Chapter 1

The first thing I thought when I saw Julian Croft after six years was, "I hope he's miserable."

It was a petty thought, unworthy of the life I had built, but it was honest.

Here, at a charity gala in a glittering Manhattan ballroom, I was not the girl he'd thrown away. I was Elara, head designer of the Oregon Weavers Collective, a respected artist, and a wife. My husband, Kael, was somewhere in the crowd, closing a deal that would fund our community's expansion for the next decade. Our son, Rowan, was safely with his nanny. My life was full. It was solid.

Then I saw him.

He stood near the bar, holding a glass of whiskey, looking exactly the same. The same tailored suit, the same air of old-money confidence, the same pious look he wore like a shield. He hadn't seen me yet.

The whispers started almost immediately, a low hum that spread through the room.

"Is that Elara? The one from the Croft scandal?"

"I thought she disappeared. She looks... different."

"She was obsessed with him. It was a total train wreck."

I felt a familiar tightness in my chest, the ghost of an old shame. I took a steadying breath, the scent of expensive perfume and champagne filling my lungs. I was not that girl anymore.

Julian finally turned, his eyes scanning the room, and then they locked on me. A slow, arrogant smile spread across his face. He set his drink down and walked toward me, parting the crowd like a ship through water. His best friend, Marcus, trailed behind him, looking uneasy.

He stopped a foot in front of me, his gaze sweeping over my dress, a design of my own creation. It was a look I knew well, one of dismissal.

"Well, well," he said, his voice a low drawl. "Look what the cat dragged in. I always knew you'd come crawling back to New York."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He opened it. Inside was a vintage Cartier ring, the one I had cried over, begged for, six years ago.

He held it out, not to me, but above the polished floor. Then, he let it drop.

The ring clattered at my feet, the diamond winking under the chandelier light.

"There," Julian said, his voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "I'll take you back. Just pick it up."

Marcus put a hand on his arm. "Julian, don't do this."

Julian shook him off, his eyes fixed on me, waiting. He was so sure of himself, so certain that I was still the broken girl he had left behind.

I looked down at the ring, then back up at his smug face.

I smiled, a calm, genuine smile.

"No, thank you, Julian," I said, my voice clear and steady. "We were done six years ago. You were the one who ended it, remember?"

The shock on his face was immediate and profound. It was more satisfying than I could have ever imagined.