Even though he treated me with growing indifference, I still desperately believed that I could save our crumbling marriage if I just tried hard enough.

That was the only reason I had booked a week on a private island in the Caribbean for our fifth anniversary, securing a villa complete with a personal chef, a full staff, and an exclusive beach for the price of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

I did it because Caleb had spent months telling me that I was cold and that my company had turned me into a woman who no longer had a home in her heart.

He told me he needed a wife who was more present and traditional, and I was foolish enough to want to believe that he actually missed me.

The night before the trip, I handed him the itinerary inside a heavy black envelope embossed with gold lettering.

“This trip is just for the two of us, Caleb, with no meetings, no business calls, and absolutely no outside distractions,” I told him softly.

Caleb barely looked up from his smartphone as he took the envelope with a dismissive grunt.

“I certainly hope the internet connection is decent out there, because I cannot just disappear from my responsibilities just because you feel guilty about your own schedule,” he replied.

It hurt to hear those words, but I swallowed my pride and forced a smile because I wanted this week to be a fresh start for us.

The next morning, I arrived at the private dock thirty minutes late because of a sudden emergency at the office that required my immediate authorization.

I expected to find him waiting alone and perhaps a bit annoyed, but instead, I saw a crowd of people gathered near the seaplane.

Caleb was standing there with his mother, Margot, his father, Arthur, and Tessa, his ex-girlfriend from college, who was dressed in a flowy white linen dress as if she were the guest of honor.

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