Chapter 1

I stood in the corner of the grand ballroom, feeling like a sparrow among peacocks. The charity gala at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel was filled with Seattle's elite, their laughter echoing beneath crystal chandeliers as waiters in crisp black uniforms weaved through the crowd with flutes of champagne. My simple navy dress—the nicest thing I owned—felt woefully inadequate next to the designer gowns that sparkled under the golden light.

Ryan hadn't spoken a word to me since we arrived. His jaw was set in that familiar tight line, the one that warned me not to speak unless spoken to. I'd learned to read his moods like weather patterns, to anticipate the storms before they broke. Tonight, his silence felt particularly heavy.

"Your dress is wrinkled at the hem," he muttered, not bothering to look at me as he sipped his scotch. "I told you to have it professionally pressed."

"I'm sorry," I said automatically, smoothing down the fabric with trembling fingers. "I thought the steamer would—"

"Just stop talking, Chloe." He cut me off, checking his Rolex. "You're embarrassing me."

I swallowed hard, tasting the familiar bitterness of shame. Five years with Ryan, and I still couldn't seem to get anything right. But I owed him everything—my education, my stability after losing my parents. The least I could do was try harder to be what he needed.

That's when the crowd parted like the Red Sea, and she appeared.

Victoria Ashford. I'd seen her only in photographs that Ryan kept hidden in his desk drawer, but I would have known her anywhere. She was ethereal in a silver gown that clung to her willowy frame, her dark hair swept into an elegant chignon. But there was something else—a fragility to her movements, a paleness to her complexion that made her seem like she might dissolve into mist at any moment.

I felt Ryan go completely still beside me. Then I watched as the cold mask he always wore cracked and fell away.

"Victoria," he breathed, and in that single word was a universe of longing I had never heard directed at me.

He moved toward her as if pulled by an invisible thread, forgetting my existence entirely. I watched him take her delicate hands in his, bending close as she whispered something that made his face transform with concern. He touched her cheek with such tenderness that my heart contracted painfully in my chest.

In five years, he had never once looked at me that way.

I followed at a distance as Ryan guided Victoria to a quiet corner, his arm protectively around her waist. I stood awkwardly nearby, invisible, as they spoke in urgent whispers. Victoria's eyes flicked to me once—assessing, dismissive—before returning to Ryan's face.

"She doesn't look well," I ventured when Ryan finally remembered I was there.

"She's not," he snapped, his voice sharp with worry that bordered on panic. "She's been ill since Paris. The doctors there couldn't help her."

Victoria leaned against him, a perfect picture of delicate suffering. "It comes and goes," she murmured, her voice musical even in distress. "The specialists say it's something to do with my energy fields being disrupted."

After the formal dinner, Ryan steered us toward the hotel's exclusive lounge where a select group had gathered for the after-party. Victoria led us to a man seated in the corner, surrounded by an admiring audience. He had an air of affected mysticism, with multiple rings adorning his long fingers and a scarf draped artfully around his neck.

"Julian," Victoria called softly. "These are the friends I told you about."

The man—Julian Vance, as he introduced himself—turned to us with eyes that seemed to look through rather than at me. He clasped my hand between both of his, and I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the room's temperature.

"I sense great disturbance around you," he said, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "Your aura is... troubling."

Ryan stiffened beside me. "What do you mean?"

Julian closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as if in deep concentration. "Negative energy. Very powerful. It's like a dark cloud." His eyes snapped open, fixing on me with sudden intensity. "It's affecting those around you. Particularly those who are already sensitive and vulnerable."

He looked meaningfully at Victoria, who swayed slightly on her feet. Ryan immediately put his arm around her, steadying her.

"You're saying Chloe is making Victoria sick?" Ryan demanded, his voice hardening.

"Not intentionally, of course," Julian said smoothly. "But energy doesn't require intent to cause harm."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "That's not possible. I would never—"

"There is a way," Julian interrupted, leaning forward. "A cleansing ritual that could purify the negative energy. But it requires great sacrifice from the one carrying the darkness."

The drive back to Ryan's condominium was silent and tense. I could feel his anger radiating from him in waves as he gripped the steering wheel of his Audi, knuckles white. When we arrived, he paced the sleek living room while I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Seattle skyline glittering beyond like a universe I could never touch.

"You'll do it," he finally said, turning to me with cold determination. "Julian says you need to climb Queen Anne Hill. All five hundred steps. On your knees."

My stomach dropped. "Ryan, my knees—you know about my old injury—"

"While carrying these." He cut me off, pulling two heavy river stones from a bag Julian had given him. "The stones absorb the negative energy. At the top, you'll receive a blessed crystal that will help Victoria heal."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You can't seriously believe—"

"What I believe," he said, stepping so close I could feel his breath on my face, "is that if you really loved me, you wouldn't hesitate to do this. Victoria is suffering because of you. If you care about me at all, you'll fix it."

I looked into his eyes—eyes I'd once thought held the world—and saw nothing but ice. And in that moment, a tiny voice inside me wondered for the first time if what I felt for Ryan was really love, or just the ghost of gratitude that had long since died.