Chapter 3 3

Jessenia pushed open the glass door of the VIP lounge. Her eyes immediately scanned the room.

A girl was sitting on the edge of the leather sofa. She looked to be in her early twenties. Her hair was a messy knot of blonde waves. She was wearing a pair of faded denim shorts and a white button-down shirt. On her wrist, she wore a simple bracelet woven from tiny, iridescent shells, a memento from her home.

Jessenia stopped breathing for a second.

The shirt was massive on the girl's small frame. But Jessenia recognized the fabric instantly. It was a custom Brunello Cucinelli shirt. It was the exact shirt Harlan had been wearing the day his private plane went down over the ocean.

The sight of another woman wearing Harlan's clothes felt like a physical needle piercing Jessenia's eyeball. It was an intimate, silent declaration of ownership.

Jessenia forced her jaw to relax. She pasted a flawless, high-society smile onto her face. She walked forward, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor.

"Hi," Jessenia said. Her voice was dripping with condescending gratitude. "I'm Jessenia. Harlan's fiancée. I cannot thank you enough for what you did for him."

She held out her hand.

Kaylee Ryan stood up. She looked at Jessenia's outstretched hand, but she didn't take it. Instead, Kaylee's eyes dropped to Jessenia's left hand. She stared directly at the massive, five-carat diamond engagement ring on Jessenia's finger.

Kaylee bit her lower lip. She looked up through her eyelashes.

"Cole never said he had a fiancée," Kaylee said. Her voice was high, soft, and entirely too innocent.

Jessenia's smile froze. Cole.

The nickname hit her like a slap to the face. Harlan's middle name was Cole, but no one in New York ever called him that. It was a name Kaylee had given him. A name that belonged entirely to the three years of blank space in his memory.

Jessenia slowly lowered her hand.

"He suffered a terrible head injury," Jessenia said smoothly. "He forgot a lot of things. But his family trust and his life here have always been waiting for him."

She emphasized the words family trust. It was a deliberate, brutal reminder of the class divide between them. A reminder that Kaylee was a nobody from a fishing village, and Jessenia was the woman holding the keys to the kingdom.

Kaylee shrank back. Her eyes filled with tears. She grabbed the hem of the oversized shirt and twisted it nervously in her fingers.

"I don't know anything about trusts," Kaylee whispered, her voice trembling. "I just know he is my Cole."

The door behind Jessenia opened. Eleanor walked into the lounge.

Eleanor saw Kaylee standing there, looking small, terrified, and on the verge of tears. Eleanor's maternal instincts immediately flared. She walked past Jessenia and took Kaylee's hands in hers.

"Oh, you poor dear," Eleanor said. "You must be so overwhelmed."

Kaylee leaned into Eleanor's touch. She looked like a frightened deer seeking shelter.

"We owe you everything," Eleanor continued. "I want to buy you a house in the Hamptons. And set up an account for you with enough money so you will never have to work a day in your life."

Kaylee's eyes widened in horror. She violently shook her head and pulled her hands back.

"No!" Kaylee cried out. "No, please. I don't want your money. I don't want a house. I just want to stay near Cole. I just want to make sure he gets better. Please don't send me away."

Jessenia watched the performance. Her stomach churned with disgust. The girl was good. The outright refusal of money was the ultimate proof of purity in the eyes of the wealthy.

Eleanor looked incredibly moved. She turned to Jessenia.

"Jessie," Eleanor said. "Let's arrange the guest suite on the sixtieth floor for Kaylee. That way she's close by if Harlan needs anything. It might comfort him to have a familiar face in the building."

Jessenia's heart slammed against her ribs. Letting this girl into the penthouse was inviting a viper into her bed. It was a fatal mistake.

But Jessenia couldn't say no. Her entire position in the family relied on Eleanor's approval. If she acted jealous or territorial now, the perfect fiancée mask would slip.

Jessenia dug her nails into her palms. She forced a bright, welcoming smile.

"Of course," Jessenia said. "That's a wonderful idea. I'll have Arthur prepare the best guest room for her."

Kaylee looked at Jessenia. The tears were still in her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward into a microscopic, triumphant smirk.

Three days later, Harlan was discharged.

The private elevator doors opened directly into the foyer of the Schwartz penthouse. Kaylee stepped out, having been brought up from the sixtieth floor under the guise of a visit. She was holding a faded, dirty canvas duffel bag. She stood in the middle of the grand foyer, surrounded by marble columns and crystal chandeliers, looking intentionally pathetic.

Jessenia stood near the hallway.

"Arthur," Jessenia commanded. "Please escort Miss Ryan back to the sixtieth-floor guest suite."

Kaylee didn't move. She dropped her canvas bag onto the marble floor.

"Actually," Kaylee said loudly. She pointed down the main hallway, directly at the door opposite the master suite. "Cole is used to hearing my voice at night when he has nightmares. The sixtieth floor is too far. I should stay in that room."

The foyer went dead silent. The maids stopped moving. Arthur looked at the floor.

Jessenia stared at Kaylee. The innocent act was gone. This was a direct, territorial challenge in front of the entire household staff. The war had officially begun.