LOGINIvy Bennett has six weeks to save her family's home and eight months to save her father's life — and exactly one option left. Damien Cole, the coldest CEO in Manhattan, needs a wife by his thirty-fifth birthday or he loses everything his grandfather built to a cousin who'd burn it down for profit. It's a business transaction: marry him for one year, sign the papers, walk away wealthy. Except Damien doesn't smile for anyone — until her. And Ivy doesn't know how to stay guarded around a man who watches her like she's the only thing he can't control. As his cousin Vaughn circles with a decade-old scheme to destroy them both, the contract stops feeling like paper and starts feeling like a promise neither of them planned to keep. Then Ivy discovers the truth: Vaughn didn't just try to expose their marriage. He engineered the very desperation that put her in Damien's path years before they ever met. Now Damien must choose between the empire he was raised to protect — and the woman who taught him love was never the weakness he was told it was.
View MoreIt happened on an ordinary Thursday, nearly a year after our anniversary.That was what frightened me. No crash, no sudden pain, no frantic call in the middle of the night. Just the kettle beginning to hiss and Damien searching the kitchen drawers as if something important had gone missing.He was dressed for a board meeting he hadn't attended in more than a decade. His shirt was buttoned, his tie straight, and his watch fastened at the familiar notch."Have you seen my car keys?" he asked, moving a stack of mail aside. "I'm going to be late for the Halden quarterly review."For a second, I thought he was joking.Then I saw his face."Damien, you retired from active leadership years ago," I said, keeping my voice even. "There's no quarterly review today."He stopped with one hand inside the drawer. His eyes moved from the key bowl to the counter, then back to me. I watched him struggle to fit my words into the morning he thought he was having."That's right," he said at last.He gave
The celebration continued long after sunset.String lights stretched between the old trees, illuminating the garden and the faces of our family. Our grandchildren had taken over the dance floor, while the older guests lingered around tables cluttered with empty plates and half-finished drinks.I stood at the edge of the lawn, watching them.Fifty years ago, I'd entered this marriage with a contract, a sick father, and a list of conditions I couldn't afford to ignore. At twenty-six, I had been determined to save my family without surrendering control of my own life.Now, my grandchildren chased one another beneath the lights, and my daughter laughed with her children. The future I'd once struggled to imagine was unfolding in front of me.Damien appeared beside me and held out his hand."Dance with me."His silver hair caught the light. The lines around his eyes deepened as he smiled, and for a moment I saw the young man who had once stood across a desk from me, convinced every problem
By the time Priya stood to offer her toast, the celebration had settled into the easy disorder of a family gathering nobody wanted to end. Grandchildren clustered around the dessert table, Grace was trying to arrange a photograph, and string lights swayed above the lawn whenever the evening breeze moved through the garden.Priya stood beside her chair, holding her glass in both hands. Her hair was threaded with silver, but the warmth in her face hadn't changed. Before speaking, she pressed her lips together—the same small gesture she'd had at nineteen when she was trying to arrange a thought that mattered.I'd seen that expression across a kitchen table, in hospital corridors, and during phone calls so long we'd forgotten why we'd called.Damien noticed me watching her."You're going to cry," he whispered."I'm not."He glanced at my eyes. "Of course not."I nudged his knee beneath the table. He lifted his glass to hide his smile.Priya waited for the nearby conversations to quiet. Sh
The following evening, our extended family gathered in the Hudson Valley garden where so many of our lives' turning points had unfolded.Damien and I had married beneath these trees fifty years earlier. Grace had held her wedding here, followed by Eleanor, then Marcus and Amara. The branches had spread since our own ceremony, and strings of lights now glimmered above the lawn.Lanterns lined the stone path. White cloths covered the tables, and someone had arranged photographs from different years of our lives along a side table. One showed Damien and me at our first Christmas as a married couple. I looked impossibly young. He wore the serious expression he'd once mistaken for dependability.“You're staring at that picture again,” Damien murmured.“I'm deciding whether you looked stern or uncomfortable.”“I was concentrating.”“On what?”“Making sure the photographer didn't catch me smiling.”“You failed.”“I know. It was a difficult evening.”His hand settled against my back. Around u












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