Chapter 1

Backstage at the charity gala, the lights were dim.

I was just a temp on the logistics crew. I did not even have clearance to be anywhere near the main stage, but the supervisor said there was a cable jam back here and sent me into the shadows to sort it out.

That was when a familiar spasm shot through my lower back.

The pain knocked the breath out of me. My legs gave out, and I dropped to my knees. Cold sweat beaded across my forehead and dripped onto the backs of my hands.

I clenched my jaw and tried to ride it out.

That was exactly when Nicole Thatcher, the gala's charity ambassador, finished her speech and came offstage. She found me there on the ground, and the eyes that once looked at me with nothing but warmth were frozen solid now.

Before I could say a word, she wrenched the cap off her water bottle and splashed it across my face without a shred of mercy.

"Quinn Delaney, you've got some nerve showing your face in front of me."

I wiped my face and braced a hand against the floor, trying to push myself up. However, the pain in my back drained the last of my strength, and I fell right back down.

The commotion drew the attention of nearby guests, who stopped in their tracks to watch.

Nicole stared me down, the rims of her eyes reddening with anger.

"Ten years ago, you called me a burden, shoved divorce papers in my face, and walked out. You said you didn't want to waste the rest of your life on someone who was about to die.

"So what's this?"

She let out a cold laugh, her voice dripping with mockery. "Now that I survived, you come crawling back to play the victim?"

Every word landed like a blade. I opened my mouth, and the taste of blood rose thick in the back of my throat.

I looked at her, radiant and polished, and something in my chest quietly loosened with relief. She looked beautiful, nothing like the frail figure who lay in the ICU ten years ago, tubes running in and out of her body.

"Nicole, what's got you so worked up?" A smooth male voice cut in.

It was her current boyfriend, Julian Carmichael.

He wore a tailored white suit and draped an arm around Nicole's shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. He looked down at me, and something cold and vicious flickered behind his eyes before he smoothed it over with a look of pity.

"You must be Mr. Delaney." He tilted his head.

"I've heard about you. What brings you here, doing odd jobs?"

He sighed, pulled a few hundred-dollar bills from his pocket, and tossed them on the ground in front of me like I was a beggar on the street.

"Whatever you did back then, you two do have a history." He straightened up.

"Take this and go. Don't cause a scene. Nicole's way out of your league now."

Then he turned toward the security team, his voice rising a few notches. "Security, this gentleman isn't feeling well. Could you escort him out before he disturbs any of the guests?"

A few guards were on me in seconds, hauling me up by the arms. The rough handling sent a tearing pain through my lower back, so bad that my vision went black at the edges.

"Let go. I'll walk out on my own."

I did not pick up the money. I just looked at Nicole, long and steady.

She did not flinch. She turned away from my gaze, and the disgust in her eyes cut straight through me.