CHAPTER 1

It had been a month since the wedding of the year that never happened.

A month since Neveah had walked down an aisle alone in front of hundreds of guests, announced that her groom had abandoned her, and then left the venue with her head held high as though her entire future hadn't just collapsed in front of everyone she knew.

The tabloids had loved it.

For about a week, her name had been everywhere.

Billionaire Heiress Abandoned at the Altar.

Bride's Groom Disappears Minutes Before Wedding.

What Really Happened at Neveah Sterling's Wedding?

There had been photographs, theories, anonymous sources, dramatic headlines, and people who had apparently never met her confidently explaining what kind of woman she was.

Neveah had read exactly three articles before throwing her phone onto the sofa and deciding that the entire world could go to hell.

After that, she stopped checking.

She also stopped working.

Her break had initially been planned for three weeks. Three weeks for her honeymoon, followed by three weeks of returning to her office with a new husband and a life she had carefully arranged.

Instead, she had spent the first three weeks travelling alone.

Nobody at her company complained.

Nobody could.

Neveah was the owner.

If she wanted to disappear for a month, she could. If she wanted to disappear for six months, the company would still be waiting for her whenever she decided to return.

Her assistant had called during the first week.

“Do you want me to send the reports?”

“No.”

“The quarterly projections?”

“No.”

“The legal documents that need your signature?”

“No.”

There had been a long silence on the other end.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“Do you want me to at least—”

“No, Olivia.”

Another pause.

“Okay.”

Neveah had smiled.

“Thank you.”

That had been the end of the conversation.

It was strangely liberating.

For years, her days had been ruled by schedules, meetings, deadlines, contracts, phone calls, and decisions. She woke up knowing exactly what she needed to accomplish and went to bed mentally listing everything she had failed to finish.

Now she had nothing.

And she was beginning to discover that having nothing to do was both wonderful and deeply irritating.

She had travelled first.

Not somewhere dramatic.

She didn't want photographers waiting outside luxury resorts or strangers recognizing her from the news. She chose quiet places, stayed in hotels where nobody knew her name, ate alone, walked around without checking the time, and allowed herself to get lost in streets she had no reason to remember.

She had even taken a train simply because she liked the view.

That was how far she had fallen.

Neveah Sterling, who once planned her route to the minute, had boarded a train without knowing exactly where she was getting off.

And somehow, she survived.

She called her parents every few days.

Her mother always asked the same question.

“Are you eating?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Proper food?”

“Yes.”

“Not just coffee?”

“I don't drink that much coffee.”

“You drank four cups at breakfast when you were twelve.”

“That was fourteen years ago.”

“Exactly. You've always been stubborn.”

Neveah would roll her eyes every time.

Her father was less subtle.

“When are you coming home?”

“I am home.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I'm travelling.”

“You've been travelling for three weeks.”

“And?”

“And nothing. I just want my daughter around.”

Those conversations were the closest thing she had to a routine.

She didn't tell them everything.

She didn't tell her mother that sometimes she woke up and reached for her phone expecting a message from her fiancé before remembering that there was no fiancé anymore.

She didn't tell her father that she'd deleted their wedding photographs because seeing herself smiling beside a man who had abandoned her made her stomach twist.

And she definitely didn't tell either of them that she had spent one night sitting on the bathroom floor of a hotel room, wondering if maybe he had been right.

Maybe she was too controlling.

Maybe she really was impossible.

Maybe there was something wrong with the way she loved people.

That thought had bothered her more than the wedding itself.

But she had eventually decided that she didn't have the energy to hate herself for someone else's decision.

So she came home.

And then she did absolutely nothing.

Her penthouse had never felt so quiet.

The place was usually immaculate because Neveah hated clutter, but after returning from her trip, she had stopped caring about the small things. A book had been left open on the coffee table for three days. A pair of sunglasses sat beside it. One of her suitcases remained half-unpacked in the guest bedroom.

She knew.

She simply didn't care.

That afternoon, Neveah was lying across the enormous sofa in an oversized shirt and shorts, staring at the ceiling.

The television was on.

She had no idea what was playing.

She had been watching it for almost an hour without absorbing a single word.

Her phone buzzed.

She glanced at it.

A message from Olivia.

Are you planning to return this week?

Neveah stared at the message.

Then she locked the phone.

Five seconds later, she unlocked it again.

No.

She typed the response.

Deleted it.

Typed another.

Maybe next week.

She deleted that too.

Finally, she sent:

I'll let you know.

The reply came almost immediately.

Understood.

Neveah dropped the phone beside her.

“Everyone is so patient with me,” she muttered.

It was almost insulting.

She had expected her company to fall apart without her.

Instead, Olivia had kept everything running.

Her managers had handled the departments.

Her lawyers had handled the contracts.

Her father had quietly made sure nobody took advantage of her absence.

The world had continued turning.

Apparently, it didn't need Neveah as much as Neveah had thought.

She wasn't sure whether that was humbling or offensive.

Her stomach growled.

She frowned.

“You too?”

She sat up reluctantly.

The kitchen was only a few steps away, but she stared at it as though it were located in another country.

She had food in the refrigerator.

She knew because her housekeeper had stocked it before leaving for the weekend.

But cooking required effort.

Neveah considered ordering something.

Then she remembered she had ordered takeout twice yesterday.

She sighed and dragged herself into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, she was sitting at the counter eating scrambled eggs that were slightly overcooked.

She stared at them.

“This is terrible.”

And yet she kept eating.

Maybe that was adulthood.

Sometimes things were terrible and you simply finished them anyway.

Her phone buzzed again.

This time, it was her mother.

Neveah answered.

“Hello, Mum.”

“Are you busy?”

“No.”

“What are you doing?”

“Eating.”

Her mother went quiet.

“Eating what?”

Neveah looked at the plate.

“Eggs.”

“Did you cook?”

“Yes.”

Another silence.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

Neveah smiled despite herself.

“I'm fine.”

“You've been saying that for a month.”

“Because I am.”

Her mother sighed.

“I know you, Neveah.”

“I know.”

“And you don't have to pretend with me.”

Neveah looked through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The city stretched beneath her, bright and restless even in the afternoon. Cars moved along the roads like streams of light. Buildings stood shoulder to shoulder, filled with people living lives that had nothing to do with hers.

For the first time in weeks, she felt tired rather than angry.

“I just needed some time,” she admitted.

“I know.”

“I don't want everyone asking me what happened.”

“You don't have to explain anything.”

“I don't want people looking at me like I'm broken.”

“You aren't broken.”

Neveah swallowed.

Her mother said it so simply.

As if it were a fact.

Maybe it was.

“I'll come over this weekend,” Neveah said.

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“And we'll have dinner.”

“Fine.”

“And don't cancel.”

“I won't.”

Her mother laughed softly.

“There’s my daughter.”

After the call ended, Neveah remained at the counter.

She realized something then.

For the first time since the wedding, she wasn't thinking about her ex.

Not really.

She was thinking about what came next.

Maybe she should return to work.

Maybe she should stop hiding in her apartment.

Maybe she should start living again.

She looked around the quiet penthouse.

The wedding had been supposed to change her life.

It had.

Just not in the way she had expected.

Neveah picked up her phone.

She opened her calendar.

Her thumb hovered over the screen.

Then she added a reminder.

Monday — Return to work.

She stared at it for a moment.

Monday was four days away.

Four days to finish doing absolutely nothing.

Four days to enjoy being unemployed despite technically owning a company.

Four days before everyone expected her to become Neveah Sterling again—the woman who walked into a room and took control of it without asking permission.

She smiled faintly.

Maybe she was ready.

What she didn't know was that her return to work would not be the only thing waiting for her on Monday.

Neither was the phone call from her parents that would change the direction of her life all over again.

And this time, the man at the center of it would be someone she had spent years trying very hard to forget.

Someone with a British accent, an infuriating smile, and a talent for getting under her skin.

Sebastian Blackwood.