Chapter 1

1.

In the elite circles of New York, everyone said Julian Vance was born for Ava Mitchell.

He was obsessed with her.

That’s why he proposed the very day he turned 25, the legal age to inherit his full fortune.

Yet, this was the same man who stood her up nine times on their way to City Hall to get a marriage license.

The first time, he changed the date at the last minute to fly Claire Morgan to Orlando for the Disney fireworks show.

The second time, he flew straight to St. Barts because Claire mentioned offhandedly on the phone, "I want to see the ocean."

The third time, they had just parked at City Hall when he got a call. Claire had acute appendicitis and was undergoing an emergency appendectomy at Mount Sinai.

Each time, he would stroke Ava's hair, his voice dripping with that gentle tone she could never resist. "Baby, try to let it go. She's Ethan's sister, you know? I promised him I'd take care of her while he's in London."

The ninth time, Ava waited at City Hall until it closed. He never showed up.

She walked home in the cold Manhattan autumn rain, soaked to the bone. In the study, tucked away in a drawer, she found it: Julian and Claire’s marriage certificate.

Ava slammed the small booklet onto the coffee table. Her voice, trembling with a mix of rage and cold, was sharp. "Care to explain this?"

Julian looked up from a stack of documents, rubbing his temples with his long, elegant fingers. He looked exhausted. "Listen, it's just a legal thing. I didn't want you to worry about something so unimportant."

"Claire's trust fund has a clause. She has to be married before 25 to inherit her full share. She was crying her eyes out, so I agreed. It’s just a formality. As soon as the money is transferred, I’ll divorce her, and then we’ll get married, okay?"

Ava’s chest tightened. Pain, despair, and devastation spread from her heart through her entire body, making it hard to breathe.

She wanted to scream at him. What did he take her for?

She wanted to ask him if he knew that his nine broken promises had made her the laughingstock of the entire Upper East Side. She wanted to ask if he remembered the vows he made when he proposed at the Central Park Boathouse. She wanted to ask him if he remembered the sixteen-year-old Julian on the Brooklyn Bridge, who swore he would never let her suffer even the slightest bit of pain.

But in the end, she just laughed. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.

"Forget it. I wish you both happiness."

Julian's expression changed instantly. He reached out to wipe her tears, his tone laced with annoyance. "Don't be stupid. I love you. Claire is like a sister to me. Why would I ever want to be with her forever?"

Just then, his phone rang, shattering the moment.

Julian glanced at the screen and answered immediately. "Claire? What's wrong?"

Whatever was said on the other end made him chuckle, his voice softening. "Okay, okay, I'm on my way."

He hung up, grabbed his car keys, and rushed out, leaving the living room in dead silence.

Ava’s hand trembled as she picked up the marriage certificate. The official document felt like it was burning her fingertips.

She and Julian had grown up together in the wealthy enclaves of Long Island, the picture-perfect childhood sweethearts. Everyone knew how much Julian spoiled her.

He would gently carry her to bed when she fell asleep working on her design drafts. He would blush while running all over CVS to buy her pads when she got her first period.

For her eighteenth birthday, he rented out the Ferris wheel at Coney Island just for her. His phone’s photo album was filled with nothing but pictures of her.

Their friends used to tease him about being whipped. He’d just raise an eyebrow proudly. "What can I do? It’s my duty to go all out for my girl."

That all changed a year ago, when Julian's best friend and Claire's brother, Ethan Morgan, moved to London to expand his family's business. Julian had promised to look after Claire.

Ava never imagined that "looking after her" meant becoming her legal husband.

Her phone vibrated.

Numbly, she picked it up. It was a text from her best friend, Sophie. "Ava, everyone's talking about how Julian stood you up again... The things they're saying are horrible. Don't listen to them..."

Ava’s body trembled.

That's right. She was the joke of New York's social scene, and the man who swore to protect her for life was currently busy comforting another girl.

Fine.

If he didn't want to get a marriage license with her, she'd find someone else!

Ava scrolled through her contacts, her finger finally stopping on one name: "Ethan Morgan."

She remembered the last time she saw him.

It was at the party celebrating her engagement to Julian. She’d had too much to drink and was resting on a terrace sofa. In a hazy state, she felt someone kissing her. She thought it was Julian, but when she opened her eyes, she was met with Ethan’s, which were as deep as the ocean.

The next day, Ethan flew to London without a word of explanation.

Taking a deep breath, Ava dialed his number.

If Claire stole her fiancé, then as her brother, Ethan damn well owed her.

The call was answered almost instantly, but no one spoke. Only the sound of silent breathing came through the line.

"Ethan, you kissed me a year ago," Ava finally said, her voice steady. "Aren't you going to take responsibility for that?"

There was a pause. Ethan's voice, when it came, was deep and hoarse, with a hint of nervousness he couldn't hide. "What do you want me to do?"

"Marry me!" Ava clutched her phone tighter. "Don't ask why. Just tell me if you'll do it."