Chapter 1

After I married into the Sterling family, the changes in the city were immediate and obvious. One by one, the major tech startups began to display the Sterling name, their logos shining from new glass buildings, their successes suddenly tied to a family known for old money, not new ideas. These were my companies, the fruits of my labor, now absorbed into his world.

But on our wedding night, that world felt very far away. My husband, Mark Sterling, was not with me. He was in his cousin' s penthouse across town. When I called him, his voice was cool and distant.

"I have to work," he said, the excuse so thin it was transparent.

The next morning, when he finally came home, I stood waiting for him in the grand foyer of the mansion that was supposed to be our home. I asked him why.

He looked me up and down, his handsome face twisting into a sneer. "A self-made woman like you, all ambition and no class. Don't taint my world. I wouldn't have married you if my parents hadn't forced me."

His words struck me, but I didn't let the hurt show. I had built an empire from nothing, and I was not a woman who crumbled easily.

Later that week, I overheard him talking to a friend on the phone, his voice carrying through the library door he' d left ajar. He was laughing, a rich, careless sound. "They say Ava' s tech company is a goldmine. Marrying her means I' m set for life."

The friend on the other end must have said something, because Mark chuckled again. "The company' s decent, but Ava? She' s utterly bland. Tasteless, really."

That was it. The last illusion shattered. I went to my room, took out a single sheet of paper, and signed my name to the divorce filing I' d had my lawyer prepare just in case. I left it on the polished mahogany of his desk, a silent testament to his greed and my freedom.

That night, I fled the city. They didn't know the truth. My company wasn' t just a goldmine. It was a tech empire, with roots stretching far beyond this city, into the capital and across the globe.

Five years passed.

I saw Mark Sterling again at a high-profile charity auction. The room was filled with the city' s elite, dripping with jewels and false smiles. I was there for a vintage sports car, a beautiful machine I' d admired since I was a girl.

As the auctioneer presented it, I raised my hand to bid. But before a number could leave my lips, a familiar voice cut through the room from behind me.

"Double the opening bid."

The room fell silent. It was Mark. He stood with his arm wrapped possessively around his cousin, Sarah Sterling, a woman whose smile was as sharp as her nails. They were laughing, their amusement echoing in the sudden quiet.

I frowned. A flicker of old stubbornness ignited inside me. I was not going to concede this to them.

"Triple the original price!" I called out, my voice clear and steady.

Mark turned, his laughter caught in his throat. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed with disdain when he saw it was me.

A woman in a nearby seat whispered loudly to her companion, "Isn't that the woman Mark Sterling dumped? How dare she show her face in this city again, let alone try to outbid his darling Sarah for a car?"

Mark hesitated, his gaze flicking between me and the car. Sarah tugged at his arm, her voice a childish whine.

"Marky, I have to have this car! If anyone else gets it, I' ll never speak to you again!"

He looked down at her with doting eyes, a soft laugh escaping his throat. It was a look he had never once given me.

"Don' t worry," he murmured, loud enough for those around them to hear. "She can' t outbid me."

He was so certain. When I left the city, they had made sure I took nothing but the clothes on my back. They assumed a single woman, abandoned and stripped of her assets, couldn't possibly survive, let alone thrive. Mark was convinced I was broke. He leaned back lazily in his chair, a picture of arrogance, and casually raised the bid.

"Quadruple the original price!"

I looked at his face, so familiar yet so alien. Five years, and he hadn't changed at all. If anything, the unearned wealth had made him even more arrogant, more certain of his own superiority. I had once believed he married me because he saw something in me, something he cared for. Now I saw with painful clarity that he had never wanted me, only what I could give him.

I clutched the antique locket that hung from a chain at my waist. I was silent for a long moment, the whispers of the crowd buzzing around me.

Mark' s smile didn' t reach his eyes as he stared at me, enjoying my hesitation. "Ava, are you done with this charade? Is this all because you regret leaving me and want my attention?"

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, insulting murmur. "If you regret it, just get on your knees and beg Sarah for forgiveness. Maybe she' ll let you be her maid. But don' t expect me to touch you. A common, money-grubbing woman like you isn' t even fit to clean my shoes."

Sarah, nestled smugly in his arms, smirked at me. Her eyes said it all: You can' t have the man or the car. She scanned me from head to toe, her smile widening.

"Don' t act so high and mighty. Look at you, so shabby. You probably don' t have a dime to your name, do you?"

She wasn't entirely wrong. I had rushed out that morning and hadn't brought any cash. But my locket, the one I now held tightly in my hand, was linked to my offshore accounts.

Someone nearby, a man I vaguely recognized from my past life in this city, whispered, "Ms. Reed, you grew up in this city. Why don' t you just humble yourself and ask Mr. Sterling for forgiveness?"

Forgiveness? What had I ever done that required his forgiveness?

When I finally spoke, there was no hesitation left in my voice, only ice.

"I bid ten times the original price."