Chapter 1 1

Two pink lines.

Nancy Vane sat on the cold tile floor of the master bathroom in the Upper East Side penthouse. She stared at the plastic stick in her hand until her vision blurred. The silence in the apartment was usually suffocating, a reminder of the empty space between her and her husband, but tonight, the silence felt heavy with promise.

She was pregnant.

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, choking her, turning instantly into a sob. She pressed a hand over her mouth. She had to be quiet. She had to compose herself.

Ten years. She had loved Julian Sterling for ten years, from the moment he first looked at her at a charity gala when she was just the charity case, the orphan girl Arthur Sterling had taken in. Three years of marriage. Three years of sleeping in the same bed but miles apart.

But this changed everything. A baby. A Sterling heir, yes, but more importantly, a piece of them both. Maybe this was the bridge. Maybe this was the reason Arthur had insisted on this union.

She stood up, her legs trembling. She looked in the mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and wet. She practiced a smile. Julian, I have a surprise. No. Julian, we're going to be parents.

The sound of the electronic lock beeping downstairs shattered the rehearsal.

He was early. Julian wasn't supposed to be back from the office for another hour. Their anniversary dinner reservation at Le Bernardin wasn't until eight.

Nancy shoved the pregnancy test deep into the pocket of her silk robe. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She took a deep breath, smoothed her hair, and walked out of the bedroom.

The living room was vast, dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the glittering Manhattan skyline. Julian stood by the glass. He was still in his suit, his broad shoulders tense, his back to her. He held a thick manila envelope in one hand.

"Julian?" Nancy called out softly. "You're home early."

She took a step forward, intending to hug him, to kiss his cheek, to start the night that would change their lives.

Julian sidestepped her. It wasn't a subtle move. It was a sharp, deliberate rejection.

Nancy froze. Her hand hovered in the air, touching nothing but cold AC air. The smile she had practiced died on her lips.

He turned around. His eyes were the color of the Atlantic in winter-grey, cold, and stormy. He looked at her not with affection, not even with the polite indifference he usually wore, but with the detachment of a man looking at a piece of furniture he intended to sell.

He tossed the envelope onto the marble coffee table. It landed with a heavy, final thud.

"Sign it," he said. His voice was flat.

Nancy looked at the envelope. The logo of his family's law firm was embossed in the corner.

"What is this?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"The three years are up, Nancy. The contract is fulfilled." Julian walked over to the bar cart and poured himself a scotch. He didn't offer her anything. "Fiona is back in New York."

The name hit her like a physical blow to the stomach. Fiona.

Nancy reached for the envelope. Her fingers shook so badly she could barely undo the clasp. She pulled out the document.

DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE AGREEMENT.

A high-pitched ringing started in her ears, drowning out the hum of the city. Divorce. On their anniversary.

"She landed this afternoon," Julian said, taking a sip of his drink. He didn't look at her. He looked at the window, at the reflection of the life he wanted, which apparently didn't include her. "I promised her I would be there when she returned. I intend to keep that promise."

Nancy's hand went instinctively to her pocket, clutching the hard plastic of the pregnancy test.

"Julian," she said, her voice cracking. "Today is... it's our anniversary."

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "It's the expiration date of a business deal, Nancy. Don't romanticize Arthur's manipulation."

He turned to face her, his expression hardening. "Fiona lost the use of her legs because of me. Because of that accident. I owe her my life. I won't waste another day of it playing house with you."

Nausea rolled over Nancy, sudden and violent. It was the morning sickness, triggered by the stress, but she swallowed it down. It burned her throat.

"Is it the money?" Julian asked, seeing her hesitation. He looked at her with pure exhaustion. "If the alimony isn't enough, tell the lawyers. I told them to be generous. Add a zero if you want. Just sign the damn papers."

He thought she was holding out for money. He thought she was a parasite.

If she told him now... if she pulled out that stick... what would happen?

She looked at his cold face. She thought of Fiona, the woman who had tormented her for years in the press, the woman Julian believed was a saint. If Julian knew about the baby, he wouldn't love her. He would take the child. He would give the baby to Fiona to raise. Nancy would be cast aside, and her child would be a pawn in the Sterling family games.

A fierce, cold protectiveness washed over her. It dried her tears instantly.

She couldn't let him know. Not now. Not while he looked at her with such disdain.

Nancy walked to the table. She picked up the heavy Montblanc pen lying next to the papers. She didn't look at the clauses. She didn't look at the settlement figures.

She signed her name. Nancy Vane. She hesitated, the pen hovering, before adding Sterling in a smaller, cramped script, fulfilling the legal requirement of her current identity.

She capped the pen and pushed the papers back toward him.

"As you wish," she whispered.

Julian blinked. He seemed surprised by her lack of a fight. He picked up the papers, scanning the signature as if checking for a trick. When he found none, the tension in his shoulders didn't leave; it just shifted.

"The lawyers will contact you about the move-out date," he said. "You can stay here for a few weeks while you find a place."

"I'll be fine," she said.

He nodded, once, curtly. "Good."

He turned and walked to the door. He didn't look back. He didn't say Happy Anniversary. He just opened the door and left.

The heavy click of the latch echoed through the penthouse.

Nancy sank to her knees on the plush carpet. She pulled the pregnancy test out of her pocket. She curled around it, her forehead touching the floor, and for the first time that night, she let herself scream.