Chapter 1

When my boyfriend Ethan died in a car crash, his last words were a plea for me to take care of his younger brother, Noah.

I put him through college and helped him build his startup from the ground up. But after a drunken night at a business dinner, we ended up crossing the line.

I spent days agonizing over what we were to each other now. Then, I saw it: a photo of me and a diamond engagement ring sitting on his office desk.

My heart pounded. I pushed open the door to his private lounge, ready to finally define our relationship.

The moment the door swung open, a white camisole landed right at my feet.

I froze. Noah was hastily covering his female assistant's body with a blanket.

"Claire, don't you know how to knock?" he snapped.

The blood drained from my face. My limbs went stiff as I tried to back out of the room.

But the assistant called out to me, her voice trembling with fake timidity. "Claire? Could you hand me my top?"

The raw hostility in her eyes didn't escape me.

I didn't say a word. I just tossed the camisole onto the bed, turned on my heel, and fled the office.

The moment I stepped out of the building, my phone rang. It was Noah.

"Claire, do me a favor. Stop barging into my office like that."

I forced a smile and agreed. From that day on, I never stepped foot into his world again.

Back in my apartment on the Upper West Side, I pulled the curtains shut.

The living room plunged into pitch black. The darkness finally allowed my tense muscles to relax.

Curling up on the sofa, I dialed my art agent, Marcus.

"Marcus? That painting residency in Paris you mentioned? I'll take it."

Marcus chuckled through the receiver. "Finally cutting the cord? I thought he still needed you to hold his hand."

I pulled the throw blanket tighter around my shoulders.

"He's a grown man now. He doesn't need me anymore."

As the words left my mouth, my fingers subconsciously dug into the fabric.

When Ethan passed away, his biggest worry was leaving behind his only brother.

I had no family. Noah had just lost his.

For five years, I made him the center of my universe. It was the only way I could keep myself breathing.

The morning after that night, I woke up before Noah. I stared at his sleeping face for a long time before scrambling out of bed in a panic.

That was the first time it truly hit me—he was a grown man.

The sudden shift in our dynamic terrified me. I didn't know how to face him, so I left New York for a few days to clear my head.

But Noah just kept calling me "Claire" like always, casually asking where I went.

It took me a while to realize: he hadn't figured things out.

He had simply forgotten.

He already had someone he liked. And as the woman who was just his dead brother's girlfriend, I had no right to intrude on his life anymore.

After hanging up with Marcus, I called Noah.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Claire. What's up?"

I wanted to clear the air about that night. I wanted to put a final period on the last five years of our tangled lives.

But before I could even open my mouth, his assistant, Mia, spoke up in the background.

"Noah, why is Claire calling you this late? Doesn't she have any boundaries? God, don't tell me she has a crush on you."

Her hostility was palpable.

Noah's tone instantly cooled. "Claire, don't call me this late. People might get the wrong idea. I gotta go."

The line went dead.

I pulled the phone away and checked the time. It wasn't even eight in the evening.

There was a time when I could call him at three in the morning, and he would pick up instantly, frantic to know if I was okay.

Now, my calls were just a nuisance.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. I wrapped the blanket even tighter around myself.

Maybe I was just too exhausted. The deafening thunder, relentless downpour, and howling wind couldn't even wake me from my sleep.

Not until the window shattered, and rough hands yanked me from my sleep into a damp, warm chest.

Chapter 1

When my boyfriend Ethan died in a car crash, his last words were a plea for me to take care of his younger brother, Noah.

I put him through college and helped him build his startup from the ground up. But after a drunken night at a business dinner, we ended up crossing the line.

I spent days agonizing over what we were to each other now. Then, I saw it: a photo of me and a diamond engagement ring sitting on his office desk.

My heart pounded. I pushed open the door to his private lounge, ready to finally define our relationship.

The moment the door swung open, a white camisole landed right at my feet.

I froze. Noah was hastily covering his female assistant's body with a blanket.

"Claire, don't you know how to knock?" he snapped.

The blood drained from my face. My limbs went stiff as I tried to back out of the room.

But the assistant called out to me, her voice trembling with fake timidity. "Claire? Could you hand me my top?"

The raw hostility in her eyes didn't escape me.

I didn't say a word. I just tossed the camisole onto the bed, turned on my heel, and fled the office.

The moment I stepped out of the building, my phone rang. It was Noah.

"Claire, do me a favor. Stop barging into my office like that."

I forced a smile and agreed. From that day on, I never stepped foot into his world again.

Back in my apartment on the Upper West Side, I pulled the curtains shut.

The living room plunged into pitch black. The darkness finally allowed my tense muscles to relax.

Curling up on the sofa, I dialed my art agent, Marcus.

"Marcus? That painting residency in Paris you mentioned? I'll take it."

Marcus chuckled through the receiver. "Finally cutting the cord? I thought he still needed you to hold his hand."

I pulled the throw blanket tighter around my shoulders.

"He's a grown man now. He doesn't need me anymore."

As the words left my mouth, my fingers subconsciously dug into the fabric.

When Ethan passed away, his biggest worry was leaving behind his only brother.

I had no family. Noah had just lost his.

For five years, I made him the center of my universe. It was the only way I could keep myself breathing.

The morning after that night, I woke up before Noah. I stared at his sleeping face for a long time before scrambling out of bed in a panic.

That was the first time it truly hit me—he was a grown man.

The sudden shift in our dynamic terrified me. I didn't know how to face him, so I left New York for a few days to clear my head.

But Noah just kept calling me "Claire" like always, casually asking where I went.

It took me a while to realize: he hadn't figured things out.

He had simply forgotten.

He already had someone he liked. And as the woman who was just his dead brother's girlfriend, I had no right to intrude on his life anymore.

After hanging up with Marcus, I called Noah.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Claire. What's up?"

I wanted to clear the air about that night. I wanted to put a final period on the last five years of our tangled lives.

But before I could even open my mouth, his assistant, Mia, spoke up in the background.

"Noah, why is Claire calling you this late? Doesn't she have any boundaries? God, don't tell me she has a crush on you."

Her hostility was palpable.

Noah's tone instantly cooled. "Claire, don't call me this late. People might get the wrong idea. I gotta go."

The line went dead.

I pulled the phone away and checked the time. It wasn't even eight in the evening.

There was a time when I could call him at three in the morning, and he would pick up instantly, frantic to know if I was okay.

Now, my calls were just a nuisance.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. I wrapped the blanket even tighter around myself.

Maybe I was just too exhausted. The deafening thunder, relentless downpour, and howling wind couldn't even wake me from my sleep.

Not until the window shattered, and rough hands yanked me from my sleep into a damp, warm chest.