Chapter 1

My father' s voice hit me like a slap.

"He still hasn' t called, Amelia? What are you good for?"

I flinched, turning from the kitchen sink, my hands still damp.

David Hayes, my father, stood in the doorway, his face tight with anger and the familiar desperation that had become a permanent fixture in our house.

"Dad, I told you, Ethan' s busy."

"Busy? Or tired of you? Leo needs that surgery. That Vanderbilt money is the only way. You know that."

Leo. My little brother. His heart was failing, and the doctors said only a miracle surgery, an expensive one, could save him.

"I know, Dad. I' m trying."

"Trying isn' t good enough! You fix it. You fix whatever you did to upset Ethan Vanderbilt. Or Leo..." He didn' t finish, he didn' t have to. The threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

I remembered last Saturday, a charity gala crawling with New York' s elite.

Ethan had barely looked at me all night. I wore the dress he' d picked, smiled until my face ached, but he was always across the room, charming a new heiress, his laughter echoing while I stood alone.

I finally cornered him near the gardens. "Ethan, can we talk?"

He' d looked down at me, his eyes cold. "About what, Mia? Your riveting observations on the canapés?"

"About us," I whispered, feeling small.

"Us?" He gave a short, cruel laugh. "Don' t be dramatic. You' re here, aren' t you? Isn' t that enough for someone like you?"

Someone like me. From upstate. Not from money.

I' d fled to the bathroom, tears burning my eyes, his dismissal clinging to me like cheap perfume. He hadn' t even noticed I was gone.

The phone shrilled, making me jump.

My father snatched it from the counter before I could. "Vanderbilt," he mouthed, his eyes wide with a mixture of hope and fear.

He listened, then handed it to me, his expression stern. "It' s him. Don' t mess this up."

I took the phone, my hand trembling. "Hello?"

"Mia. My place. Now." Ethan' s voice was clipped, devoid of warmth.

Then, the click of him hanging up.

My father stared at me. "You heard him. Go. And for God' s sake, Amelia, be agreeable. Think of Leo."

Agreeable. That was my role. The agreeable girlfriend from the wrong side of the tracks, clinging to the wealthy Vanderbilt heir. For Leo. Always for Leo.

The drive to Ethan' s penthouse was a blur of city lights and a knot of dread in my stomach.

A tiny, stupid part of me, the part that hadn' t yet been completely crushed, hoped. Maybe he felt bad. Maybe he wanted to apologize. Maybe, just maybe, he' d talk about a future, a secure one, one where Leo' s surgery was a certainty.

I clutched the worn photo of Leo I kept in my wallet. His smile, so innocent, so trusting.

I had to do this for him.

The doorman, used to my comings and goings over the past five years, nodded me through. I still had a key, a relic from a time I' d foolishly believed it meant something.

The elevator opened directly into his apartment. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Then I heard it – a low murmur of voices, a distinctly female laugh.

My heart sank.

I walked towards the living area, the expensive rug muffling my steps.

And there he was. Ethan. Lounging on the oversized sofa. And with him, a woman I' d never seen before. She was stunning, all sharp angles and expensive-looking blonde hair, draped over him, her hand stroking his chest. They were sharing a glass of champagne, their faces close.

They both looked up as I stepped into the room.

Ethan' s expression wasn' t guilt, or even surprise. It was annoyance.

"Mia. What are you doing here?"

The woman – Isabella, I would soon learn her name was – didn' t move, just watched me with a cool, assessing gaze, a small smirk playing on her lips.

"I... you called me," I stammered, feeling like an intruder.

"Oh, right." Ethan sat up a little, dislodging Isabella slightly. He didn' t seem to care. "Actually, this is good timing. Mia, meet Isabella Romano."

Isabella extended a perfectly manicured hand, her eyes glinting with triumph. I didn' t take it.

Ethan continued, his voice casual, as if he were discussing the weather. "Isabella and I, well, we' re getting married."

The words hit me, stealing the air from my lungs. Married.

He looked at me then, a flicker of something almost like pity, but it quickly turned to disdain. "You were always a bit... much, Mia. So intense. Isabella, she' s a breath of fresh air. Understand?"

I understood. I was being discarded. And he didn' t even have the decency to look ashamed.