruin his evening.”

I looked at my husband, waiting for him to say something—anything, but he only offered her his arm. “Let’s go. We’re running late,” Spencer said.

I watched them leave together. The sound of the engine faded into the night, and Mrs. Gladys came toward me with tears in her eyes.

“Ma’am, shall I prepare something for you?” Mrs. Gladys asked gently.

“I’m not hungry,” I whispered.

I went up to my room, closed the door, and looked toward Euclid Avenue, where dinner was being held that night on the top floor of a luxury hotel. My cell phone vibrated, and it was a message from Paisley. I had no idea how she had found my number.

It was a photo taken from the back seat of the SUV. She was smiling and making a peace sign, while Spencer’s profile was visible in the reflection of the window. Underneath it, she had written: “Tonight I’ll make him completely mine. Just you wait.”