Sabrina Cole peeked out from behind Roman Armstrong, her cheeks flushed with a tipsy glow. She skipped into my living room, beaming.

"Genevieve! We brought you mango cake. You have to try it!"

Roman stood by the doorway, a weary indulgence in his eyes. "Slow down, Sabrina. You’ve had too much to drink—don't trip."

He paused, his gaze shifting to me. "Sabrina’s had a bit too much tonight. It’s not safe for her to head back alone, so she’s staying the night. Oh, and you’re great at making that sobering-up soup, aren't you? Go whip her up a bowl."

The audacity hung in the air like a foul stench. It wasn't enough that he was cheating; he was parading his mistress through my front door, expecting me to play the dutiful wife while he coddled her.

My skin turned to ice. "Is she the only officer you have?"

It was Sabrina's commendation ceremony—there had to be dozens of others. Even a hotel would have been a more appropriate choice than our home.

Roman’s expression hardened. "Genevieve, when did you become so heartless?"

My voice betrayed me, trembling despite my efforts to stay composed. "This is my house. Get out. Both of you."

Seeing the redness rimming my eyes, Roman’s tone softened into something patronizing. "Fine, Genevieve. Relax. I’ll call someone to take her home."

He reached for his phone, turning away. But before he could dial, a sharp, piercing scream shattered the silence.

There was a sickening thud. Sabrina had gone over the balcony railing of my room.

Roman’s face turned deathly pale. He dropped his phone and lunged toward the balcony with a frantic speed I had never seen before. A look of raw, unadulterated terror crossed his face—an expression he had never once worn for me.

"Sabrina!"

He scooped her into his arms. Her eyes were squeezed shut, limp against his chest. Roman turned, his face twisted into a mask of pure, murderous rage. He locked eyes with me, his gaze cold enough to freeze blood.

"If I said it wasn't me, would you believe me?"

The back of his hand connected with my cheek in a blur of motion. The force sent me reeling, my head slamming into the corner of the wall. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth.

"Genevieve, at least try to make your lies believable."

That single slap shattered the last of my illusions into a thousand jagged, irreparable shards.

As he turned to carry her out, I blocked his path.

"Wait."

I pulled the divorce papers from my pocket and shoved them into his chest.

"Sign these. Or don't bother leaving."