Page 3 of The Husband I Left

I smile at my husband.

“Genevieve,” Nancy recovers first, her voice strained. “What a surprise.”

“Good evening, Nancy,” I say, smiling brightly. “You look lovely.”

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” Oliver finally says, his voice strained. His eyes haven’t left my face, though I notice they occasionally flicker to Evan with growing concern.

“Surprise,” I say, the word dripping with false sweetness. The people around us have grown quiet, straining to hear the exchange.

“You said you weren’t interested in attending,” Oliver continues, his composure returning incrementally. “We discussed it.”

“Did we? I seem to remember you telling me you didn’t want me to attend. Not quite the same thing, is it?”

Thomas lets out a chuckle, which he quickly turns into a cough. It still earns him a sharp look from his wife.

“You never enjoy these events,” Oliver says, his jaw tightening. “I was trying to be considerate.”

“Were you? That’s so sweet. You really are the best husband. But honestly Oliver. I am a Sinclair, am I not? And this is a Sinclair Foundation event, is it not? So I should be here, yes?”

“Of course you’re a Sinclair,” Thomas interjects, his voice gruff but not unkind. “And of course you should be attending the family events. With your husband,” he adds, shooting a pointed look at Oliver.

Victoria makes a small sound that’s quickly stifled, and when I glance at her, she’s making a face like she swallowed a lemon.

Oliver’s eyes finally drift to Evan, narrowing slightly. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“We haven’t,” Evan replies smoothly, extending his hand. “Evan.”

Oliver ignores the outstretched hand. “And you are…?”

“With me,” I answer before Evan can respond. “Evan is with me tonight.”

“Genevieve,” Nancy begins, her voice low, “perhaps we should discuss this in private—”

“I don’t think there’s anything to discuss,” I cut her off, amazed that my voice is so steady despite the hammering of my heart. “I’m simply attending the gala with a friend. Isn’t that what you’re doing, Oliver?”

His face darkens. “What exactly are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything.” I smile at Victoria, who is now looking extremely uncomfortable. “I’m simply observing that you brought your… friend… and I brought mine.”

“Victoria is my assistant, and whatever you think is happening, it’s not —” Oliver breaks off and takes a deep breath. There’s a slight hint of color in his cheeks, but otherwise he looks every inch the calm, controlled billionaire. His blue eyes are pure ice as he looks at me and asks softly, “Who exactly is he to you?”

I tilt my head, considering him with an expression of exaggerated innocence. “Well, Oliver,” I say, looking my husband straight in the eyes, “when it became obvious that you had opened up the marriage on your end, I decided, why should you have all the fun?”

Chapter 1

Genny

There’s a moment in movies where the camera zooms in on the protagonist’s face right as everything in their life is imploding, and there’s this voiceover that usually goes something like, “I suppose you’re wondering how I got here?”

All I can hear as I stand in the ballroom of the Grand Harbor Hotel; facing down my unfaithful husband and his parents for the amusement of the Boston social elite, is that voice.

How did I get here?

Not here here obviously. I know how I got to this literal spot: walked in on shaky legs with Evan by my side, ignored the scrutiny of everyone in attendance, strolled up to my husband like I didn’t have a care in the world and casually set my marriage on fire.

No, I mean here. Like, the long con of my life that led me from living on ramen and spoonfuls of peanut butter in the tiny apartment I shared with my roommate Kylie to the several thousand dollars a plate Sinclair Foundation Ball, from sensible server shoes to heels that cost more than my first car, from “Genny” to “Genevieve Sinclair, wife of the Oliver Sinclair.” How did I wind up here?

Well, to understand, we have to go back a few years.