Chapter 1

1.

I had already decided to dump my ambitious lawyer boyfriend, and he was completely clueless.

He promised we’d get married the second he made partner at his firm.

For that promise, I hid my identity as the Sinclair family heiress and wasted nearly five years with him in a shitty apartment in Queens.

But on the day we were supposed to go to City Hall, as I stood there all dressed up, I watched Liam Donovan lean down and kiss a woman in a wedding dress.

I pulled out my phone and saw the Instagram he had just posted―a photo of him and his childhood friend, Brielle Vance, holding a marriage certificate.

The caption read: "It's official. Congrats to us, everyone!"

I typed "Congrats" in the comments, then called my parents for the first time in nearly five years.

"Mom, Dad, I'm done. Liam and I are over."

...

After the call, I went back to the apartment we shared.

I tossed my things into suitcases. As for the furniture and appliances I couldn’t take, I smashed them to pieces.

I had bought most of Liam’s things.

He graduated from a second-rate law school, and his relentless drive was what initially attracted me―he was determined to break into the elite circles on his own merit.

To avoid wounding his pathetic pride, I kept my Sinclair background a secret and moved into this rental in Queens five years ago.

I surveyed the wreckage, then called a moving company to haul all my things away.

Next, I contacted the property manager of my building in midtown Manhattan and told him to get in touch with the buyers who had previously made offers.

The building was in a prime location in the financial district. I had bought it at a premium, intending to give it to Liam as a gift to start his own law firm. The interior renovations were almost complete.

Liam didn't want to work with partners or for someone else forever.

To avoid pressuring him, I bought the building without his knowledge and paid for the renovations, planning to surprise him after he made partner.

I was even so afraid of embarrassing him that I told him I had "pulled some strings" to "rent" the space for him at an incredibly low price as a temporary office.

Now that it was all over, I didn't need to protect his fragile ego anymore.

I told the property manager to have the crew rip out all the interior work. I’d pay them double.

And the high-end office equipment that hadn't been installed yet? Donate it all to charity.

I had just caught my breath and was about to leave when Liam came home.

He froze in the doorway, his hand on the knob.

"What the fuck happened here?"

I shrugged, my voice casual.

"I did it."

Liam's face darkened instantly, and he snapped, "Chloe, what is your fucking problem? And I've been texting you all day, why didn't you answer?"

It was always like this. It was his fault, but his words always dripped with righteous accusation.

"Answer what? Should I have congratulated you on your new baby?"

"Liam, let's just call these five years a very expensive lesson. You chose to marry someone else, so from now on, there's nothing between us. Good luck."

I tried to walk past him, but he chased after me and blocked the door.

"Chloe, can you just calm down for a second? I've explained this to you a million times―Brielle is my best friend. Today was meant to be a surprise for you, a grand gesture, that's all."

"That Instagram post was a joke, and the marriage certificate was fake, just a prop. Chloe, do you have to overreact like this?"

I stared at him and couldn't help but laugh.

The temperature had dropped today. When Brielle shivered, he immediately took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders, even wrapping the scarf I gave him around her neck.

I just watched, my heart aching. In five years, Liam had never once been that considerate to me.

I glanced at my watch and said, half-joking, "If that's the case, City Hall closes in half an hour. Let's go right now, how about it?"

A flicker of unease crossed Liam's eyes. He gently tugged at my sleeve, his voice low and coaxing.

"Chloe, getting registered at City Hall in New York is so lame. It's like waiting in line at the DMV, there's no feeling. Didn't you always want to go to Paris? Why don't we just fly there for our honeymoon? That would be romantic."

"As soon as I win one more big case, we'll have the money to go. By the way, doesn't your boss have that multi-million dollar case? You could put in a good word for me..."

No matter how well-mannered I was, at this moment, I saw him for what he was: a hopeless fucking idiot.

Just a moment ago, I was scrolling through TikTok in the living room when the algorithm served me Brielle’s new video.

It was filled with clips of Parisian streets.

The caption read: "Countdown to my honeymoon in Paris with my fiancé ??"

To get that big case from me, Liam was dangling my dream city as bait.

His real plan was to earn that massive legal fee and take Brielle to Paris.

I let out a cold laugh, violently shaking his hand off and striding towards the door.

Liam yelled from behind me, "Chloe! I'm talking to you! I already promised to take you to Paris, what more do you want?"

I walked out the door, his voice still chasing me.

"If you walk out that door today, don't you dare expect me to come back for you!"

I smirked. All these years, he used my love for him to take and take, pushing me to give in again and again.

And I was stupid enough to think it was because he cared about me.

I stopped, turned around, and yelled with all my strength.

"Liam Donovan, we are completely and utterly done!"

Then, I walked away without looking back.

My phone buzzed. It was a notification that the deposit from the new buyer of the office building had arrived.

I looked at the long string of zeros added to my bank account and immediately hailed a cab to a top-tier spa on Fifth Avenue.

For five years, I had suppressed everything to fit his "started from the bottom" narrative―my identity, my spending habits, my contact with my family, everything.

But just as I stepped out of the spa, I got a frantic call from the property manager.

"Ms. Sinclair, can you come over right now? There's a woman here with a group of people causing a scene in your building, and she's live-streaming it!"

My heart sank. It had to be Brielle.

She was a local New York influencer with a decent following; live-streaming was her whole career.

After confirming it was her, I rushed over.

The property manager met me as I got out of the car in front of the building.

"Ms. Sinclair, thank God you're here!

The buyer brought their design team for measurements today, but they were blocked by that woman and her crew.

She was holding up her phone, live-streaming, and yelling that if anyone dared to touch anything in 'their law firm,'

she'd make sure they'd be ruined in New York's social scene.

The buyer got pissed and left on the spot, saying the property has a title dispute and demanding his deposit back!"

I frowned. "Didn't I tell you to handle it with the deed and my power of attorney?"

The manager looked helpless.

"Ms. Sinclair, I showed them a copy of the deed right away, but the woman didn't even look at it.

In front of thousands of viewers on her stream,

she accused me of forging documents and then ripped it to shreds!"