Chapter One :Ten Years of Scrap

"Are you done packing? Either you step out of this apartment quietly or I'll have security escort you out. Make your choice, Sloane."

My boyfriend’s icy voice reeled into my ears. I looked at him from under my lashes, mouth agape.

Ten long years. Gone in less than ten seconds.

Right in front of me was a half-zipped designer suitcase. Scattered around it were the remnants of a decade spent building a life around a man who never truly saw me.

In my moments of ultimate devotion, I had enthusiastically given up my own dreams to save his.

After college, when Finn had nearly crashed his first major corporate venture because of sheer negligence, I was the one who stayed up for seventy-two hours straight, rewriting his business proposals from scratch so he wouldn't look like a failure in front of his father, Knox Hartley.

Finn, my boyfriend, had taken all the credit while I smiled quietly from the shadows.

"Sloane, my father expects perfection from me. If I tell him you did the work, he'll think I'm weak. Just be patient. I'm sure once I secure the vice presidency, we can finally announce our engagement."

He never did.

And as I stood there watching him pack, I felt the phantom ache of all the holidays I had spent alone. The anniversaries he forgot. The cold, empty bed I slept in while he was out "networking" with the very woman he was now leaving me for.

His past flame had returned to the country a week ago. She hadn't even been back for twenty-four hours before Finn personally went to her hotel, a smug, eager smile smeared across his face.

He didn't even try to hide the text message she sent him when she landed.

It read:

I’m back, Finn. Come take me home.

Droplets of salty tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I gripped onto the canopy of denial, refusing to let them fall in front of him.

"Finn... you wouldn't... not after ten years..."

Finn interrupted me by scoffing in my face, then he slipped out his phone from his tailored trousers and tossed it onto the bed.

The gallery was open, my eyes gliding over to the digital album that read:

My Real Home.

I swiped over from one picture to the next. His ex was in all of them, wrapped in Finn's arms with the biggest smiles plastered on both of their faces. They had been secretly meeting for days.

Each new picture created a fresh fracture in my heart.

While I was here, literally managing his schedules, making sure his dry cleaning was done, and keeping his chaotic life together, he was out having the time of his life.

A hot, bitter lump formed in my throat. My fingers were trembling so much I had to press them against the vanity table to keep from shaking.

"How could you?" I whispered pathetically as he reached over to snatch his phone back.

"How could I?"

He threw the question back at me with a mocking curve of his eyebrow.

"I was here, Finn! After she left you broken and broke in college, I was the one who stayed and picked up the pieces and fixed everything! I didn't do all of that for you to just throw me away the second she decided she wanted you back!"

I seethed at him.

"Oh Sloane, why are you blaming me? I never asked you to play the martyr, but that seems to be a bad habit of yours," he said, and then his phone began to vibrate. He picked it up and placed it on speaker, entirely for my benefit.

"Finn, babe? Are you almost done clearing out the extra weight? The reservations at the rooftop lounge are for eight, and I hate waiting."

My chest was tight.

I could hardly breathe. Without a doubt in the world, that was her voice.

I may not have been his first love, but I was there for everything—the sleepless nights when he panicked about his family's high expectations, the corporate disasters I quietly swept under the rug, all while he got a full night's rest knowing Sloane would handle it.

"Sweetie, I'm just finishing up now," Finn spoke into the phone, his tone instantly softening into a warmth he hadn't given me in years. "Sloane is just... throwing a bit of a tantrum. Go ahead to the restaurant, I'll meet you there."

He ended the call and looked at me, completely detached.

"Look, if you need a place to go cry and cool your head, go stay at the Hartley family's private estate. Nobody is using it right now. Just pack your things and go before I get back. Don't make this ugly, Sloane."

He was right about one thing—I was leaving.

Up until this very moment, the really pathetic thing about me was that I had loved him so much that I probably would have forgiven him if he had just given me a crumb of affection. I would have kept hiding in his shadow, enduring the neglect.

But looking at his cold, ungrateful face, a switch flipped inside me. I promised myself that if I walked out this door, I would live vicariously and selfishly from now on.

I crossed my shapely legs, leaning back against the edge of the armchair.

"Sorry, on second thoughts, I won't be staying in a corner waiting for you to call," I told the man standing before me.

He groaned impatiently.

"Is this really the time to throw a tantrum, Sloane? You've always been the reasonable one, and—"

"Well, I'm allowed to change my mind, and that's exactly what I'm doing right now. Changing my mind." I grabbed the arm of the chair and pushed myself up to my feet, smoothing down my dress.

He saw me walking toward the door without a single tear, and his brow furrowed in sudden confusion. "Didn't you hear what I said? Go to the estate, clear your head, and maybe when I'm less busy next month, we can talk."

I rolled my eyes.

"I heard you the first time," I said, my voice completely smooth and dangerously calm as I grabbed my purse. "That's why I'm heading off to the estate tonight—to pull the curtains on this relationship permanently. Enjoy your dinner, Finn. You're officially on your own."