Chapter 3

Once Mia had the ring, my parents took her downstairs, but Julian stayed behind.

He took my hand and spoke softly. "Elena, I know this hurts. But your family will always owe Mia. Her father died saving your parents. Just give in to her a little more.

"Your birthday is the day after tomorrow. I booked that Michelin-starred restaurant you love. We'll celebrate properly, and you can put this behind you, okay?"

Maybe part of me still couldn't let go. Or maybe I wanted one last good memory with him.

I swallowed the bitterness and nodded, my voice hoarse. "Okay."

On my birthday, I put on the red dress Julian had given me and went to the restaurant. Our reservation time came and went, and there was still no sign of him.

A storm broke outside. I sat by the window for four hours, feeling like a fool.

My steak went cold. The candles burned down. He didn't answer a single call or message.

I waited until the restaurant closed. He never came.

When I got home, Julian's car was parked out front. The door was ajar. Through the gap, I saw him sitting on the couch.

Mia sat astride his lap in a skimpy silk nightgown, her face buried in his chest as she cried.

"Julian, I feel awful. My chest still feels so tight. Don't leave tonight, okay?"

Julian soothed her gently. "Okay. Don't be scared. I'm not going anywhere."

I stood outside in the shadows, my heart aching so badly I could hardly breathe.

I shoved the door open and fixed them with a cold stare.

When Julian saw me, he pushed Mia off him in a panic. "Elena, let me explain..."

I smiled bitterly. "Explain why you're holding my sister on your lap while she's wearing a silk nightgown? On my birthday?

"No need to explain, Julian. I saw everything."

I turned to leave, but Julian grabbed me. "Elena, it's not what you think. Mia had an asthma attack. I couldn't leave her.

"I swear I didn't stand you up on purpose!"

"Elena, don't blame Julian!" Mia suddenly stepped in front of him, crying. "I didn't know today was your birthday! It's all my fault. I shouldn't have gotten sick. Please don't be mad at him!"

The argument brought my parents downstairs. "Elena, Julian had a good reason," my father said sternly. "He didn't do it on purpose. Stop throwing a tantrum."

My mother took my hand. "That's enough. We're all family. Don't make a fuss. Go upstairs, take a hot shower, and change before you catch a cold."

The gentle way they covered for him cut me to pieces.

I shook off my mother's hand and went upstairs without a word.

In my room, I peeled off the soaked red dress and threw it in the trash.

Half an hour later, my mother pushed the door open.

To my surprise, she was carrying a custard tart she'd made herself, topped with my favorite strawberries.

For a moment, I froze.

Until I was 15, my mother made me a custard tart for every birthday.

But after Mia arrived, eggs were banned from our table because she was allergic. I hadn't tasted one of my mother's custard tarts in years.

"I know you've had a rough day." My mother put the custard tart in my hands and said gently, "Tonight's your birthday. You should be happy. Go on, try it."

The tart was warm, and the steam rising from it brought tears to my eyes.

All the hurt of being ignored and stripped of everything seemed to drift away with the steam.

Maybe, deep down, they still love me?

I was about to speak when my mother said, "Elena, Mia has severe asthma, and the city air is bad for her. We want to transfer the house your grandmother left you to her."

The color drained from my face. A chill swept through me.

My mother went on, as if she hadn't noticed. "Once you marry Julian, you'll live at the Carter estate. You won't need that old house.

"Mia has no one else. She needs a place like that. Think of it as a loan. When we have more money, we'll buy you an even bigger place, okay?"