Chapter 1
The hum of the airplane engines faded as we touched down at JFK. I clutched my acceptance letter from Parsons School of Design in one hand, my father's dog tags in the other. The cool metal pressed against my palm, grounding me after the long flight from Switzerland. Three years away from home. Three years of healing. And now, finally, I was back.
My heart raced as I pulled out my phone, switching it off airplane mode. The screen lit up with the photo of Marcus and me at Central Park, his arm around my waist, both of us laughing at some forgotten joke. I traced his face with my fingertip before typing a quick message.
*Just landed! Can't wait to see you. I have the biggest surprise. xo*
I waited for the little dots to appear, for his response, but nothing came. The message showed as delivered but unread. Probably in a meeting, I thought, sliding the phone back into my pocket. The Sterling Corporation never slept, and neither did its CEO-in-waiting.
The customs line moved slowly. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, anxiety and excitement battling in my stomach. Three years of treatments, of therapy, of rebuilding myself piece by piece. Three years of Marcus's weekly calls, his letters, his promises that when I was better, we would start our life together. And now I was better—better than I'd been in years. The doctors had cleared me months ago, but I'd stayed to finish my art therapy program, to make sure I was truly ready.
In the taxi heading toward Manhattan, I rehearsed what I would say. How I would tell him about Paris, about Parsons, about my plans for us. Maybe we could get a little apartment in Le Marais. He could commute back to New York when needed. It would be romantic—impractical, maybe, but perfect.
"First time in New York?" the driver asked, catching my wide-eyed gaze at the skyline through the rearview mirror.
"No," I smiled, my fingers finding my father's dog tags again. "Coming home."
The taxi pulled up to Marcus's building, a gleaming tower of glass and steel reaching toward the clouds. I paid the driver and stepped out, my small suitcase trailing behind me. A moving van with "Whitmore Interiors" emblazoned on the side was parked nearby, workers carrying sleek furniture through the service entrance.
I smoothed down my rumpled sweater and ran a hand through my tangled hair, suddenly conscious of my appearance after the long flight. Marcus had always said he loved me most when I was a mess—hair wild, paint on my clothes, completely absorbed in my art. But standing before his building, I wished I'd taken the time to freshen up.
The doorman eyed me as I approached, his gaze lingering on my disheveled state.
"I'm here to see Marcus Sterling," I said, trying to project confidence.
"Does Mr. Sterling expect you?" he asked, his tone polite but firm.
"No, I wanted to surprise him." I smiled, anticipation bubbling up again. "I'm his fiancée, Lily Chen."
The doorman's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "I'll need to call up, Miss Chen. Mr. Sterling is very particular about unexpected visitors."
He picked up the phone, pressing a button. I heard the ring through the speaker.
"Yes, there's a Miss Chen here to see Mr. Sterling. She claims to be his fiancée." A pause. "Yes, I'll let her know."
He hung up, his face professionally blank. "I'm sorry, Miss. They say there's no one by that name expected today. Perhaps you could make an appointment?"
My stomach dropped. "There must be some mistake. Could you try again?"
"I'm sorry, Miss. Those are my instructions."
I stepped back, confusion washing over me. Marcus's assistant must have intercepted the call. Or maybe he was genuinely busy with whatever renovation Whitmore Interiors was handling.
"I'll just... wait," I said, moving to sit on one of the plush benches in the lobby.
The doorman looked like he might object, but his attention was diverted by a delivery. I seized the opportunity to slip behind a large potted palm when he turned away.
Minutes stretched into an hour. I was about to give up when the elevator dinged, and Marcus's voice floated across the marble lobby. He was on speakerphone, his tone light and carefree.
"Victoria, darling, we can discuss baby names when I get home. Yes, I know your mother likes Alexander, but let's not get ahead of ourselves."
He laughed, a sound I knew intimately, had dreamed about for three years. But it wasn't directed at me.
"The girl in Switzerland? Don't worry about her. That situation is being handled. I've made sure she'll stay there until we're ready to deal with it. Focus on the IPO for now."
The world tilted beneath my feet. The girl in Switzerland. Not Lily. Not his fiancée. Just a situation to be handled.
As Marcus strode toward the revolving door, I pressed myself further behind the plant, my breath caught in my throat. The sunlight caught on his left hand, illuminating a gold wedding band that hadn't been there in any of our video calls.
He had married someone else. While I was healing, while I was planning our future, Marcus Sterling had replaced me.