Chapter 2

Before the Bellmans went bankrupt, Bianca's father and Gregory did business together. The two families lived on the same street, and Ethan used to say he would marry Bianca someday.

Then the Bellmans' warehouse burned down, insurance refused to pay, and creditors started knocking. The Vosses left first. No goodbye, no help, just an empty house the next morning.

Ethan was hollowed out after that.

Then he met me.

I paid the Bellmans' debt, kept Gregory's house out of foreclosure, hired doctors for Helen, and sent Lila to a school she never could have entered on her own.

When Ethan got engaged to me, people said he was lucky. A clerk had found a woman who could carry him.

I didn't care. I thought gratitude could turn into love.

Money only feeds people until their appetite doubles.

The night before the flight, Helen called from the dining room, "Rosalyn, where's dinner? Bianca and her parents are hungry."

I was in the living room checking the port accounts. Pier Seventeen had cleared eighty-seven thousand that month. Ethan's paycheck wouldn't cover one docking fee.

I closed the laptop. "Don't we have a chef?"

"The chef took the night off," Helen said. "You used to cook all the time. Bianca finally came back. Don't put on airs."

Bianca was sitting in my usual chair, showing her mother the first-class boarding pass.

"Aunt Helen, I can help," she said, half rising. "I don't want Rosalyn to be upset."

Lila pressed her back down. "Sit. You're a guest. Guests don't cook."

I smiled at Helen. "Didn't you say Bianca was practically family? A home-cooked dinner from you would mean more."

Helen's face changed.

Ethan turned from the bar cabinet. "My mom's migraine has been acting up."

"Good. The doctor I pay every month can come by and decide whether her head hurts or she just doesn't want to cook for Bianca."

Helen slammed down her glass. "Who said I won't cook?"

She spent two hours making bland pasta, dry chicken, and a wilted salad.

At dinner, Bianca still sat in my chair. When I reached for it, Lila looked up. "Rosalyn, Bianca is our guest. You don't mind, right?"

Helen set an empty plate at the far end of the table. "Sit there. And clean up after."

I looked at the plate. Suddenly, I couldn't even be angry.

"No thanks. A client needs me at the pier. I'll eat out."

Ethan frowned. "We fly tomorrow, and you're still going out? Have you packed?"

"You have hands. Use them."

I drove to the most expensive members-only restaurant downtown and ordered steak, oysters, and a bottle of red wine Ethan would have called wasteful. Spending money on myself felt better than I expected.

When I returned after midnight, the villa was quiet.

No call. No text. Not one message asking if I had made it home.

I went upstairs and opened the master bedroom door.

My wedding gown hung by the window. Bianca stood in my walk-in closet with my veil over her head, turning in front of the mirror. Ethan sat on my bed with my diamond hair comb in his hand, as if he were choosing jewelry for her.

The last warmth in me went cold.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Bianca watched me through the mirror. "I was only trying it on. Ethan said you wouldn't mind."

I walked over and pulled the veil off her head. "That's mine."

She shrieked and hid behind Ethan.

Ethan stood at once. "What the hell, Rosalyn? She was curious. Do you have to be so vicious?"

"She tried on my veil, and you sat on my bed picking out my combs. That's curiosity?"

"We were discussing the wedding schedule. Bianca pays attention to details."

I looked at him and smiled. "Then maybe tomorrow you should walk her down the aisle."

His expression sank. "Every time Bianca appears, you lose your mind. Don't bring your dock paranoia into this house."

Bianca's eyes reddened on cue. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't go tomorrow. I don't want you two fighting over me."

Lila ran to the doorway. The moment she saw Bianca crying, she glared at me.

"Rosalyn, it's just a veil. Bianca didn't grow up with all your luxuries. What's wrong with letting her try it once?"

"When did my belongings become compensation for her childhood?"

No one answered.

I threw the veil into the trash.

Ethan stared at me. "That was custom-made."

"I paid for it. I can throw it out."

Then I shut the master bedroom door, locked it, and switched the security system to private mode.

Outside, Ethan hit the door a few times. "Rosalyn, open up. Stop acting like this."

I sat on the edge of the bed and texted my assistant.

[Check every payment authorization in the Maldives. By ten tomorrow morning, I want the power to cancel the entire wedding at any time.]