Chapter 1
After five years as Ethan's "shadow designer," he'd once again handed the lead designer spot to someone else.
He kept stringing me along. "Aria, hang in there, it's all for the bigger picture.
"Once we get the next round of funding, once we ring the bell at Skellethyr, you'll finally get to be the lead designer on the next project..."
At twenty-one, I was a total fool, willingly gambling my future on a promise from him.
I was twenty-eight now.
All the love and courage I once had got drained away by countless drafts and years of waiting.
I packed up my portfolio, let go of the Turia architecture dream I'd been chasing for years, and let him go, too.
This time, I was really done waiting for Ethan.
*****
The Global Horizon Architecture Awards ceremony was taking place in Chaarindol.
The party hall at the Cordor Hotel in midtown Turia was packed with industry elites in Armani custom suits and Prada heels.
Ethan stood under the spotlight, his deep, mesmerizing eyes sweeping across the room. Those same eyes had charmed countless girls. He announced that Sophie's proposal had won.
I gripped my champagne glass so tightly my knuckles turned white.
Everyone around me stood up, clapping.
This was my fifth year as a "shadow designer."
It was also the final year of that harsh "senior partner promotion clause" I'd signed with Moore Agency.
My boyfriend Ethan, as the jury chair, gave 23-year-old Sophie, heiress to a real estate empire, a staggering 92.8 points, sending her to the podium and crushing my hopes in front of everyone.
Sophie stepped down from the stage in a Valentino couture gown, her Jimmy Choo heels clicking as she walked straight toward me.
"Oh my gosh, Aria, I'm really sorry..." she said, her big, innocent blue eyes wide open, her acting skills were way better than her design work. "I honestly never thought I'd win."
Ethan walked over, one hand in his suit pocket, speaking in that typical elite tone.
"Since when do you have to apologize for being talented, Sophie?" he said.
He paused, his eyes sweeping over me with cold indifference, not even bothering to linger.
"Aria, let the rookie have her moment. It's vital for Moore Agency's funding. Your turn will come," Ethan said.
They stood shoulder to shoulder.
Sophie flashed a dazzling smile, while Ethan's arm rested lightly at her side, almost as if shielding her.
Their pose was just like a power couple on the cover of The Fair magazine.
I locked my gaze on Ethan's eyes, refusing to look away.
I searched his expression, desperate to find even a trace of guilt or the slightest flicker of avoidance.
But there was nothing there.
He really had forgotten.
He'd forgotten that winter five years ago, when he was desperate for startup cash, and my only family, my grandpa, got diagnosed with heart disease out in Seventaral.
The Tatheskornian medical bills piled up like a blizzard, drowning us.
I practically begged on my knees in front of the Moore Agency investors and signed a soul-crushing six-year contract.
If I managed to snag an international award within those six years, Moore Agency would hand me a 500,000 dollars bonus and a partner's seat.
If I failed, I'd have to walk away for good and pay back every penny Moore Agency had spent on "training me."
I traded that contract for two lifelines, Ethan's seed money and my grandpa's operation.
I had gone all-in on this gamble, and in the final year, he crushed it with a careless 0.1-point difference he made happen himself.
It was 92.8 versus 92.7.
Real life wasn't some heartwarming workplace movie.
Moore Agency wouldn't give me another six years, and my sixty-three-year-old grandpa didn't have time to wait anymore.
So Ethan, there was no next time.
I backed away, cameras trained on me.
I managed a polished, professional smile.
"Congrats, you two," I said.
I paused, then added in pure Tatheskornian sarcasm, "Such a flawless mentor-and-apprentice dynamic. Really moving."
Ethan felt a twinge of irritation.
That polished smile, dripping with sarcasm, so tacky.
He thought that I was way too young and impatient. In this city, ambition without patience was just wishful thinking.
After five years in the game, he didn't think I could hit the top.
If I wanted to win, I needed real skills. Not some so-called "connections", like cozying up to the jury chair.
This was the business world, not a charity.
If there was a next time, Ethan would make sure to award it to me properly.
With that in mind, he tried to smooth things over.
"Aria, the after-party's at the Rainbow Room. You should come," he said.
I replied softly, "No, thanks. I just want to go home and rest."
Ethan frowned.
Aria never skipped a single networking event. That was just how we survived in this industry.
But before he could dwell on it, Sophie had already slipped her arm through his.
I called for a taxi.
Slumped in the back seat, I watched Turia's glittering, cold city lights flicker past the window.
Before I even made it home, Twitter's trending topics had already blown up.
People wrote: [Ethan Moore and Sophie Terry are a power couple of the architecture world.]
Each hashtag was stamped with a bold red "Trending" tag.
Ethan's meticulously prepared, award-chasing project, a sustainable community overhaul, had been three years in the making.
He couldn't wait to announce Sophie as the lead designer, making it official right away.
If I'd actually been at the after-party, my face would've betrayed me so badly I wouldn't have been able to hold onto even a hint of composure.
The screen went black, and all I saw was my own tired, washed-out face staring back at me.
I still looked like hell.
Right after I swiped out of Twitter, Ethan's text popped up.