LOGINAnastasia had no desire to linger at Rutherford Manor any longer. She had already delivered the gift Judith had entrusted to her for Marianne. She had exchanged greetings and a few words with her father. That was enough.Her gaze drifted briefly toward the dessert corner, where, by chance—or perhaps not—Tristan happened to be looking in her direction as well. He raised the cupcake in his right hand and flashed her a broad, cheerful smile. It seemed the young man was doing just fine, too.She would ask Tristan to leave with her soon, but first, Anastasia decided to make a quick trip to the restroom. Her stomach was churning, and she felt as though she might be sick at any moment. Ever since arriving at Rutherford Manor, an unsettling turmoil had been stirring in her stomach. The memories of the life she had once lived here weighed heavily on her chest, making it difficult to breathe.“I’m going to the restroom,” Anastasia murmured.“Would you like me to accompany you, Sister?”She had
Anastasia spotted Henry in the distance. For a moment, she hesitated, reluctant to leave Tristan on his own. But it had been nearly a month since she'd last seen her father—not to mention the fact that they hadn't even exchanged so much as a text message.“Tristan, I'm going over there to say hello to my father. Would you like to come with me?” Anastasia asked.“Go ahead, darling. I'll have some cake over there.” Tristan pointed toward a corner of the room where an assortment of snacks and refreshments had been laid out.“Are you sure?”“Absolutely, darling!”“All right, then. Wait for me there, okay? Don't wander off without telling me.”“Okay, darling!” Tristan replied cheerfully before making his way toward the dessert table.His towering figure stood out among the other guests, making him impossible to miss. Once Anastasia was certain she wouldn't lose sight of him, she turned and headed toward Henry.But she'd barely taken two or three steps when someone caught her by the arm, br
“We’re here.”Thomas’s voice pulled Anastasia out of whatever thoughts had been consuming her. Their car came to a gentle stop directly in front of the grand entrance of Rutherford Manor.“Horay!” Tristan exclaimed, his excitement impossible to contain.Anastasia, however, felt an inexplicable tightness take hold of her chest.In her previous life, she had once called this place home. She knew every corridor, every turn, every hidden corner of the sprawling estate. She even remembered the exact number of steps leading to the second floor, where Andrew’s master bedroom was situated.By any measure, Rutherford Manor was an enormous residence. The Rutherfords were an old family whose fortunes had once flourished in the years before the end of the Second World War. But their glory had gradually faded as successive generations failed to preserve the family traditions or safeguard its once-vast holdings. The only remnant of their former grandeur was this ancestral home, a property that had
Ever since the accident that had left him with a traumatic brain injury, Tristan had not made a single public appearance—not at family gatherings, nor at any business-related events. But tonight would be different. Marianne Rutherford was hosting her birthday celebration at Rutherford Manor, and Judith had decided that Tristan would accompany Anastasia to present the Westwood family's gift.That afternoon, a renowned personal styling team had been summoned to the Westwood residence to ensure that Tristan and Anastasia were dressed in the finest attire and adorned with the most exquisite jewelry. The evening would bring together some of Manhattan's most distinguished families. Judith knew Marianne all too well. The woman would undoubtedly have invited the cream of high society, and the Westwoods were expected to look nothing short of impeccable.It was not a matter of vanity or a desire to flaunt their wealth. Every prominent name in Manhattan already knew exactly who the Westwoods wer
Juliette waited impatiently in the parking lot of the Westwood Building. The moment she spotted Andrew emerging from the building, she wasted no time making her way toward her husband.“Juliette!?” Andrew exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise as she approached. “What are you doing here?”
Andrew had always known Charles as Tristan’s fiercely loyal secretary. Before Tristan’s accident, Charles had been a constant presence at his side, never straying far from him, no matter the occasion or the business at hand. And now, that very same man was standing in Andrew’s way in the lobby on the twenty-seventh floor of the Westwood Building.“I’ve reviewed Mrs. Anastasia Westwood’s schedule, Mr. Rutherford, and I’m afraid you don’t have an appointment with her,” Charles said with unwavering confidence.“Then tell her I want to see her. Now.” Andrew refused to back down.“I’m sorry, Mr. Rutherford, but appointments must be made at least a day in advance.”Back when Tristan was still actively involved in running the company, he had been notoriously difficult to get hold of as well. Anyone fortunate enough to secure a face-to-face meeting with him and negotiate directly was considered lucky. Westwood Holding Company had earned a formidable reputation for its unwavering loyalty to it







