Chapter 2

The next morning, Wesley was already dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, smelling of expensive cologne.

"Maddy, I need you to go pick out your dress for the party today. Get something nice, something that says 'future of Austin'."

He didn't look at me, just adjusted his tie in the mirror.

"Aren't you coming with me?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Can't. I have to go pick up Gabrielle from the airport. Her family is throwing her a 'welcome home' dinner tonight, and it's critical that I'm there. Political allies, you know."

He finally turned to me, his expression serious.

"And you need to be there too. It's important we show everyone there are no hard feelings about the condo thing. A united front."

He didn't ask, he commanded. For eleven years, I would have swallowed my pain and agreed. I would have put on a brave face and played the part of the understanding fiancée.

Today, I just nodded. "Of course, Wesley. A united front."

The moment he walked out the door, I picked up my phone. My hands were steady. I scrolled to a number I rarely called, the one I kept for true emergencies.

My grandfather.

He answered on the first ring, his voice a familiar, gravelly boom that always felt like home.

"Maddy-girl. What's wrong?"

He didn't do small talk. He never had.

"Grandpa," I said, my voice clear and firm. "That boutique architectural firm you own in town. I want it."

There was a brief silence on the line. I could picture him, sitting in his vast study, surrounded by maps of oil fields, his shrewd eyes narrowing. He'd always hated Wesley, seeing the entitlement and manipulation I had chosen to ignore. He never said "I told you so," but he didn't have to.

"It's yours," he said, no questions asked. "The lawyers will have the paperwork ready by tomorrow. Welcome home, Maddy."

I hung up, a wave of relief so powerful it almost buckled my knees. I had a path. My own path.

I started packing. Not just a few things, but everything. My design books, my sketches, the few pieces of furniture that were actually mine. I was in the middle of taking down a print from the wall when the doorbell rang.

It was the building manager, a cheerful man named Dave.

"Afternoon!" he said. "Just here for the pre-scheduled walkthrough. Ms. Cullen wanted to make sure everything was in order before she moved her things in."

I froze, my hand still on the picture frame.

"Ms. Cullen?"

"Yeah," he said, consulting his clipboard. "Gabrielle Cullen. She's listed here as the co-owner and primary contact for the HOA. Said her fiancé's... friend... was staying here temporarily, but she'd be taking over full-time. That's you, right? The friend?"

The world tilted on its axis. I wasn't just living in an apartment Wesley provided. I was living in a home co-owned by my fiancé and his childhood sweetheart. I was the temporary guest. The placeholder.

The humiliation was a physical blow. I stumbled back, catching myself on the wall. Dave looked at me, his cheerful expression turning to one of concern.

"Ma'am? Are you okay?"

I couldn't speak. I just nodded, a lie. Nothing was okay.