Prologue - Eilidh

Eilidh (AY-lee) MacLeod POV

People love a rags to riches story. Unfortunately for Cole, he married the wrong girl for that.

I wasn’t some small town nobody clawing my way into Hollywood. I was born into more money than most people can even imagine, to one of the most powerful families in Scotland. Old money. Empire money. The kind of wealth where people don’t ask how much, they ask how many countries.

I made my first million before I could legally drive, acting in plays, television, and films while other kids were worried about acne and algebra. My parents invested every penny, and by the time I turned eighteen, the interest alone could’ve kept me in champagne and private jets for the rest of my life. But that wasn’t the point. I didn’t want to be “the MacLeod heiress.” I wanted to earn my success, really earn it. Plus my parents were fucking AWFUL.

So I packed my bags, ditched my name, and moved to America. I enrolled at the California Institute of the Arts under a false identity, telling everyone I was just Ellie Mac, a broke Scottish student with big dreams and a thick accent. I wanted to blend in, to be judged on my talent, not my bank account.

That’s where I met Cole Harrington.

Tall, too handsome for his own good, charming and broke. A struggling actor who could talk his way into any room and make you feel like you’d known him your whole life. He didn’t know who I really was. I didn’t tell him. We met junior year and fell stupid fast, the whirlwind, head over heels, “I’ll die for you” kind of love.

By the time we graduated, I was landing decent acting gigs and had scored a dance solo in a massive stage production. Cole… was still auditioning. Still waiting tables. Still chasing a break that felt forever out of reach. I never cared about the money, but I could feel the way he noticed the difference between us. That creeping resentment.

I stayed loyal. I supported him. I introduced him to people who could help him. I pushed him to keep going. I used all my connections to help him succeed.

On my twenty-fourth birthday, he threw me a surprise party with all of our college friends and got down on one knee. I said yes, of course I said yes. I was in love with him. A year later, we were married on a quiet California beach, barefoot in the sand. I thought I was marrying my best friend.

We moved into a beautiful apartment. I worked, he hustled, and eventually, with my help and a few well placed introductions, he landed the role of a lifetime, the lead in a massive superhero movie. It was everything he’d ever wanted, and I was so damn proud of him.

But somewhere between the call sheets and the red carpets, I lost my husband. The man I loved started staying out late, coming home smelling of whiskey and perfume. He was always “networking,” always “busy.” I told myself it was the job. The pressure. The fame.

Then one night, my parents called. We hadn’t spoken in years, not since I’d left for the States. They wanted to meet my husband. They wanted me to come home. I bought the plane tickets right then, even though I despised my parents.

When I told Cole, he exploded. Said he didn’t have the time, that his career was just taking off, that my family could wait. We fought, him screaming until his face twisted into something I didn’t recognize. He hurled a wine glass against the wall so hard it shattered into glittering dust. I screamed at him to get out.

He left without another word. I stood crying in the wreckage of my living room, wondering how the hell we’d gotten here.

The next night, my best friend Catriona dragged me out for drinks. We laughed, we danced, and I let myself forget for a moment. The morning after, I woke up with a headache and a plan. I was going to fight for my marriage.

I put on a red dress and heels that could kill a man, painted on my lipstick like war paint, and walked into his studio ready to remind my husband why he’d married me. Instead, I found him naked, balls deep in his bimbo Russian co-star up against the wall of his dressing room.

She screamed when she saw me, like I was the intruder. He didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. I laughed...loud, sharp and bitter....because what else was there to do?

“After all these years,” I said, my voice steady even as my heart cracked, “after everything I did tae help ye launch yer career...”

He cut me off with a smirk. “I got here on my own merit. You had nothing to do with it, cunt.”

I smiled then. Slow and dangerous. “If that’s how ye feel…”

I took off my wedding ring, set it on his desk, and walked out. He and his little starlet were still laughing when the door closed behind me.

But they won’t be laughing for long.