Chapter 2

When I finally got back to the estate after training, I found my bedroom door open.

I stopped in the doorway.

My bed was gone. In its place stood an ivory canopy bed piled with cushions and stuffed animals.

Strings of tiny lights framed the windows, and the framed photographs on my dresser had been replaced.

Every picture was of Vivian and Rowan.

Dates had been written beneath each photograph.

The earliest was from three months ago.

I remembered those weekends. Rowan had said his father needed him at the docks. A shipment had been held up, and he couldn’t leave until the family’s business was settled.

Apparently, there had been time for the yacht.

A painted wooden sign hung on the back of my door.

VIVIAN & ROWAN’S LITTLE GETAWAY. NO INTERRUPTIONS.

I called Cade.

“Who gave Vivian my room?”

“Mom didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

There was a pause. Then his voice grew muffled.

“Dad, did anyone tell Elena about the room?”

“I told Rowan to handle it.”

Rowan’s voice came from farther away.

“I thought your mother had already talked to her.”

They were still together at the hospital.

Somehow, all of them had been involved. None of them had found a moment to tell me.

Cade came back on the line.

“Vivian wanted somewhere she and Rowan could feel like a couple. Your suite has the sitting room and the private terrace. It made sense.”

“Made sense to whom?”

“Don’t start. Dad approved it. We’ll put everything back when she’s done.”

I looked at the photographs again.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“The housekeeper’s getting a room ready above the garage.”

“There are six guest suites in this house.”

“And Vivian doesn’t want you right down the hall making her feel guilty.”

I said nothing.

“Elena, it’s temporary. You’ve slept in a chair beside her hospital bed before. You can survive a proper bed in another part of the house.”

I hung up.

My passport had always been in the second drawer of my desk.

Now the drawer was packed with Vivian’s hair clips, jewelry pouches, movie tickets, and a weekly pill organizer.

I moved the organizer aside.

Beside it sat an open bottle. I recognized the pale pink tablets inside.

Multivitamins.

The same ones she swallowed from a prescription bottle whenever someone reminded her it was time for her heart medication.

I’d known for months.

Her heart condition had been real once. The treatment had worked. During her last stay, I’d heard her cardiologist tell her she no longer needed the medication and could gradually return to her normal activities.

Vivian had seen me outside the consultation room.

“Please don’t tell them yet,” she’d whispered. “They’ll expect so much from me.”

I’d believed she needed time.

Then every time someone said no to her, she’d pressed a hand to her chest.

I had tried telling my family.

“Her doctor says she’s doing better.”

“Doing better isn’t the same as being well, Elena. Stop looking for excuses to be selfish.”

After that, I stopped trying.

I pushed the vitamins aside and found a leather journal lying over my passport.

A torn edge of heavy paper stuck out between the pages.

I knew that paper.

I slid it free.

My original invitation from Beaumont.

Dad had torn it across the middle while I stood in his study, still trying to explain what the opportunity meant.

Both halves were here, carefully joined with clear tape.

Across my name, Vivian had written one word in thick red ink.

MINE.

For a moment, I couldn’t move.

Then I opened the journal.

The page beside the invitation held a list.

Go on a real date with Rowan.

Spend a weekend on his yacht.

Have our own room.

Each had a check beside it.

Below them:

Attend the charity gala as Rowan’s girlfriend.

Wear a wedding dress. Rowan as the groom.

Get Elena’s place at Beaumont.

A little heart sat beside the last line.

My fingers tightened on the paper.

This wasn’t about trying things she’d missed while she was sick.

She wanted my room. My fiancé. The future I’d fought to keep.

And she knew exactly how to get them.

I folded the invitation and put it in my bag with my passport. Then I returned the journal to the drawer.

My phone buzzed.

Cade.

Don’t touch Vivian’s things. She’ll know if you move anything.

A second message followed.

Your room will be ready tonight. Have the staff bring over whatever you need.

I looked around the bedroom I’d lived in since I was sixteen.

Then I opened my flight confirmation.

Six more nights in this house.

I checked my passport against the booking details and slipped it into the inside pocket of my bag.

Then I took every stuffed animal off my bed.

I put them on the sitting-room sofa, stripped the sheets, and called downstairs for fresh bedding.

Vivian could have any guest suite she wanted.

Until I left, this room was still mine.

It was after eleven when Rowan called.

He called every night. He always had, even when family business kept him out until morning.

Tonight, I’d almost let myself forget.

I watched his name light up the screen, then answered.

“Hello?”

For a moment, I heard only a television playing quietly in the background.

“Rowan?”

Then Vivian’s voice came softly through the speaker.

“Elena? Rowan fell asleep on the couch.

I sat up.

“He said you couldn’t go to bed without he called. But he was so tired.”

A quiet laugh.

“So I thought I’d say good night for him.”