It’s our second month of marriage, an arrangement neither of us asked for. Of course, we don’t love each other, but after these two months, I can't deny that I’ve started to develop an interest in you—not that I’d ever admit it.

Earlier today, I ran into Mrs. Hidegar in the hotel lobby. She’s the chairwoman of the charity you joined three weeks ago. You’d complained about having no friends, and I suggested you get involved. But she mentioned that you hadn’t shown up after the first meeting. That didn’t make sense, because my men have been reporting that you go to charity every single day.

So where were you really going?

I went home, furious, thinking you’d lied to me—assuming the worst, that you were cheating. The moment I stepped through the door, my anger boiled over.

“Where were you yesterday?” I demanded, my voice laced with rage. You were supposed to be with Mrs. Hidegar's charity yesterday.

Little did I know, you were actually going to charity. Just not the one Mrs. Hidegar oversees. Her charity is filled with wealthy wives concerned more with their public image than helping others. You’d found a place where your time and efforts were truly needed.