Knox Wildstone never laid a hand on another woman, yet he still let someone else take my place.
For twenty years I was his wife, his arranger, and the partner behind a rock star billionaire's legend, until Samantha Saint—young, stunning, and the biggest pop star on earth—asked for a duet and began mirroring my clothes, my photographs, even the things he wore.
Fans pushed him toward her; I warned him; he heard only excuses, certain that wanting her was the only danger that mattered.
Then she stood beside him onstage in front of millions and sang the song built from our marriage, my harmony, and the language of his wedding vows, and he did not stop her.
I removed my ring before the applause finished and left.
The man who can fill stadiums wants his wife home, but I am done mending his songs, his mistakes, and a union he thought was safe simply because it was never an affair.
