Chapter 1

On the third night of my business trip out of state, I scrolled past a video of my wife locking lips with my best friend at a music festival.

Jack Wilson and I had been brothers for twenty years. The day I married Emily, he cried like a baby and swore he'd give up everything he had if it meant I'd be happy for the rest of my life.

But tonight, my best friend and my wife proved that promises don't mean a damn thing.

After a few minutes of silence, I called Jack.

"Hey, you end up catching that Bruce Springsteen show? Heard the production was insane."

He paused. Then, casual as ever: "Yeah, it looked good. Saw some clips online."

"Too bad you weren't there, though. Kinda boring going alone. When you getting back? We'll catch the next one together."

I said sure. Hung up. Caught the next red-eye straight to his apartment.

They took everything I gave them—my loyalty, my trust, my love. Now I'm going to take everything they have.

Chapter 1

The plane touched down at nine p.m. on the dot.

Perfect timing for a date.

I headed straight to Jack's place and rang the bell.

"Took you long enough."

Jack's lazy voice drifted from inside. The moment he opened the door and saw me, every drop of color drained from his face.

"L-Lane?"

"What the hell are you doing back?! Weren't you supposed to be out of town?"

He stared at me like he'd seen a ghost. I didn't say a word, just let my eyes trail down to the robe he was wearing.

A charcoal gray velvet number, the belt tied loose, the V-neck plunging damn near to his navel. And from the looks of it, nothing underneath.

I'd gone shopping with him last week. When he bought this thing, he'd grinned and told me, "A guy's gotta have some game, man. This robe is my secret weapon."

And now my secret weapon—the one I'd helped him pick out—was about to be used on my wife.

I tried to smile. My eyes stung instead.

Jack and I had been ride-or-die since we were kids.

Seven years old. Some older kids from the neighborhood swiped his baseball glove and shoved him into the mud. He was sitting on the curb, sobbing his little heart out. I grabbed a bat, chased those bastards off, and puffed out my chest: "I got your back, man. Always."

Fifteen. Different high schools. He was drowning in acne, self-esteem in the gutter, and the varsity jocks cornered him in the locker room, made him lick their cleats. He called me, voice shaking. I grabbed a mop, ran from the fourth floor of my school all the way to his, and charged into that locker room like a maniac. Almost got expelled. Didn't care. I told him nobody was ever gonna mess with him again.

Seventeen. Junior year. His folks were in the middle of a nasty divorce, fighting over every penny, neither one wanting the dead weight. They sent him two hundred bucks a month. That was it. He stretched it by eating one meal a day—a single sandwich. Went from a hundred and sixty pounds to a hundred and ten.

We weren't at the same school anymore. He called me one night, voice cracking: "Lane... I'm done. I can't do this."

I climbed out my dorm window, hitchhiked home, and begged my parents on my knees for two hours to take him in, pay his tuition, give him a shot.

Seven to twenty-seven. Twenty years of brotherhood.

He'd told me more times than I could count that meeting me was the best thing that ever happened to him. That if he had anything to give, he'd give it all to make sure I was okay.

And now he was wearing the robe I'd helped him pick out, in bed with my wife.

I almost laughed. Almost. Instead, I kept my voice steady, casual, like nothing was wrong.

"So. Got a date tonight?"

"Who is it? Do I know them? What's their name?"

My tone was light. Friendly. The way you'd ask a buddy about his weekend plans.

But his face went white as paper. His lips lost all color. He was shaking.

"Just... just someone from work. You don't know them."

Still lying.

My grip on my keys tightened until my knuckles went bone-white. I let my gaze drift over his panicked face, then down to his wrist. Smirked.

"That's a nice watch. Did your 'coworker' get it for you?"

Last month, I'd found the receipts on Emily's credit card statement. A pair of Cartier cufflinks—twelve hundred bucks, on my dresser. And a Patek Philippe rose gold watch. Twenty-eight thousand dollars.

On Jack's wrist.

His face went from white to gray. He jerked his left hand behind his back like I'd caught him stealing.

"Yeah. Coworker. Gift."

By this point, any normal guy would've cracked a joke. Asked if things were getting serious. When do I get to meet them?

But staring at him now, all I could feel was how absurd this whole thing was. The guy couldn't even lie straight, and somehow he'd been pulling one over on me for months.

"Right. Well, don't let me keep you."

"See you tomorrow."

I smiled like it was nothing, watched the relief flood his face, and walked away.

On the drive home, I called my father—the senior partner at the investment bank, the man who'd been quietly funding Jack's life and career for years.

"Dad. I need a favor."

I pulled over, fished the cinnamon rolls out of my bag—the ones from that bakery in Manhattan Jack loved—and tossed them straight into a dumpster. My voice came out cold and steady.

"Emily's job. Jack's apartment. Every cent they've bled out of me. Get me a lawyer and take it all back."

"Yeah. They're sleeping together. And I'm not about to get screwed twice."

Chapter 2

My father moved fast.

I'd barely made it home before the divorce attorney was on the phone, and three gigabytes of evidence hit my inbox. Photos. Hotel records. And a video account I'd never seen before.

Eighty-three clips. Every single one featured my wife.

I learned that their first kiss happened on my twenty-third birthday. I'd gone upstairs to grab the cake. They were in the living room, going at it like teenagers. The caption on the video Jack posted that day was one word: Thrill.

I learned that their first time was during that city-wide blackout. Jack's building was in a rough part of town, and I was worried about him. I drove through the storm, water up to my knees, soaking wet, to check on him.

His door was locked.

He was in California with Emily. Three days, two nights. Never told me.

I stood in the dark, knocking for thirty minutes like an idiot, terrified something had happened to him.

Meanwhile, he and Emily were in a hotel suite, having candlelit dinner and their first "real conversation."

And the most recent clip—uploaded ten minutes ago. Shot in Jack's apartment. He was still wearing that gray robe, smirking at the camera like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Almost got caught sneaking around. Good thing Emily knows how to make it up to me."

Not a shred of guilt. Not one.

I watched that clip twenty times in a row. And finally accepted the truth.

The kid who'd followed me around since I was seven, who'd sworn on his life he'd never betray me—he was gone.

My hands were shaking around the phone. I flashed back to my wedding day. The bouquet toss. Emily and I walked through the crowd together, and I handed the bouquet to Jack myself.

"Your turn, man. I want you to be happy too."

He broke down crying, right there. He grabbed me and yelled in my ear: "Lane—you better be happy forever, you hear me? FOREVER!"

And now that same guy had taken everything.

I sat on the couch. The tears came, quiet and hot.

My phone buzzed. Emily.

"Hey, you're back? Jack told me. Why didn't you say something?"

"Where are you? You want me to pick you up?"

I looked at the video still on my screen. Jack saying she didn't want him coming home tonight.

"I'm at the airport. Work stuff—just grabbing some files, heading back out. Pick me up Monday, eight a.m."

There was a pause. I could hear her exhale. And in the background—a man's laugh, low and familiar.

"Okay, babe. I'm still at the office, so I won't see you tonight. Text me when you land."

I hung up. The lawyer was watching me carefully.

"Mr. Sheffield... are you sure—"

I cut him off with a smile.

"Martin. Just tell me one thing. Does catching them in the act give me better leverage in court?"

Chapter 3

Martin nodded.

That was all I needed.

I pulled out my phone and started making calls.

First: my father. Emily's boss. Senior partner. He'd been set to promote her after Labor Day—VP of Marketing, a spot she'd been gunning for three years. Not anymore.

Second: Jack's parents. They'd gotten back together, living in New York again. Jack had spent years dreaming about proving himself to them, making them regret throwing him away. I wanted to see their faces when they found out what their son had done.

Then Emily's parents. Her cousins. Her whole damn family.

I called everyone I could think of.

Martin and I drove to Jack's building. I sat in the car for twenty minutes, waiting for them all to show up. And thinking.

About the first time Jack met Emily. He was in a navy suit, all attitude. She was in red, all sass. They both told me they couldn't stand each other. Begged me not to force them together.

And I believed them.

So I played middleman for years. Told Emily how Jack thought she was brilliant. Told Jack how Emily had picked out gifts for him—when really, they were from me.

I thought I was protecting my marriage and my friendship.

Now I realize how stupid I was.

"Mr. Sheffield. Everyone's here."

I stepped out of the car. Familiar faces, all of them. Every single person I'd called.

"Lane! What's going on? Did something happen?"

"Jack mentioned you were thinking about buying him a place. That's so generous, we can't even—"

I pulled my hand away from Jack's mother. Didn't say a word.

Emily's mom shoved her way in. "What are you talking about? Obviously this is about Emily's promotion! Lane, we are so proud of our girl—"

"Cousin! Are you surprising Emily? I brought my camera, man, I'm ready!"

Voices overlapping, all of them buzzing with excitement, clueless about what was coming.

Martin leaned in. "Mr. Sheffield, are you sure about this? Once we walk through that door, there's no going back."

I looked up at Jack's window. The light was on.

I remembered that summer. Walking down the streets of New York together, splitting a hot dog. He turned to me, face flushed from the sun, eyes bright.

"Hey Lane—we're gonna be brothers forever, right?"

I nodded hard. "Forever."

And Emily. She loved the ocean, so I rented out a whole stretch of beach in Miami. Fireworks going off overhead, I dropped to one knee, ring in hand.

"Emily, I love you. Always have, always will. Will you marry me?"

They'd both promised me forever. And at twenty-eight, they'd both broken it.

I took a breath, pulled myself together, and turned to face the crowd behind me. A smile on my face.

"Let's go upstairs."

"Got a surprise waiting."

Chapter 4

The elevator was packed. The air was thick with awkward excitement.

Jack's parents were still kissing my ass. "Lane, Jack never stops talking about you—says meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to him."

"He's right! You've been more of a brother to him than we ever could have been. We can never thank you enough."

Emily's parents elbowed their way in. "Lane, don't listen to them. Emily loves you more than anything. That VP promotion—she's been working so hard, and with your father's help, it's finally happening. We're just so grateful you married our daughter."

My father stood behind me, one hand resting on my shoulder. I could feel the weight of it, the heat of his barely contained fury.

He was holding it together. So was I.

But my stomach was on fire. A knot of acid climbing up my throat, burning all the way.

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open.

I walked to Jack's door. The same door I'd knocked on so many times over the years. I pulled out my phone and called him first.

"Hey Lane, what's up?" He sounded half-asleep. Guarded.

"Nothing big. Just wanted to check—are you home alone? I need to stop by. Got something to talk about."

The line went dead for a second. Then: "Yeah! Yeah, I'm alone. But I'm... I'm already in bed, man. Can it wait 'til tomorrow? I'm wrecked."

Still lying. I could hear the panic bleeding through his voice.

"Yeah. Get some rest."

I hung up. Called Emily next.

"Hey babe. You home alone? Need to swing by real quick."

Her voice was even tenser than Jack's. "Yes! Yes, I'm home alone. Just got done with work, actually."

A beat. She must have realized she sounded too eager, because she laughed and added: "What, you miss me already? If it weren't so late, I'd drive out to see you right now."

Right. She was in bed with another guy, but she'd drive out to see me.

I hung up without answering.

The noise behind me had died. Even Jack's parents, even Emily's—they'd heard enough to know something was off. The excitement had curdled into unease.

Jack's mom grabbed my arm. "Lane—honey—what's going on? Why did you bring us all here?"

I turned to face them. All those anxious, confused faces.

"Like I said. Surprise."

I pulled the spare key out of my pocket. The one Jack had pressed into my hand years ago. "For emergencies," he'd said.

Click.

The lock turned.