Samuel
I should have known secrets never stayed buried.
It wasn’t Stephen who cornered me first.
It was my wife.
If you asked the tabloids, Vivian Case and I were one of New York’s greatest success stories. Forty years of marriage. Charity galas. Museum boards. Holiday photographs in designer clothing with smiles polished brighter than the diamonds around her neck.
People loved the illusion.
The truth was far less glamorous.
We hadn’t shared a bedroom in nearly fifteen years.
We attended public events together because it protected the Case name, then returned to separate homes afterward. She preferred the townhouse on the Upper East Side. I preferred my loft downtown where I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t.
Divorce had never been an option.
Not because we loved each
