Chapter 2

"Why on earth would I make her soup?" I scoffed, furiously tapping my screen.

"If she wants soup, order takeout."

"Takeout isn't healthy. Brooke is like family to me. She's sick and miserable. Is making a pot of soup for her really too much to ask from my future wife?"

"Caleb, as far as I know, your parents only had one child. When did you magically get a sister?"

"Chloe, I promised her mom I'd look after her. Just treat it like helping a relative. I'll wait for you at the hospital."

The aggressive clacking of my keys caught Asher’s attention.

"What happened now?"

"He wants me to make homemade soup and deliver it to his assistant."

"Your fiancé is completely out of line. Who dotes on an assistant like that?"

"Her mom is close friends with his mom. They have family ties, so keeping an eye on her isn't totally absurd."

Even as I defended him out loud, my stomach twisted with unease.

On my way home, I bought fresh ingredients and simmered the broth from scratch. By the time I reached the hospital, it was well past midnight.

I pushed the room door open, holding the hot thermos with fingers that were red and throbbing.

"The soup is ready. I even added restorative herbs to help with your cough..."

Brooke suddenly broke into an exaggerated, dainty cough, cutting me off. "Caleb, my throat hurts so much..."

She pulled the blanket tighter and leaned closer to Caleb.

Caleb checked his watch, frowning deeply. "What took you so long? Brooke stayed awake waiting for this soup all night."

"I went home straight after work to cook it! I've been running around for hours—"

"Wait... is there sugar in this? Caleb, you know I quit sugar..." Brooke whined.

Hearing that, Caleb set the bowl down with a sharp clatter.

"Can't you get a single simple thing right? Didn't you know she doesn't eat sugar?"

I remembered our last company retreat. She had wolfed down desserts like there was no tomorrow.

Looking down at my burned fingers, and then up at Caleb’s arrogant, demanding face, I finally snapped.

"Drop the act! I'm done catering to you!"

Caleb’s scowl darkened with annoyance.

"What is your problem? Brooke is sick! Can't you show a little compassion?"

Brooke clutched Caleb’s sleeve with a tearful, guilty look.

"Did I make Chloe mad? Caleb, it's all my fault. I shouldn't have made her go through all this trouble..."

Caleb raised his voice at me. "She's sick! Why are you picking a fight with a sick girl?"

I grabbed my bag and yanked the door open without looking back.

"Then stay and take great care of her. Looks like she needs you an awful lot."

As I stepped out, Brooke’s soft voice floated through the cracked door: "Caleb, did Chloe get the wrong idea? You should go after her..."

Caleb slumped onto the chair, irritated.

"Let her be. Her temper is getting out of hand. She turns every little thing into a massive scene."

I was so disgusted that I checked into a hotel for an entire week.

During that time, Caleb bombarded me with missed calls, apologies, and expensive gifts, swearing he hadn't meant what he said that night.

I ignored every single one. He had crossed a major line this time. If I forgave him too easily, who knew what worse crap he’d pull after we got married?

Eventually, I stopped by our apartment to pick up a change of clothes.

That was when I noticed it. My exclusive $700,000 art toy was smeared with dried, milky stains, reeking of raw intimacy.