Chapter 1 - The Birthday Cake
The birthday cake exploded against my husband’s chest at exactly 8:17 p.m.
One second, Ethan Cole was staring at me from the doorway of a $2.4 million Miami condo he supposedly had never seen before. The next, white frosting was sliding down his navy designer shirt while his mother screamed behind me.
“Madison, what are you doing?”
I smiled. “Surprising my husband on his thirtieth birthday.”
Nobody laughed. Not Ethan. Not his father. Not the two aunts standing beside the elevator with champagne. And definitely not the beautiful blonde woman behind Ethan wearing his Northwestern sweatshirt and nothing on her feet. She looked about twenty-six. Her face went completely white.
“Ethan?” she whispered.
My husband spun around. “Savannah, go back inside.”
That was when Ethan’s mother, Linda, finally saw her. Linda had spent the entire flight from Chicago telling me how lucky I was. Her son was hardworking. Her son was loyal. Her son was “sacrificing his youth” to build a future for me. For the past six months, Linda had also reminded me at every family dinner that my thirty-first birthday was approaching and my “window” would not stay open forever. Give Ethan a baby. Give him a son. Stop wasting time on business.
Now she stared over my shoulder at Savannah and made a sound like someone had punched the air out of her lungs. “Ethan,” she said, “who is that?”
He didn’t answer. I did. “I believe that’s the woman your hardworking son flies to Miami to visit when he tells us he’s meeting investors.”
His father, Richard, took one step forward. “Ethan.”
My husband’s jaw tightened. “Dad, this isn’t what it looks like.”
I almost admired the sentence. Every cheating husband in America apparently received the same emergency script at birth. Before Richard could respond, another voice floated from the living room.
“Savannah? Is the cake here?”
A woman in her fifties appeared carrying two champagne glasses. She stopped when she saw us. Behind her, I could see at least eight people gathered around a marble dining table. Flowers. Champagne. A jewelry box. A catered dinner. This wasn’t an affair hiding in the shadows. It was a family celebration.
Savannah’s mother recovered first. She looked at Linda and smiled nervously. “Oh! You must be Ethan’s parents. I’m Diane Blake. Savannah’s mom. We’ve heard so much about you.”
Richard’s expression hardened. “You have?”
“Of course.” Diane laughed. “We were wondering when Ethan would finally bring everyone together. Especially with the proposal happening tonight.”
Silence. Absolute silence.
His aunt Carol dropped her bottle of champagne. It struck the carpet with a dull thud.
Linda slowly turned toward her son. “What proposal?”
Savannah started crying. “Mom, stop.”
Diane gestured toward the table. “Ethan’s proposal. We’ve been planning it for weeks.” Then she looked at me. Her smile faded. “Forgive me. Who are you?”
I stepped past Ethan and into the condo. He grabbed my wrist. “Maddie.”
I looked down at his hand, then back into his eyes. “Take your hand off me.”
He released me immediately. I walked into the living room carrying the remains of the crushed birthday cake and placed it in the center of the dining table.
“My name is Madison Cole,” I told Savannah’s family. “I’m Ethan Cole’s wife.”
A champagne glass slipped from someone’s hand and shattered.
Diane shook her head. “No. Ethan said his marriage ended last year. He told us the paperwork was finished.”
“It isn’t.”
“He said you lived separately.”
“We slept in the same bed four nights ago.”
Ethan rushed in. “Everybody needs to calm down.”
“Excellent idea,” I said, reaching inside my purse.
Ethan saw the envelope. Every bit of remaining color disappeared from his face. “Maddie, don’t.”
I placed it beside the cake. “For the past eighteen months, somebody has moved more than three million dollars out of our company through consulting contracts, executive travel accounts, and vendor payments. Yesterday, my forensic accountant traced the first major payment to the purchase of this condo.”
Savannah stared at it. Linda whispered, “Oh my God.”
I looked at my husband. “Happy birthday.”
May you like
And then the elevator behind us opened again. Noah Grant, the third founder of our tech firm, stepped into the hallway carrying a black laptop case. He looked at Ethan and said the words that would destroy the rest of Ethan Cole’s life:
“I brought the original financial records.”
