Chapter 3

Julian was annoyed when he found me gone from the gala suite.

He assumed I was sulking in our penthouse.

When he arrived home late, Chloe still on his arm, and found my closets half-empty, he was irritated, not alarmed.

"Having a tantrum, is she?" he muttered to Chloe, pouring them both a drink. "She'll be back. Where else would she go?"

He underestimated me. He always had.

He didn't know about the money. He probably forgot the details of that old agreement.

He focused on Chloe. She was new, compliant, and looked so much like Seraphina, especially when she tilted her head a certain way.

He called her "Sera" sometimes, when he was drunk or distracted.

Chloe didn't mind. She was playing a role, and she was being well compensated for it.

Days turned into a week.

Julian didn't call. He expected me to crawl back, apologetic.

His mother probably reinforced this belief. "She has no one, Julian. No family, no real skills beyond those flowers she fusses over. She'll realize her mistake."

My "fussing" with flowers. My small talent for horticulture, the only thing that brought me peace in that sterile penthouse, was dismissed as a trivial hobby.

They didn't know it was a lifeline.

They didn't know about the foster home with the scraggly rosebush I' d coaxed into bloom, the one where a boy named Lee had called me Clara-Rose.

They didn't know about the quiet strength I' d cultivated in the shadows of their grand lives.

The penthouse staff reported my departure. Julian waved it off. "Let her cool down."

He was busy. Business deals, social events, grooming Chloe to be the perfect companion.

The Sterling household continued, seemingly unruffled.

Except, the roses I tended on the terrace began to wilt. The head housekeeper, Mrs. Davies, who had shown me small kindnesses, mentioned it to Julian.

"The roses are looking poorly, Mr. Sterling. Miss Clara always knew how to care for them."

Julian frowned. He hadn't noticed. He rarely went on the terrace.

Then Finn started asking.

"Where Mama?" he' d ask his nanny, his small brow furrowed.

Mrs. Sterling would deflect. "Mama is on a little trip, darling. She'll be back."

But I wasn't on a little trip. I was in Vermont.