Chapter 1

"No."

The word was quiet, but it landed in the middle of the Miller family living room like a stone.

My mother, Helen, stopped fluffing the throw pillows on the sofa. Her hand froze mid-air. "Chloe, what did you say?"

My father, Richard, lowered his newspaper, the crinkle of the pages loud in the sudden silence. "Don' t be difficult, honey. Ethan is a good man. The Blacks are a good family."

"I said no," I repeated, my voice a little stronger this time. "I' m not marrying Ethan."

My mother' s face went pale. She rushed over, her hands fluttering nervously. "But the invitations... the venue... everything is set. Your birthday is in two months. You know what that means."

She didn' t have to say it. The Miller Curse. It wasn' t something we talked about with outsiders, but within our family, it was as real as the floorboards beneath our feet. For generations, the women in our family line had a rule, a superstition that had become a hard truth: marry by thirty, or face ruin.

My mother grabbed my hands. They were cold. "Chloe, think about your Aunt Evelyn."

Aunt Evelyn. Her name was a ghost in our house. She was a brilliant painter, a genius with a brush. Her early work was vibrant, full of life. But she never married. On her thirtieth birthday, she was celebrated as a rising star in the art world. By thirty-one, she couldn' t paint anymore. A creative block, the critics said. But we knew.

I remembered visiting her as a child. She lived in a dusty apartment that smelled of turpentine and despair. Her canvases were all blank, just white squares staring at the walls. Her eyes, once so bright, were empty. She' d lost everything. Her career, her spark, her mind. The family said the curse took it all.

"That' s a superstition, Mom. It' s not real."

"It was real for Evelyn!" my father' s voice boomed. "It was real for your great-aunt Susan, who lost her business. Do you want to be next? A talented architect with no career, just like your aunt with her blank canvases?"

The deadline was my thirtieth birthday. Two months away. The pressure was a physical weight on my chest, heavy and constant.

My mother' s eyes filled with tears. She pulled me into a hug, her voice now a desperate whisper. "We' re not doing this because we' re cruel, Chloe. We' re doing this because we love you. We can' t bear to see you end up like Evelyn. We just want you to be safe and happy."

I hugged her back, feeling a pang of guilt. I knew they loved me. But they didn' t know the whole story.

They didn' t know about Ethan.

Ethan Black. My childhood sweetheart. The boy next door who became the man I was supposed to spend my life with. I remembered summers spent building forts in his backyard, his easy laugh, the way he' d always save the last cookie for me. He was everyone' s golden boy, and he had chosen me. For years, that felt like enough. He was charming, handsome, and on his way to being a tech mogul, taking over his family' s successful business. It was a perfect picture.

He' d always told me he loved me more than anyone. He said I was the only one who understood him, the only one he could imagine a future with. The perfect words, the perfect promises.

But promises change.

He kept pushing the wedding date. "Next year, Chloe, when the new software launches." Then it was, "After the merger, I promise." The excuses piled up, and a small, cold knot of doubt began to form in my stomach.

Then came Sarah Jenkins.

She was my intern, fresh out of college, eager and bright. I saw myself in her, that same ambition. I mentored her, taught her everything I could, and when a position opened up at Ethan' s company, I recommended her myself. I thought I was helping her.

"Are you sure about this, Chloe?" Ethan had asked, looking over her resume. "She seems a little... young."

"She' s a hard worker, Ethan. Give her a chance. For me."

He' d smiled that charming smile and agreed. "Anything for you."

Sarah was perfect at first. She was grateful, always bringing me coffee, asking for advice. "You and Mr. Black are the perfect couple," she' d say, her eyes wide with admiration. "I hope I can find a love like yours someday."

It was all a lie.

The rumors started a few months ago. Whispers in the office. A colleague mentioning they saw Ethan and Sarah having a late dinner, looking a little too close. I tried to ignore it. I trusted him. I trusted her.

I finally brought it up, gently. "Ethan, people are talking. Maybe you should keep a professional distance from Sarah."

His reaction was immediate and angry. "What are you implying, Chloe? That I' d be interested in an intern? You' re being paranoid."

Then came the company party. I had to work late on a project deadline and arrived just as things were winding down. I saw Sarah in a corner, crying. A few of her friends were comforting her. When she saw me, she ran over, her face a mask of sorrow.

"Chloe, I' m so sorry," she sobbed. "People are saying terrible things about me and Mr. Black. They' re saying I' m trying to break you up. I would never! I told him he needs to be careful, for your sake!"

Before I could respond, Ethan stormed over. His face was dark with fury.

He didn' t look at Sarah. He looked at me. "What did you say to her?" he demanded. "I can' t believe you. Harassing my employee, making her cry. You' re being possessive and emotional."

I stood there, stunned into silence. He was humiliating me. In front of everyone.

He then softened his expression, turning to Sarah. He placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. "It' s okay, Sarah. I' ll handle this. Some people are just... insecure."

He guided her away, his arm wrapped securely around her, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the room. The whispers were no longer whispers. They were a roar. I could feel dozens of eyes on me, a mix of pity and scorn.

My world tilted on its axis. The man I had loved my whole life had just publicly chosen another woman over me.

He had chosen my intern. The girl I had mentored.

The betrayal was a physical shock, leaving me breathless. That was the moment I knew. It wasn't just a rumor. It was real. And my perfect picture was shattered into a million pieces.