Chapter 1

1.

In three days, I was supposed to marry Julian, the man I’d loved for eleven years.

The whole city was buzzing about our wedding of the century, but instead of finalizing vows, I was staring at a wedding photo of him and another woman.

They sent the email together. A silent declaration of war.

The picture was taken in front of Boston City Hall.

The girl, Chloe Vance, was waving a marriage certificate, a triumphant smirk on her face.

But it wasn't the piece of paper that stung. It was the look in Julian’s eyes.

In all our eleven years together, he had never, not once, looked at me with that kind of devotion.

The body of the email was as cold as a business memo: "It's done. I'm back."

I printed the photo and confronted him. He was sprawled on a five-figure designer leather sofa, swirling a glass of single malt whiskey, his voice as calm as if he were discussing a corporate merger.

"Summer, don't look at me like that. You know the terms of my grandfather's will. If I don't marry a woman of a ‘pedigree approved by the Sterling family trust’ before I turn 30, I can't unlock my trust fund. We’re talking fifty million dollars, Summer. And voting rights in the company."

He took a sip, his entitlement hanging in the air. "Chloe fits the bill, and she needed the marriage for a tax break. It’s just a business deal. A piece of paper. You're getting the real wedding, the real me. What's a small sacrifice for our future?"

I flashed back to the day he proposed. I was such a fool, giddy with excitement, texting hundreds of people in my contacts, wanting the whole world to know.

Turns out, all I got was an empty promise called 'love,' while Chloe got the legally protected right to half of his fifty-million-dollar fortune.

Seeing my silence, he scowled, his tone dripping with the arrogance of the elite.

"Summer, don't be so naive. In our world, business ties are stronger than love. If you can't handle this, we can cancel the wedding. But think it through. Without me, you're nothing in this city."

I took a deep breath, my nails digging into my palms. The pain kept me grounded.

"I'll marry you."

The wedding would go on as planned. But it would be his one-man show. A beautifully orchestrated funeral for his reputation.

"Smart choice. Chloe’s flight lands at Logan today, I have to pick her up. There’s a welcome party for her tonight at a rooftop bar in Seaport. It's to show the board we're on good terms, you know, for PR."

Julian smirked, as if to say, I knew you'd bend for me.

He was so certain I'd never leave him.

And why wouldn't he be? For eleven years, I'd been the one chasing after him. I gave up a spot at Yale Law School, turned down a top offer on Wall Street, and even missed my grandmother's last moments in Seattle, all for him.

He was used to my sacrifices.

"Oh, and you need to show up at the party tonight. Chloe specifically asked for you. She said since we're all 'family' now, she'd love to catch up. I’ll send you the location after your dress fitting."

He adjusted the cuffs of his Savile Row suit in the mirror, glancing at me dismissively.

He and Chloe. They were the golden couple of Boston's Brahmin circle. When they played house as kids on Beacon Hill, they were the prince and princess. I was the girl who fetched their water.

If Chloe hadn't suddenly run off to Paris to be an 'artist,' I probably never would have had a chance.

But this time, I wasn't going to be his obedient little follower.

"I have plans tonight. I can't make it."

"You have plans?" Julian's smirk vanished. "What could you possibly have to do?"

"Packing my things..." to get the hell out of this place.

But he cut me off before I could finish.

"Summer Tate! Can you stop being such a fucking Drama Queen?"

"If you're going to lie, at least make it believable. You have to be there tonight. The board members will be there. I need to look like Chloe and I are friends, and I need you to look gracious. Don't be so petty."