Chapter 2

I went back to my run-down studio, the one that cost me three hundred dollars a month, and propped the ten-million-dollar fishing rod against the wall. It looked ridiculously out of place against the bare, peeling walls.

I sank into the only chair that didn't wobble, poured myself a glass of tap water, and let ten years of memories crash over me.

My mind pulled me back to my wedding night with Charles.

There were no guests or well-wishers. There was only a cold, neatly typed agreement.

He said, "Julia, marrying you was my grandfather's idea. I couldn't go against him. But the woman I love is Sophie.

"For the next ten years, I'll put up two assets every year. You pick one, and Sophie picks the other. Consider it compensation. After ten years, we're getting divorce."

I was naive enough to love him back then. I cried and begged him, "Why? Can't we at least try to make this work?"

He looked at me without a trace of warmth. "You're not worth the effort."

The first choice came quickly. Option one was a 3,200-square-foot luxury penthouse in the heart of downtown, worth ten million dollars.

Option two was an old estate on a few acres outside the city, supposedly haunted and cursed. Nobody would take it even for free.

Sophie didn't hesitate. She wrapped herself around Charles' arm and cooed, "Charlie, I want the penthouse. We could live there together. Wouldn't that be perfect?"

Charles smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Of course, babe."

Then he tossed the deed to the estate at me like it was trash. "That dump is yours."

I gripped the thin paper in my hands, and my nails dug into my palms.

I moved out of the Stanton Estate and into the run-down estate Charles had left me. The yard was overgrown with weeds, and half the paint on the front porch had peeled away.

Everyone called me a fool.

My best friend practically screamed at me over the phone. "Julia, have you lost your mind? If you'd fought for it even a little, Charles might've let you keep the estate. That place is worth ten million dollars!"

Charles' mother, Natasha, called too, and every word dripped with condescension. "Julia, you need to be the bigger person here. Charles loves Sophie, and you should be happy for them. It's one house. Getting so worked up over it just makes you look petty."

I hung up and stared at the crumbling yard and the chipped wooden sign above the front door. I didn't cry.

I pulled out my phone and made a call. "Hi, Professor Grant. It's Julia. That project you mentioned last time, the one about the historic district revitalization and the urban corridor plan? I think it's time we talked."

On the other end of the line was Paul Grant, my college advisor and one of the country's most respected urban planners.

No one knew that I had spent four years in college studying historic preservation and urban planning.

And no one knew that the "dump" Charles had tossed my way would soon become the most valuable piece of real estate in all of Metropolis City.

The following year, the choice was between a brand-new limited-edition red Ferrari and a collection of oil paintings by some obscure artist that supposedly had zero investment value.

Sophie drove off in that flashy red sports car, blowing exhaust in my face and shouting "Hillbilly!" out the window.

I quietly called a moving company and had every last one of those "worthless" paintings shipped back to my estate.

No one knew that the obscure artist, after a decade in obscurity, would become modern art's most sought-after name, hailed as "the next Van Gogh."

And so it went for ten years. Sophie took everything that looked glamorous, like the jewelry, the designer bags, the yacht, and the overseas villa.

I was stuck with the "garbage." Barren plots of land in the middle of nowhere. Debt from a company on the verge of bankruptcy. A pile of abandoned construction projects that no one wanted to touch.

My phone rang, cutting through the memories.

It was a number I didn't recognize.

I picked up, and a polished, professional voice came through the other end.

"Am I speaking with Ms. Julia Evans? Good afternoon. This is Nelson Warren from Integrity Law Firm.

"The title transfer for your estate has been fully processed. I also wanted to inform you that Metropolis City's Land Planning Bureau officially released its new urban development plan this morning, and your property, Serenity Manor, sits right in the heart of the designated zone.

"Congratulations, Ms. Evans.

"Based on current market valuations, Serenity Manor, including all structures on the land, is conservatively estimated to be worth over six hundred million dollars."

Nelson's voice was steady and assured, and every word he spoke settled over me like a promise carved in stone.

I thanked him calmly and hung up.

Six hundred million dollars. And this was only the beginning.