Chapter 4

I followed Meredith into the private elevator and watched her press the button for the top floor like she had done it a thousand times. The chill in my heart spread to my bones.

Bennett's private elevator was strictly off-limits. Only he and his chief secretary were supposed to use it. Members of the Sinclair family couldn't touch it.

Yet here was Meredith, moving through it with ease, and even the front desk staff bowed their heads to her.

The girl who "helps out" had more power in his company than I ever did.

The elevator doors slid open directly into Bennett's office suite.

The entire top floor was his domain. There were his office, a secretary's room, and a conference room. It was usually so quiet it felt like a tomb.

But the moment I stepped out, I heard Meredith's laughter and some pop music drifting from the CEO's office.

I stopped walking and glanced at the girl beside me.

Panic flashed across her face before she covered it with a smile. "Oh, silly me. I was waiting in his office earlier and forgot to turn off the music. Sorry, Vivian. I hope you don't mind."

She scurried ahead and pushed open the heavy door to the CEO's office.

I walked in after her.

The office layout was exactly what I remembered, cold, modern, all black leather and gray steel.

The huge windows looked out over the city skyline, and the sharp edges of the furniture made the room feel as distant as Bennett himself.

What was different was the woman living in it.

In the corner of the desk sat a delicate pink vase filled with fresh white roses, the petals still damp. Next to it was a half-eaten slice of peach cobbler in a box from that trendy little bakery downtown.

On the coffee table by the leather sofa sat a pink bunny mug, a bag of dried peach rings, and a stack of fashion magazines, things that screamed out of place in this serious, masculine room.

Draped over the back of his office chair was a white cashmere cardigan. It was hers.

My hands and feet went numb, as if the blood had stopped moving.

Bennett was dangerously allergic to white rose pollen. A single breath of it and he'd be sneezing uncontrollably. It could trigger his asthma and send him to the ER.

For the two years we were married, I never allowed a single white rose in our home.

And the peach cobbler. I was severely allergic to peaches. Bennett had known that for ten years.

He once sent out a company-wide memo at Sterling Holdings: No peach products were allowed on the premises. Anyone who brought peaches into this building would be fired immediately.

And yet, here was his office filled with white roses and the sticky-sweet scent of peaches.

I knew who this was for.

My eyes drifted over the desk and stopped at a silver fountain pen tucked beside his monitor.

I had saved my allowance for six months to have that pen custom-made for Bennett's eighteenth birthday.

His initials were engraved on the barrel, right next to a tiny "Vee", my signature. He told me he loved it. He said he would always keep it close.

Three months ago, he told me he had lost it. I told him it was okay, that I would find a way to replace it.

And there it sat, perfectly safe. There was a little pink bunny charm dangling from the cap. I was sure it was from Meredith.

But the thing that made my stomach drop was the faded bracelet on Meredith's wrist.

It was made of braided embroidery floss, pink, white, and that specific shade of turquoise I used to love. There was a tiny silver letter "V" bead tied in the middle.

I made it at summer camp when I was sixteen. It was silly and cheap, but I wore it every single day for years.

Ten years ago, when I pulled Bennett out of the water and tried to breathe life back into him, that bracelet must have snapped off my wrist and fallen into the sand.

I looked for it everywhere after I woke up, but I never found it.

And now, ten years later, there it was, tied around the arm of his so-called "savior."