Part 1The Unchosen

We were on a reality show when my husband and his brother both fell into the lake.

My wife, Cassandra, a strong swimmer, didn’t hesitate. She dove in and saved her childhood friend, my brother-in-law, Leo. I watched as she, frantic and tender, had her security detail lift him from the water, wrapping him in blankets and whisking him away without a single backward glance.

I was left behind, sinking. The production crew pulled me out just as my lungs gave up.

The next day, when I placed the divorce papers on her desk, Cassandra’s face hardened.

“Leo can’t swim, River. That’s why I went for him first. Are you seriously going to be jealous about this?”

I looked her straight in the eye, my own heart a placid, dead sea. “Yes. Sign them.”

* * *

We signed the papers with a quiet efficiency that felt more like a business deal than the end of a marriage. Cassandra’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows were knitted together, a look that once would have sent a pang through my chest, but now stirred nothing.

She slipped the documents into an exquisite, limited-edition Hermès bag. “I’ll give you a ride.”

I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

A flicker of irritation crossed her face. “River, you don’t have to be like this. We were married for three years. A divorce doesn’t mean we become strangers.”

I was genuinely shocked for a second. I couldn’t believe those words were coming from her. Now that Leo was back—her golden boy, the one that got away—I thought she’d be thrilled that I was so gracefully stepping aside.

“For me, Mrs. Sterling, a divorce is exactly that. It means we’re done. We’re not family. We can’t be friends.”

“You…”

“And since we have no children, no real ties, there’s no reason to stay in touch.”

Stung, she turned on her heel and walked away. I watched her go, a long, weary sigh escaping my lips.

But then I thought of the balance in my bank account, and the sadness evaporated.

Though I was technically a Harrison, the eldest son, I’d never seen a dime of the family fortune. It was the divorce that finally made me a wealthy man. The Sterling family would never have agreed to a 50/50 split, so when my lawyer drafted the agreement, I asked for a clean twenty million.

Cassandra agreed without a fight. She also signed over two sprawling properties in New York and L.A., three other houses across the country, and six commercial condos in prime downtown locations.

It was enough to live on for the rest of my life, comfortably.

Staring at the cold, hard numbers on my banking app, I started to laugh.

It was real. I could finally start living for myself.

The day after the divorce was final, I moved into a sleek downtown loft that was already in my name. The feeling of ownership, of having something that was truly mine, gave me a sense of security I’d never known. I had braced myself for an avalanche of grief. I thought leaving Cassandra would destroy me. For three years, despite everything, I had loved her.

But that night, I had the best sleep of my life. A profound, long-overdue relaxation settled over me, and I didn’t wake up until noon the next day.