Chapter 1

The sticky sweetness of cheap champagne coated my tongue, a bitter memory.

Thanksgiving.

Last year. Or a lifetime ago.

They'd filled my mouth with pecan pie, rich and cloying.

Knowing.

My throat closed. My lungs burned.

While I gasped for air, a forgotten doll in a gilded cage, Ethan was miles away.

Miami.

Sun, sand, and Emily wrapped in his arms on a private yacht.

The clatter of a dropped glass jolted me.

The scent of expensive perfume, not stale pie, filled my nostrils.

I blinked.

Clear. My mind was utterly, terrifyingly clear.

I was alive.

And I wasn't a fool anymore.

My father's voice, warm and familiar, wrapped around me.

"My Bella, all grown up. Twenty years old! Look at these fine young men. Anyone catch your eye? Just say the word, darling, and he's yours."

His eyes, full of that deep, unwavering love, met mine.

I followed his gesture.

A sea of hopeful, anxious faces. Young men from New York's finest families, suddenly very interested in their shoes.

Whispers, like dry leaves skittering across pavement.

"She's beautiful, sure, but... you know. Not all there. Heard she still plays with dolls."

"A tragedy, really. Rothschild's millions, and she's got the mind of a child."

"Don't worry, it'll be Carter. She follows him around like a puppy. He's practically a shoo-in."

Their eyes darted, almost in unison, towards a man standing slightly apart.

Ethan Carter.

Immaculate in his custom suit, a carefully constructed mask of polite interest on his handsome face.

Only the slight tightening of his jaw, the almost imperceptible downward turn of his lips, betrayed him.

He didn't want this.

A bitter laugh almost escaped me.

Don't worry, Ethan.

This time, I don't want you either.

"Bella-boo usually can't stop talking about Mr. Carter," Dad chuckled, oblivious. "Cat got your tongue tonight, sweetheart? Shy, are we?"

All eyes were on me.

I manufactured a smile, the kind I'd seen on the society pages. Cool, distant, polite.

I raised a hand, pointing directly at Ethan.

My father beamed. "I knew it! My Bella has her heart set on Ethan!"

A collective sigh of relief went through the room.

Only Ethan looked like he'd been struck by lightning. Anger, disbelief, then a flicker of something else – resignation? – crossed his face.

He took a breath, clearly about to step forward, to accept his fate.

But I wasn't finished.

"Father," I said, my voice even, clear, each word perfectly enunciated. "I wasn't pointing at Mr. Carter for myself."

The room fell silent again.

"I merely wish to ask a favor of you... for Mr. Carter."

My tone, my composure – it was so unlike the "silly" Bella they all knew.

The whispers died. The polite smiles froze.

Ethan's head snapped up. He stared at me, naked shock in his eyes.

My father, too, was stunned. He leaned forward, his voice hoarse.

"Bella? My Bella... what did you just say? Did I hear you right? Are you... are you...?"

Hope, bright and desperate, flared in his eyes.

I met his gaze and nodded, a single, firm movement.

"Yes, Father. I'm... better now. I'm so sorry for all the years of worry, for the embarrassment I've caused our family."

I curtsied, a proper, formal gesture, then started to kneel.

He was there in an instant, pulling me up, crushing me in a hug, tears in his eyes. "My girl, my brilliant girl!"

It took a moment for the rest of the room to catch up.

Then, the buzz started.

The same young men who'd avoided my gaze moments before were now looking at me with a new light in their eyes. Eager. Predatory.

They started to move closer, offering smiles, murmured congratulations.

I ignored them.

I cleared my throat.

"Father, if I may? Please, would you grant a boon? For Mr. Carter and Miss Emily White. They are so clearly devoted to one another."