Chapter 1

The warehouse air was stale, thick with the smell of cardboard and cheap cleaning fluid.

Elara Vance swiped her card, clocking out.

Five years.

Five years of this, of food delivery runs before dawn, of stocking shelves until her back screamed, of cleaning other people' s messes after dark.

All for Liam.

All to pay off the fifty thousand dollar debt from his "failed startup."

Tonight, it was over.

She clutched the worn envelope in her pocket, stuffed with the final cash payment. Fifty thousand dollars. Her sweat, her exhaustion, her sacrificed dreams.

She' d given up her spot at The Vanguard Conservators, the world' s most prestigious art conservation guild, for this. For him.

Liam, her kind, supportive, struggling Liam.

He' d be waiting, probably pacing their tiny, rundown apartment in the city's toughest neighborhood. She imagined his relief.

She pushed through the heavy exit door into the gritty city night, a rare smile on her face.

The address for the "loan shark" Liam had given her was an exclusive VIP lounge downtown, "Seraphine's." Odd, but Liam said the guy liked to show off.

Elara felt out of place in her worn jeans and faded t-shirt as the bouncer, after a skeptical look at her envelope, waved her in.

The lounge pulsed with low music and expensive perfume.

And then she saw him.

Liam.

Not the struggling entrepreneur she knew.

He was in a tailored suit, laughing, a champagne flute in his hand.

He was with Chloe Van Der Woodsen, a viper in silk, a socialite from his wealthy background Elara had only heard whispers about.

Chloe, who Liam claimed was just an old family acquaintance he barely tolerated.

The man Elara knew as her gig economy supervisor, Mr. Henderson, was bowing slightly, refilling Liam' s champagne.

The supposed "loan shark," a burly man Liam had described with fear, was standing beside Henderson, smiling, almost fawning.

Elara froze, the envelope suddenly heavy as lead.

Then she heard Liam' s voice, smooth and cold, so different from the anxious tones he used with her.

"Another fifty K from the little workhorse. She actually did it."

Chloe laughed, a tinkling, cruel sound. "Darling, you' re a genius. What should we buy with it? Those ridiculous shoes I saw on Fifth Avenue?"

"No, no," Liam said, a smirk playing on his lips. "I think it' s time for phase two. We'll tell her the interest compounded. Another hundred thousand. Keep her busy. Keep her grateful."

He leaned in and kissed Chloe, a long, possessive kiss.

The room tilted.

The fifty thousand dollars in her pocket felt like burning coals.

Five years.

Her hands, raw from cleaning chemicals and rough boxes, clenched.

The delicate touch, praised by her mentors, the touch that could coax life back into centuries-old masterpieces, now calloused and trembling with a rage so profound it stole her breath.

Her sacrifice wasn't for love. It was for his amusement.

Her life, a carefully constructed lie.

The hummingbird charm on the silver locket he' d given her in art school, the one she wore every day, suddenly felt like a tiny, cold weight against her heart. A symbol of a love that never was.