Chapter 1

My boyfriend, Ethan, is an intern at my architecture firm. He' s from a small town in the Midwest, sweet and a little naive, always looking at me with wide, adoring eyes. He tells me I' m his whole world.

I' m a junior architect, buried in student loan debt from my Ohio State degree, working brutal hours to climb the ladder in this cutthroat New York City firm. We live together in a SoHo loft that costs me over half my salary. It' s a huge stretch for both of us, or so I thought. I pay for our dates, I buy his clothes, I mentor him at work, cleaning up the mistakes his inexperience causes.

I do it because I love him, and because I believe we are building a life together, struggling side-by-side. I believe we are a team.

Today, I found out that our whole life is a lie. Ethan isn' t a struggling intern. He' s Ethan Lester, the sole heir to the Lester Holdings real estate empire. He' s my landlord. He' s the son of my firm' s biggest client. And I' m the only one who didn' t know.

How could a two-year relationship be a complete fabrication? While I was budgeting for groceries, was he laughing about it on his yacht? While I was covering his rent, was he closing multi-million dollar deals? The questions pound in my head, each one a fresh wave of nausea.

My best friend Molly, who' s always been suspicious of his "aw-shucks" act, dragged me to this exclusive open house in the Hamptons. It was for a project I' ve dreamed of designing, a stunning beachfront property. I went to network, to dream a little.

Then I saw him. Ethan. He was supposed to be upstate, visiting his "sick aunt."

Instead, he was the center of attention, surrounded by developers, looking completely at ease in a world of impossible wealth. He was wearing a suit I' d never seen, one that probably cost more than my car. I watched, hidden behind a potted plant, as he laughed and casually gifted the entire $15 million property to a glamorous woman who looked like an Instagram model. Someone clapped him on the back.

"A generous gift, Mr. Lester!"

Mr. Lester.

The name hit me like a physical blow. My hands started shaking so badly I could barely hold my phone. A quick Google search confirmed it all. Ethan Lester. Lester Holdings. Pictures of him at galas, on magazine covers, standing next to his father, the titan of New York real estate.

The man I shared a bed with, the man I thought was my partner, was a complete stranger. And I was the fool in his story.

Just as the reality began to crash down on me, my phone buzzed. It was my office. An emergency.

"Gabrielle, we need you back here now. There' s a critical error in the proposal for the Henderson project."

The Henderson project. Ethan' s project. The one I' d spent all last week fixing for him.

"I already fixed that proposal," I said, my voice tight.

"I know," my colleague stammered, "but... another mistake was found. We need you to handle it."

The world tilted. He wasn' t just lying to me. He was playing a game with my life, my career, my heart. And the show was just beginning.