Chapter 1

The polo match in the Hamptons was a sea of white linen and pastel dresses. I hated it. It was Julian' s world, not mine. I was Elara, a jazz singer from New Orleans, and I felt like a bird in a gilded cage. The only reason I stayed was for them: my five-year-old twin sons, Leo and Noah, who were currently chasing a butterfly near the manicured hedges, their laughter the only real music in this stuffy, artificial place.

Julian Thorne, my husband, wasn' t watching them. His eyes, as always, were fixed on Scarlett Vance, his high school sweetheart. She was standing beside him, a vision in pale pink, her hand resting lightly on his arm. He called her his "white moonlight," a term that made my stomach turn. He had once called me his "authentic soul," but that was before Scarlett came back into his life, a single mother with a fragile daughter, Penelope.

A sudden scream cut through the polite chatter.

Penelope, Scarlett' s daughter, had tripped and fallen. It was a minor stumble, but Scarlett' s reaction was theatrical, a frantic cry for help. Julian was by her side in an instant, his face a mask of concern I hadn' t seen directed at me or our sons in years.

Later that night, the call came. Penelope was in the hospital. A minor fall had triggered a major medical crisis. She had a rare, severe form of aplastic anemia and needed an immediate bone marrow transplant.

I found Julian in his study, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring out at the Manhattan skyline.

"They tested Scarlett. She' s not a match," he said, his voice flat. "But the doctors have a solution."

He turned to look at me, and his eyes were cold, devoid of any emotion.

"Leo and Noah. They' re perfect matches."

My blood ran cold. "Julian, no. They' re only five. A bone marrow donation is a serious procedure for a child."

"Don' t be so dramatic, Elara," he snapped. "It' s a simple extraction. They' ll be fine."

"Let them test me," I pleaded, my voice trembling. "I' ll do it. I' ll do anything."

He laughed, a short, bitter sound. "You? You' re not a match. Besides, this is for the best. It ensures the boys are useful to the family."

Before I could argue further, he made a call. "Get the boys ready. We' re going to the hospital now." He hung up and looked at me, his expression unyielding. "Scarlett will oversee the process. She' s a better mother. She understands what needs to be done."

The words hit me harder than a physical blow. He was not just taking my sons; he was erasing me from my own role as their mother.