Chapter 2

Ember walked back to the penthouse she had once considered home. It felt cold and empty, a museum of a life that was never really hers.

Julian wasn' t there. A text message glowed on her phone: "Estelle had a panic attack. Staying with her tonight to make sure she' s okay. See you tomorrow."

She didn' t reply. Instead, she opened Instagram. Estelle had already posted a photo. A close-up of two champagne glasses, with the opulent background of a Plaza suite unmistakable. The caption read: "Some people just know how to take care of you. #RealLove."

Ember stared at the screen, a bitter smile twisting her lips. She had spent four years taking care of him, and this was her reward.

A sudden, fierce energy surged through her. She wouldn't be a victim. She wouldn't be a ghost in her own life.

She started in the bedroom. She pulled Julian' s expensive, tailored suits from the closet, tossing them onto the floor. His cologne bottles, his watch collection, his photos-everything went into trash bags. She worked with a methodical fury, cleansing the space of his presence. Each item she discarded was a chain she was breaking.

By the time the sun rose, the apartment was bare. All traces of Julian Copeland were gone.

He walked in just after nine a.m., holding a box of pastries as a pathetic peace offering. He stopped dead in the living room, his eyes wide with shock.

"Ember? What... what happened here?"

He looked around, his confusion genuine. He truly didn' t understand.

"I was redecorating," she said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.

He forced a laugh, trying to brush off the strange tension. "Okay... well, I guess we needed a change. We can go shopping this weekend. I' ll buy you anything you want."

He thought he could fix this with money. He thought a new sofa could patch the gaping hole he' d torn in her life.

"Julian," she said, her voice steady. "We need to talk about Estelle."

He stiffened, his easy smile vanishing. "There' s nothing to talk about. I told you, she' s just a friend. She needed my help."

"And you' ll be getting married," he added quickly, as if the words were a magic spell that could make everything right. "Our wedding is in three weeks. Everything is set."

She just stared at him, the silence stretching between them. He couldn' t meet her eyes.

"My family is hosting a gala tonight," he said, changing the subject. "You have to be there. We have to present a united front."

She didn' t want to go. She wanted to lock the door and never see any of them again. But she knew a public scene now would only make things worse.

"Fine," she agreed.

The gala was a nightmare of glittering chandeliers and fake smiles. As soon as they arrived, Julian was swallowed by a sea of business associates. Ember was left alone, an outcast in a world she never fit into. The other women, all from "old money" families, looked through her, their eyes catching on the faint lines of her scars.

She found a quiet corner on a balcony overlooking the city. She needed air.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

Ember turned. Julian' s younger sister, Jeanette, stood there, a cruel smirk on her face. Estelle was right behind her, a shadow in silk.

"Shouldn' t you be at home, polishing my brother' s shoes?" Jeanette sneered. "Or is that too much for your scarred hands?"

Estelle placed a gentle hand on Jeanette' s arm. "Jeannie, don' t be mean. Ember is our guest." Her voice was sweet, but her eyes were cold.

"Guest? She' s a glorified nurse who trapped my brother," Jeanette spat, her voice rising. People were starting to turn and look. "She' s nothing but a gold-digger with a new-money background. She doesn' t belong here."

Estelle sighed dramatically. "It' s true that Julian deserves someone... whole. Someone from his own world. But he made a promise. He' s a man of his word."

Each word was a carefully aimed dart.

Jeanette, egged on by Estelle' s performance, took a step closer. "My brother feels sorry for you. That' s all it is. Pity. Do you really think anyone could love a monster like you?"

Before Ember could react, Jeanette' s hand shot out. She grabbed the high collar of Ember' s dress and ripped it down.

The fabric tore with a sickening sound. The full extent of her scars on her neck and shoulder was suddenly exposed under the harsh lights of the ballroom.

A collective gasp went through the crowd. People stared, their faces a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity. Whispers spread like wildfire.

Humiliation washed over Ember, hot and suffocating.

Jeanette wasn' t done. She reached out again, as if to point at the scars. "See? This is what she is!"

Something inside Ember snapped. She moved on pure instinct, her hand swinging up and connecting with Jeanette' s cheek in a loud, sharp slap.

The room fell silent. Jeanette stood frozen, her hand on her red cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Estelle gasped, rushing forward. "Oh my god, Ember! How could you?" In her manufactured haste, she "tripped," falling to the ground in a heap of silk and feigned pain. "My ankle!" she cried out.

That' s when Julian appeared. He took in the scene in a single glance: Ember standing over a crying Estelle, and his sister holding her cheek. He didn' t hesitate.

He moved toward Estelle, his face a mask of fury. He shoved past Ember, knocking her off balance. She stumbled back, hitting the balcony railing hard. He didn' t even look at her.

"Stel! Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice full of frantic concern.

Jeanette, seeing her opportunity, started wailing. "Brother, she attacked me! And she pushed Estelle! She' s crazy!"

Julian gently lifted Estelle into his arms, cradling her as if she were made of glass. He turned, his eyes finally landing on Ember. They were cold, full of accusation and disappointment.

He didn' t say a word to her. He just turned and carried Estelle away, leaving Ember alone in the center of the silent, staring crowd.