Chapter 1

The car pulled up outside the Whitmore estate, and Julian Whitmore unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Give me five minutes. I need to go tell my mom you're here."

Five minutes came and went. He texted that it wouldn't be long.

At ten minutes, he said he was almost done.

At forty minutes, he said to wait a little longer.

I stopped replying.

Through the car window, I watched Eleanor Whitmore personally come out to greet a girl in a fitted red dress. The girl stepped out of her car, walked straight to Julian, and looped her arm through his.

He didn't pull away.

The three of them walked inside together, laughing, and the front door swung shut in front of me. My phone screen was still lit, the last message still reading: [Wait a little longer.]

Twenty minutes later, the butler knocked on the car window.

"You're Vera Hart, aren't you? Mrs. Whitmore would like you to come in and help — the kitchen's short-handed."

"How does Mrs. Whitmore even know who I am?"

"The young master mentioned you. He said you'd just be sitting out here waiting anyway."

I followed him in through the side door, into the kitchen.

He shoved a stack of plates and bowls into my hands and pointed toward a table in the corner.

"That table's short a place setting. Once you've set it, come back to the kitchen and help carry out the food."

I carried the dishes toward the banquet hall and passed a mirror on the way. I caught my own reflection — standing there in that dress, in the dim hallway, looking completely out of place. Waves of laughter kept drifting out from the banquet hall.

I set the dishes down at the corner table and looked up. Eleanor was standing beside the head table, holding Camille Sinclair's hand.

"Since we're all celebrating today, I have happy news to share. Camille and Julian's wedding is set for Thanksgiving."

The room broke into applause, and someone shouted for them to kiss. Camille rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to Julian's cheek. He didn't pull away — just stood there with a faint smile.

I stood in the corner. Not once did he look my way.

I set down the cutlery and slipped out through the side door. I'd barely stepped into the courtyard when Eleanor came out after me. She stood on the steps and looked me over, head to toe.

"So you're Vera Hart. Julian's mentioned you before — said you were a sensible girl, one who would never make a scene."

She smiled and stepped closer, patting the back of my hand.

"You saw what happened tonight. Camille is going to be this family's daughter-in-law. Julian's too soft-hearted to say it to your face, so I'll say it for him. Go on home. Don't come back after tonight."

With that, she turned and went back inside.

I walked out to the front gate, and my phone lit up.

Julian: [Wait for me. I'll fix this.]

I texted back: [Congratulations to you.]

Then, I called a car.

As it turned out of the alley, I glanced in the rearview mirror at the second-floor window of the Whitmore estate. Camille was standing there with a glass of wine, raising it slightly in my direction.

Then a photo came in from an unknown number. It was Julian and Camille together, her leaning against his shoulder, him smiling at the camera. Underneath it, a single line: [He told everyone you're just his assistant.]

I stared at that photo for a long time, then flipped my phone face-down on my lap.

I suddenly remembered my mother, holding my hand on her deathbed.

"Vera, don't waste your life on someone who makes you wait. Your father made me wait ten years, and in the end he left with that other woman. I don't want that for you."

I'd held her hand and promised I wouldn't.

But now I was sitting in the back of a cab, and I didn't even know where I was going.

Back home, I opened the closet. The first dress Julian ever bought me was still hanging there. I'd worn it for three years and never had the heart to throw it away.

I folded it and stuffed it into a bag, then dug the pearl earrings out of my dresser drawer. He'd bought them with his first bonus and promised he'd get me something new every anniversary after that.

Three anniversaries had come and gone since. That pair of earrings was still the only gift I'd ever gotten.