Heidi stepped onto the stairs. The crisp autumn wind of New York whipped her long, dark, wavy hair back. She wore a custom-tailored, deep-V black trench coat and red-bottom stilettos.

She raised her chin. Her face was entirely different. Four years of agonizing reconstructive surgeries had erased the soft, timid girl she used to be. Now, her features were sharp, cold, and breathtakingly striking.

Four-year-old Caleb walked calmly by her left side. He wore a miniature tailored suit. He pushed his blue-light blocking glasses up his nose, his eyes scanning the tarmac with unnatural calculation.

On her right, four-year-old Seraphina bounced on her heels. She wore a fluffy pink dress and clutched a worn stuffed bunny to her chest.

Heidi gripped their small hands. She walked into the VIP arrivals terminal. Her presence immediately drew the stares of the few wealthy travelers scattered around the lounge.

Suddenly, a rapid burst of camera flashes erupted from the right corridor.

Heidi stopped. Her eyes darted toward the noise behind her dark sunglasses.

Surrounded by a dozen men in black suits, Christian Page walked into view.

He wore a charcoal gray suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. Four years had made his jawline sharper, his presence even more suffocatingly cold.

Brigette tried to cling to his arm, but he subtly kept a formal distance, allowing her only to lightly touch his elbow. She wore the latest Chanel tweed jacket, flashing a practiced, elegant smile at the paparazzi.

Heidi's hands shoved into her trench coat pockets. Her fists clenched so hard her nails dug crescent moons into her palms. Her blood boiled.

Caleb felt the sudden, rigid tension in his mother's arm. He tilted his head, his sharp eyes locking onto the crowd.

Seraphina stopped bouncing. Her large eyes fixed on Christian. She tilted her head.

"Mommy," Seraphina whispered, her voice soft. "That man looks really sad inside."

Heidi took a sharp breath. She forced her muscles to relax. "Don't stare, kids. Keep walking."

A gossip reporter shoved a microphone past the security line. "Mr. Page! When is the official wedding date with Miss Rutledge?"

Christian's footsteps stopped. A flash of pure disgust crossed his eyes. He glared at the reporter.

Brigette immediately pressed her chest against his arm. "We are currently planning the details," she answered sweetly.

Christian didn't say a word. He violently yanked his arm out of Brigette's grasp. He didn't care about the cameras. He didn't care about her frozen, humiliated expression.

Heidi watched from a distance. A cold smirk touched her lips. Trouble in paradise.

Christian turned to walk away. But then, he stopped.

His body went rigid. He snapped his head toward the VIP exit.

Across thirty feet of bustling terminal, his eyes locked directly onto Heidi.

Heidi's heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat. But she didn't look away. She lifted her chin higher, staring right back at him through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

Christian's dark brows pulled together. He stared at the tall, cold woman in the black coat. His chest tightened. A bizarre, suffocating wave of familiarity slammed into his ribs.

Brigette followed his gaze. She only saw a wealthy woman with two kids. "Christian? The car is waiting."

His assistant leaned in. "Sir, the board meeting is in an hour."

Christian broke the eye contact. He swallowed hard, pushing down the sudden ache in his chest. He turned and walked through the sliding glass doors.

Heidi watched the black Page family motorcade pull away from the curb. She slowly took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were like arctic ice.

The Mcdaniel family butler stepped forward and bowed. "Welcome back, Miss. The Manhattan penthouse is ready."

Heidi put her sunglasses back on. She squeezed her children's hands.

"The game starts now," she said coldly. "Let's go home."

Chapter 3

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