Chapter 1

Ten years pass, a full decade since I have walked away from Harborland and from Samuel Grant.

I am sitting in the airport's VIP lounge when my eyes land on an interview playing on the TV.

The woman on the screen is immaculate, dripping in couture and diamonds, a perfect smile gracing her lips.

"A gold-plated cage?" she scoffs lightly. "Hardly. I don't see it as an insult in the slightest. My husband gives me two million dollars. We have staff at home and a chauffeur-driven Mercedes for whenever I go out."

"Besides," she adds, leaning in conspiratorially, "he moved heaven and earth to be with me back in the day. So yes, he adores me."

The host is practically glowing with envy, exclaiming, "Wow, Mr. Grant truly spoils you rotten! Mrs. Grant, you are one lucky woman!"

A boarding call crackles over the PA, pulling me from my trance. I tear my gaze from the screen and start toward my gate.

I must have drifted off on the plane, because when I open my eyes, the cityscape of Harborland is already crystallizing through the clouds below. A bitter thought surfaces.

Maybe being a bird in a gilded cage isn't so bad after all.

After all, if she is his canary in a gilded cage, I have just been the one in a cage of rust, trying to get by on a measly five hundred bucks a week.

*****

Samuel Grant was my father's adopted son and my ex-husband.

I still remember the night my father first took him under his wing. Samuel, desperate to impress, had knocked back shot after shot of every liquor on the table until he was literally coughing up blood, all just to beg my father for a chance.

My father, a soft touch, took him in as his own and gave him the seed money to start a business.

Two years later, the moment the company was stable, he pulled the same stunt again. He got down on his knees before my father for three days and nights, putting on a show of begging for my hand.

What he truly wanted, however, was the vast inheritance he knew I was set to receive.

He swore to the heavens, "A good wife will help me reach for the sky, and I will repay her with a mountain of gold."

I was twenty back then, hopelessly naive, and his grand gesture brought tears to my eyes. I gave him everything without a second thought.

"Samuel," I'd whispered, "I don't want your gold. I just want a lifetime with you."

He had this proud streak. He took my family's money but refused any of the connections my father offered to smooth his path.

And I, hopelessly in love, ignored my parents' desperate warnings and followed him from the gilded cage of my upbringing to the gritty streets of Harborland. My father, furious, cut off all my credit cards.

There was a cramped, filthy shared apartment we shared, the meals we bought with pennies, and the threadbare clothes on our backs.

My hands, once soft and nimble from years of playing the piano, became rough and calloused from endless odd jobs.

I turned down an invitation to join an international music conservatory, cut ties with my entire social circle, and gave up everything.

For Samuel, I gave up my entire world.

I never told anyone how hard it was. It was the path I had chosen.

The twenty-year-old me had been willing to sacrifice it all for love. But now, at thirty, all I'm left with is a heart full of regret.

We struggled like that for a whole year. Finally, his company started to gain traction, and by the end of the year, he landed a huge contract.

For the first time, the permanent frown on Samuel's face relaxed.

We huddled together on a street corner in the freezing cold, our hands wrapped around a single cup of steaming coffee we shared between us. All the while, my eyes were fixed on his exhausted face.

I swallowed all my own bitterness and resentment. Maybe this was just what life was.

Then the call came. It was my cousin, with news from my family. My grandfather, the one who had always adored me, wasn't going to make it through the year.

The soapy plate I was washing slipped from my hands and shattered on the floor. I didn't even hear my manager at the restaurant yelling that I was fired. I just ran, hailing a cab and racing to the airport.

I had to go back.

My grandfather was the one who loved me most in the world.

The irony of it all was pathetic.

When I got to the airport, I realized I didn't even have enough cash to pay the taxi driver, let alone buy a plane ticket.

I was trapped in a desperate loop, calling Samuel over and over again until I lost count.

He didn't answer.

The furious driver ended up dragging me to the police station, a stream of vulgar insults spewing from his mouth.

I trembled, my hand gripping my phone so tightly that my knuckles were white.

Where was Samuel?

He didn't show up until the dead of night. He paid the fare and bailed me out. As we stood outside the station, the frigid wind whipped around us, carrying the cloying, cheap scent of another woman's perfume from his clothes.

I was too exhausted to even be angry. My voice was just a broken plea.

"Samuel, my grandpa is dying. I have to get home. Please, I just need money for a ticket."

I would never forget the way he looked at me that day. He frowned, and his gaze was just glacial.

"Charlotte," he said, "five hundred dollars a week. That was our agreement."

He spoke to me like I was a child throwing a tantrum.

"What if I go anyway?" I screamed, my eyes burning with unshed tears.

He pulled me into a rough, impatient embrace, letting out a low hiss in my ear.

"Charlotte, don't be dramatic. The company is just starting out. We need every penny.

"Even if you go, it's not going to bring him back from the dead. There's no point in doing something so meaningless."

I went completely still in his arms.

How could the man I gave up everything for say something so cruel?

All I could smell was her perfume, clinging to him, choking me.

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

The wind was biting, but it wasn't my body that felt the chill. It was my heart, frozen solid.

That was our third year of marriage.

Samuel dragged me home. Later, I found the receipt tucked in the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

He bought an eight-thousand-dollar handbag from a luxury boutique in Langham Place.

The date on it was the same day I was hauled into that police station.

I realized then that a man's heart can change in an instant.

He wasn't even going to wait until he could give me that "mountain of gold" he promised.

And so, my grandfather's life ended that winter.

I never got to say goodbye.