Chapter 1

The last of the party guests had finally left, their laughter and chatter fading into the quiet hum of the sprawling Vance mansion. My 22nd birthday was officially over. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of hope and fear. This was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment I had replayed in my mind a thousand times.

I found Ethan Vance in his study, the rich scent of leather and old books wrapping around me like a familiar hug. He stood by the massive window, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring out at the city lights that glittered below like a blanket of scattered diamonds.

"Ethan," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He turned, a smile touching his lips. It was the smile that had defined my world since I was eight years old, the smile of my guardian, my father's best friend, the man who had saved me from the wreckage of my childhood.

"Ava, sweetheart. Did you have a good birthday?" he asked, his voice a low, warm rumble.

"The best," I managed, taking a step closer. "But there's one more thing I want."

His eyebrows lifted in question. "Anything. You know that."

I took a deep breath, the air catching in my throat. "I want you, Ethan. Not as a guardian. Not as a father figure. I'm in love with you."

The words hung in the air, heavy and fragile. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a chilling stillness. He set his glass down on the polished mahogany desk with a sharp, definitive click. The smile was gone, his face a mask of cold disappointment.

"Ava, don't be ridiculous," he said, his tone sharp and dismissive. It cut deeper than any knife. "You're my ward. You're a child."

"I'm not a child!" I protested, my voice trembling. "I'm twenty-two. I'm a woman, and I know what I feel."

"What you feel is a schoolgirl crush, a fantasy," he snapped, his voice rising. "I am nearly twice your age. I raised you. I changed your diapers, for God's sake. To even think of me that way is... inappropriate. It's wrong."

Each word was a blow, shattering the fantasy I had clung to for years. My mind flashed back to a different time, a different Ethan. I saw him kneeling in front of me after my parents' funeral, his face full of sorrow as he promised to always take care of me. I remembered him cheering the loudest at my high school graduation, his pride a beacon in the crowd. He was my rock, my safe harbor. Now, he was the storm.

He saw the hurt in my eyes and his expression hardened further, as if my pain was an inconvenience to him.

"I think it's time you understood the reality of our situation," he said coolly. He walked to the door and opened it. "Brittany, could you come in for a moment?"

A woman I had seen briefly at the party appeared in the doorway. Brittany Lane. A social media star with a million-dollar smile and eyes that assessed me with a flicker of triumphant malice. She slid her arm through Ethan's, her body pressing against his possessively.

"Ava," Ethan said, his voice void of all its previous warmth. "This is my fiancée, Brittany. We're getting married."

Fiancée. The word echoed in the silent room, mocking me.

Brittany' s smile widened. "It's so lovely to finally meet you properly, Ava. Ethan talks about you all the time. Like a daughter." She emphasized the last word, a sweet, poisonous dart.

The humiliation was a physical thing, a hot flush that spread up my neck. But Ethan wasn't finished.

"Brittany will be moving in next week," he continued, not even looking at me. He was talking to Brittany now, his voice softening for her. "And honey, I was thinking... your room has the best morning light. It would be perfect for your photo shoots and videos. I'm sure Ava won't mind moving to one of the guest suites."

He didn' t ask me. He told me. My room, the one he had designed for me when I first arrived, my sanctuary filled with memories and sketches for my jewelry designs, was being given away. Just like that. I was being displaced, erased.

I felt nothing and everything all at once. A strange, hollow calm settled over me. I looked from his cold, determined face to her smug, victorious one.

"Of course," I heard myself say, my voice sounding distant and flat. "I don't mind."

I turned and walked out of the study, not waiting for a dismissal. I walked up the grand staircase, past the portraits of his ancestors, and into my room. For a moment, I just stood there, looking at the life I thought was mine. Then, a cold resolve took hold.

I pulled a suitcase from the back of my closet and began to pack, my movements robotic. I took my sketchbooks, my design tools, a few clothes. I left behind the dolls he' d bought me, the framed photos of us, the entire childhood he had curated for me.

I sat on the edge of my bed and pulled out my phone. I scrolled through my contacts to a name I had saved a month ago after a brief, formal introduction at a tech conference. Liam Hayes. A wealthy, enigmatic entrepreneur who had made a strange, almost joking proposal.

My fingers trembled as I typed the message.

'Mr. Hayes, it's Ava Miller. Is your offer for a contract marriage still on the table? I'm ready.'

I hit send before I could second-guess myself. The 'delivered' notification appeared almost instantly. I was done waiting for a life with Ethan. It was time to build my own.