Chapter 4

Six hours later, I walked into the grand ballroom of the Hartwell Capital Annual Investment Dinner.

It was one of the most exclusive financial events of the season.

Tonight was also the night Connor had been waiting months for.

Hartwell Capital was considering a multimillion-dollar investment in his company, and Connor had spent weeks trying to get five minutes with anyone from its inner circle.

I knew exactly how badly he needed tonight to go well.

I handed my invitation to the attendant and walked inside.

I wore a midnight-blue silk gown that cost more than Connor’s first car, my hair pinned back, every trace of the invisible, accommodating corporate wife completely stripped away.

I was barely inside the doors when a familiar voice cut through the ambient chatter.

“Natalie?”

I turned.

Brooke was standing beside Connor near the champagne tower, her eyes widening in absolute disbelief as she scanned my dress, my jewelry, and the VIP invitation clutched in my hand.

Connor followed her gaze, his expression twisting into instant hostility.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, striding over with a dark scowl. “Did you follow us?”

“I’m attending,” I answered smoothly.

Connor let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “This is a private investor event. How did you even get an invitation?”

Brooke stepped between us with that same soft, pitying smile she had worn in my house.

“Connor, don't embarrass her,” she murmured.

Then she turned to me.

“Natalie, this isn't like the company anniversary party. Security is checking every invitation tonight.”

Her eyes dropped deliberately to the card in my hand.

“If someone gave you a spare invitation out of pity, that's fine. But these people are serious investors. You really don't want to make a scene here.”

Connor's jaw tightened.

“She doesn't understand this side of the business,” he said, as though I weren't standing right in front of him.

Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice.

“Whatever desperate little stunt you're pulling, stop.”

His gaze swept over my dress, then my jewelry.

“And don't tell me you spent half your settlement trying to look like you belong here.”

Brooke covered a smile.

Connor's expression turned colder.

“Leave now. I'll pretend this never happened.”

He paused.

“Don't humiliate yourself trying to prove you still belong in my world.”

A quiet, cold smile touched my lips.

His world.

That was almost adorable.

Before I could answer, a senior managing director from Hartwell Capital—a man Connor had spent three weeks trying to book a five-minute meeting with—was briskly walking across the marble floor toward us.

Connor’s posture instantly shifted.

He smoothed his lapels, putting on his most obsequious corporate smile, assuming the director was coming over to greet him.

“Mr. Vance,” Connor began, extending a hand. “I’m Connor Sterling, CEO of—”

Mr. Vance didn't even look at Connor's outstretched hand.

He walked right past him, his eyes locking onto mine with deep, immediate respect.

“Ms. Hartwell,” Mr. Vance said, his voice carrying clearly across the quietening circle of onlookers. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. The chairman is waiting for you upstairs.”

Connor’s hand froze in mid-air.

“Ms... Hartwell?”

Connor's smile vanished.

He looked at Mr. Vance.

Then at me.

Then back at him.

“No,” he said sharply. “Her name is Natalie Sterling.”

Mr. Vance finally looked at him.

For the first time that evening, there was something almost pitying in his expression.

Connor's face slowly changed.

“What aren't you telling me?”

Brooke’s face lost every ounce of color, her mouth dropping open as she gripped Connor’s arm for balance.

Before I could answer, the heavy double doors at the entrance swung open.

The noise in the ballroom faded almost instantly.

A silver-haired man stepped inside, surrounded by Hartwell Capital executives and security.

Connor went rigid beside me.

I knew exactly why.

He had spent months trying to get a meeting with that man.

The chairman of Hartwell Capital.

One of the most powerful investors in the country.

Connor immediately straightened his jacket.

Brooke grabbed his arm.

“Connor,” she whispered. “That's—”

“I know.”

The chairman stopped in front of me.

Connor immediately stepped forward, ready to introduce himself.

But the man walked straight past him and opened his arms to me.

“There you are,” he said.

His voice softened.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.”