Chapter 4

The rooftop garden of James's Manhattan penthouse bloomed with white roses and twinkling lights. As I stood adjusting a display for our third charity art auction, I caught my reflection in the glass doors—a woman I barely recognized from a year ago. Gone was the hollow-cheeked ghost who'd once collapsed on her kitchen floor. In her place stood someone with clear eyes and steady hands, someone who belonged in this world of beauty and possibility.

"The Miyazaki piece should go next to the Alvarez sculpture," I called to my assistant, Kelly—my assistant, a concept that still felt surreal sometimes. "They're…