Chapter 4

The news hit New York like a shockwave.

Adrian Sterling's instincts were legendary. Anyone he rated this highly had to be something extraordinary.

Meanwhile, Ethan was drowning.

The designers he'd hired to replace me couldn't carry the weight I'd been holding. The new season rolled out to thin applause, and then to open accusations from long-time clients that Whitmore's work had "lost its soul."

The quarterly earnings were cut in half. The board started closing in.

To claw his way back, Ethan bet everything on one thing: the Starwater Bay Landmark Tower competition, New York's next billion-dollar landmark project. Whoever won it could plant a flag in this city for good.

Ethan poured every resource into it. He pulled staff off other accounts. Mandatory overtime. All hands on Starwater Bay.

Celeste couldn't stay out of it. She demanded her "artistic vision" be integrated into the design.

When Jenna called me with the leaked intel, she was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe.

"Celeste, actually, wants a giant pink bow on the top of the tower. She calls it 'A Debutante's Prayer.'"

"And Ethan agreed. Did someone drug him?"

I looked at my own finished rendering of Starwater Bay on my screen. My mouth lifted, cold.

"A pink bow. Cute. Matches his brain."

I hit send and submitted my bid to Adrian.

Two weeks later, the competition opened. Anyone with a name in New York was in that auditorium.

I wasn't there. I watched the livestream from Adrian's office.

Ethan walked onto the stage in a custom-tailored suit, radiating confidence.

He unveiled his plan, the one with the colossal pink ribbon crowning the spire.

The jury exchanged looks I wouldn't describe as polite.

Ethan didn't notice. He was still rhapsodizing about Celeste's "artistic vision."

"This bow represents love and peace. It is the soul of this design,"

The head juror finally cut him off.

"Mr. Whitmore. We're designing a city landmark, not a theme park."

"Your proposal is all spectacle. Structurally, it's a mess."

Ethan's smile froze.

"But,"

"No. Next."

Ethan walked off the stage, face the color of ash.

Then Sterling Capital's representative walked up.

My design filled the screen.

The hall went silent.

A tower like a running wave, fluid, dynamic, its surface broken by constellations carved into glass. Grand and intimate at once.

And the structural drawings underneath? Textbook perfect.

"My god,"

"This is a landmark."

"Who designed this? This person's a genius."

The judges rose to their feet, clapping.

The Sterling rep smiled into the microphone.

"This is the work of our firm's lead designer, known only as 'X.'"

In the audience, Ethan's eyes were fixed on the screen. On the geometry of those lines. The spatial language.

He knew that hand.

That was Emily's work.

But that was impossible. Emily should be hiding in some basement, crying into her pillow. How could she be Sterling Capital's star designer "X"?

Ethan bolted out of the hall. He tore out his phone and dialed me like a man losing his mind. The only thing he got was the cold, recorded voice:

"The number you have dialed is not available."

He'd been blocked a long time.

The verdict on Starwater Bay was a formality. Sterling Capital won the commission.

Whitmore & Co., having spent ridiculously on the bid, broke its cash flow completely.

Out of options, Ethan swallowed his pride and went to Adrian.

"Mr. Sterling. I'd like a meeting with X. Just one."

He stood in Adrian's office with his head down.

"My firm is willing to pay double your going rate for X to consult on our next project."

Adrian leaned back in his chair, spinning a pen.

"Double? Mr. Whitmore, do you even have double right now?"

Ethan's face burned.

"If X will agree, I'll sell whatever I have to sell."

Adrian stopped spinning the pen. He stood.

"If you're that sincere, I'll set it up."

"Tonight. Eight o'clock. The Grand Plaza Hotel, Penthouse Suite 5001."

"X will be waiting for you."

Ethan thanked him like he'd been handed the last lifeboat.

He thought, if I can just get in front of X, I can sell him on this. No one in the industry turns down money.

At seven-thirty that evening, outside Penthouse Suite 5001 of the Grand Plaza, Ethan paced the corridor.

He held a bouquet of hothouse roses.

He straightened his tie. Drew a slow breath.

This was his lifeline. His one shot.

If X was a woman, and privately he was hoping X was a woman, he'd handle her the way he'd handled Emily for five years.

The private elevator at the end of the hall chimed.

The doors opened.

Ethan pulled on his most charming smile and stepped forward.

"X. It's an honor. My name is Ethan Whitmore,"

The sentence died on his tongue.

I walked out with my arm threaded through Adrian's, slow, deliberate steps, until I was right in front of him.

I looked down at that twisted expression on his face.

"Mr. Whitmore. It's been a while."