3

I pulled two all-nighters and turned in the profit model on time.

Marcus wrote back. My proposal had passed the initial review.

If I aced the in-person presentation, I'd become the project lead and earn a bonus equal to three percent of the profits.

I booked a train ticket to Southport for the day after tomorrow.

That evening, Nathan's parents came over.

Nathan's mother, Diane Cole, had barely stepped through the door before she took Ivy by the hand and gave her a necklace.

"Nathan's told me about you so many times. He really loves you."

I stiffened as bitterness welled up inside me.

Ivy happily took the necklace and put it on.

Diane had once said that necklace was meant for the woman Nathan loved.

So everyone knew about Nathan and Ivy. Everyone but me.

When Diane noticed me, she barely reacted.

"Oh. Ms. Whitman's here too?"

Nathan answered for me. "She has nowhere else to stay."

Diane pushed the black truffle steak that had just been served toward Ivy.

But Ivy slid the plate over to me, her voice sweet. "Claire's still recovering. She needs it more."

Nathan immediately put a hand on the plate and pushed it back to Ivy.

"She doesn't like beef."

I looked at him. "I do like it."

His hand stopped in midair.

Diane set down her wineglass and frowned at me.

"Ivy was kind enough to take you in, and you still have to compete with her over everything? It's one dish. Is it really worth all this?"

I smiled and pulled the whole plate of steak toward me.

"If it's just a plate of food, then you won't mind if I eat it all."

Diane's face soured. After a moment, she gave a mocking laugh, her voice quiet but every word clear. "Thank goodness Nathan's wife is Ivy. She's so gentle and sensible..."

Before she could finish, Nathan raised his voice. "Mom!"

But I knew exactly what she'd been about to say.

In Diane's eyes, I'd never been the right wife for Nathan.

Back then, though, Nathan had loved me with everything he had. She couldn't stand to break her son's heart, so she'd reluctantly accepted our marriage.

He'd stood up for me more than once before, so seeing him cut her off threw me for a second.

But a moment later, he shot me a cold look. "You've ruined a perfectly nice dinner. Happy now?"

My lips moved a few times, but in the end, nothing came out.

His love was gone, and so was his protection. Nothing I said would matter.

Halfway through dinner, Ivy stood up and "accidentally" knocked over a bowl of soup, sending it splashing toward her skirt.

Nathan yanked her out of the way, and the soup scalded my forearm instead.

He checked Ivy's ankle first. Only when he was sure she was fine did he notice my burn.

"There's burn cream in the kitchen. Take care of it yourself."

My arm throbbed until it went numb, but the hurt inside was worse.

I went to the bathroom to cool the burn under running water. That's when I heard cheers erupt from the living room.

Nathan had pulled out a velvet box. Inside was a diamond ring.

"The accident threw everything off. I promised you a wedding, and it's time I made good on that promise."

Ivy covered her mouth, crying, while Nathan's parents laughed and urged her to say yes.

That ring was the one Nathan and I had picked out together when we got engaged.

He looked at me as though he'd only just remembered I was there.

"Claire, Ivy and I are getting married. You've been doing better lately. It's time for you to move out."

My nails dug into my palms. "Have you set a date?"

Ivy said shyly, "Next Thursday. You'll come and give us your blessing, won't you?"

"I will."

I answered so quickly that Nathan stared at me for a few seconds, seemingly suspicious. Still, he said nothing.

The next day, Ivy took me to a wedding planner's studio to help her pick out tablecloths and a bouquet. She even handed me a catalog of wedding dresses.

"You've got better taste than me. What kind of wedding did you always want?"

I closed the catalog. "I don't have a past."

Her smile widened.

"Right. You don't remember anything now."

When Nathan showed up, Ivy tripped over her hem, and he immediately caught her by the waist.

I stood to one side, holding Ivy's discarded clothes like an assistant at her beck and call.

A staff member asked if I was one of the bridesmaids. "She's not bridesmaid material," Nathan said.

I didn't look at him again. I just pulled out my phone and checked my hotel booking in Southport.

Twenty-four hours to go.