Chapter 2

The New York charity gala was a sea of glittering gowns and hushed whispers.

King Holdings was a major sponsor. My presence was expected.

Paparazzi flashes blinded me as I stepped onto the red carpet.

"Savannah! Over here! Is it true you're looking for a husband?"

"Miss King, any comment on the rumors about Ethan Vanderbilt?"

I kept my smile polite, my answers vague.

Inside, the air buzzed. I felt eyes on me.

Then, they arrived.

Ethan Vanderbilt III, impossibly handsome, dangerously charming.

On his arm, Tiffany "Tiff" Miller, a social media starlet, all teeth and ambition.

She wore a custom gown. The exact gown I had sketched, discussed with a designer, then discarded when my world ended the first time.

My breath caught. How could she have it?

Ethan's eyes found mine across the ballroom. A smirk played on his lips.

He leaned into the microphone at a nearby table, ostensibly making a toast.

"To new beginnings," he said, his voice carrying. "And to the woman who has shown me what true love is. Tiffany, my brilliant star."

Tiff preened, her laughter sharp. She looked directly at me, a malicious glint in her eyes.

The crowd applauded. They saw a golden couple. I saw a predator and his accomplice.

Later, Ethan cornered me near the terrace.

"Savannah," he said, his voice a low purr that once made me melt. Now, it made my skin crawl. "Following me all the way to New York? I'm flattered, but as you can see, I've moved on."

"I'm here for the charity, Ethan," I said, my voice cold. "And for my family's interests."

"Sure, you are," he scoffed. "You always did like to play games. But Tiff isn't like you. She's genuine."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him about the fire, the pain, the loss.

But he wouldn't believe me. He'd call me crazy.

Suddenly, Tiff was there, clinging to Ethan's arm.

"Ethan, darling, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice dripping with false concern. Then she looked at me. "Oh, Savannah. Are you bothering Ethan? He's trying to enjoy his evening."

"I was just leaving," I said.

As I turned, Tiff "tripped." Her champagne flute went flying, its contents splashing down the front of my pale silk dress.

"Oh, my goodness! I am so clumsy!" Tiff cried, not looking clumsy at all.

Ethan put his arm around her. "It's alright, Tiff. Accidents happen." He looked at me, his eyes hard. "You should be more careful where you stand, Savannah."

My dress was ruined. A sticky, cold mess.

Humiliation burned, but beneath it, a cold resolve solidified.

This was their game. Public torment.

My parents appeared at my side. Dad's face was grim. Mom looked concerned.

"Are you alright, Savannah?" Dad asked, his voice tight.

"I'm fine," I said, though my hands were shaking. "Just a spill."

Caleb Hayes, who had arrived quietly with his parents, approached. He hadn't said much all evening, but his eyes were kind.

He offered me his handkerchief without a word.

I took it, grateful for the small, silent gesture of support.

Ethan and Tiff watched, Ethan looking smug, Tiff triumphant.

I would not let them break me. Not again. This life would be different.