Chapter 1

The chandeliers of the Prescott Grand Ballroom dripped light onto the laughing, chattering crowd, but I wasn't laughing.

I was looking for Seraphina, my Seraphina.

Then I saw her.

She wasn't alone.

She was pressed against Marcus Blackwood, his hand possessively on her waist, her lips locked with his.

A sharp intake of breath beside me told me I wasn't the only one who'd noticed.

Sera pulled back from Blackwood, saw me.

No shame in her eyes, only a cold, hard glint.

She walked towards me, Blackwood smirking at her side.

"Ethan," she said, her voice loud enough for the nearby clusters of people to hear. "Perfect timing. I was just telling Marcus, it's over between us."

The murmurs started, a ripple spreading through the onlookers.

"Over?" I kept my voice even.

"Yes, over," she scoffed, gesturing vaguely at me. "Look at you, Ethan. A relic. Charming, perhaps, but this," she hooked a thumb at Blackwood, "is the future. Dynamic. Real."

She touched the small, antique brass compass I'd given her, a Thorne family heirloom, or so I'd let her believe, a piece tied to our shared prosperity. It hung on a delicate chain around her neck.

"This old thing," she said, flicking it with a fingernail. "It's probably as lost as you are."

I looked at the compass. It was tarnished, dull, its needle swaying erratically.

"Some instruments lose their way, Seraphina," I said, my voice quiet but carrying. "Especially when they forget their true north. There will be consequences."

The crowd around us wasn't trying to be subtle anymore, their whispers growing louder, morphing into snickers.

"Did you hear that? 'Consequences'!" a woman with too much jewelry tittered.

Blackwood stepped forward, puffing his chest. "Consequences for who, Thorne? For Sera, choosing a winner? Or for you, for not keeping up?"

He draped an arm around Sera's shoulders, pulling her close. She leaned into him, a triumphant smile playing on her lips.

"He just doesn't get it, does he, darling?" Sera said, looking up at Blackwood, then back at me with pitying contempt. "Ethan, you live in the past. Your family, your ways... they're quaint. But this is the real world. Power, money, that's what matters now."

"The Thorne name used to mean something," someone muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Used to," another voice echoed, followed by a dry laugh.

Sera basked in their validation, her chin held high. "You see, Ethan? It's not just me. Everyone knows."

I ignored them, focusing on Sera. "We had an agreement, Seraphina. The Vance-Thorne Prosperity Pact. Your father and I sealed it."

It wasn't just a business deal, it was tied to the Thorne Providence, the method my family had guarded for generations. Her family's recent surge in fortune was no accident.

Sera laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Oh, that dusty old paper? My father indulged you, Ethan. I'm not bound by your archaic superstitions. I make my own destiny now."

She reached up, unclasped the chain holding the compass, and dangled it in front of me.

"Here," she said, her eyes glittering with malice. "Take your trinket back. I don't need it anymore."

She didn't hand it to me.

She let it drop.

It hit the polished marble floor with a small, sad clink, skittering a few inches before lying still, face down.

A definitive act. A severing.

My gaze followed the fallen compass.

That particular compass wasn't just a trinket, it was a conduit, specially attuned.

I'd poured a measure of the Thorne Providence into its making, linking its integrity to the Vance family's continued success, a success I had meticulously orchestrated from the shadows for the past five years, ever since Arthur Vance, her father, had sought my family's unique assistance.

He knew the legends of the Thorne Providence, how it had kept my reclusive New England family prosperous through wars, depressions, and the changing tides of fortune for centuries.

Sera, in her arrogance, believed her family's recent boom was all her own doing, or her father's.

She had no idea.

Now, watching that compass lie broken and discarded, I saw more than just a rejected gift.

I saw the cracks already forming in the Vance empire's foundation, a direct result of her disrespect, her severing of the pact.

The Providence didn't take kindly to betrayal.

"You'll regret this, Seraphina," I stated, my voice devoid of heat, a simple statement of fact. "What you've discarded is more than just metal and glass. It's your family's continued fortune."

Blackwood snorted. "Is that a threat, Thorne? Are you going to sue her for emotional distress? Want a payout?"

Sera smirked. "Oh, Ethan, always so dramatic. If it's money you're worried about, I'm sure Daddy can write you a check for your troubles. A little something for your wounded pride?"

Her arrogance was a shield, deflecting any truth she didn't want to see.

She thought this was about sentiment, or perhaps a desperate grab for money.

She couldn't be more wrong. The Thorne Providence wasn't about common finance, it was about the currents of fate, and she had just thrown a boulder into her own stream.