LOGINTwo years later.Winter in the city was brutally cold. Snow fell in thick curtains, blanketing the streets in white.I had just wrapped up the final negotiations on a cross-border acquisition. Under my leadership, the Holloway Group had not only cemented its position at the top, but expanded its reach overseas.I walked out of Holloway Group headquarters in a fitted black cashmere coat and heels, flanked by executives and bodyguards.The biting wind sliced through the air. A bodyguard immediately opened a large black umbrella, shielding me from the swirling snow.Just as I was about to step into the Rolls-Royce, something caught the corner of my eye near a trash can at the end of the block.A figure in rags. He wore a shapeless, colorless scrap of a jacket, his hair matted into filthy tangles, his face covered in frostbite sores and grime.He was sprawled in the snow, digging through a pile of reeking garbage for food.His left leg was gone from the thigh down -- nothing but a hollow p
The iron door screeched open.Julian walked inside. The air still reeked of mildew.The place was cold and empty. On the table sat the bowl of pasta, now rancid and spotted with mold. Beside it was the deflated, rock-hard little cake, and beneath it -- the Grand Pavilion receipt for $2,300,000.Julian walked to the table and dropped to his knees.He reached out with trembling hands and picked up the bowl of spoiled food. He didn't hesitate. He shoveled the rotten pasta into his mouth in huge, desperate mouthfuls.The gag reflex brought tears streaming down his face. Bile mixed with the decomposed food and leaked from the corners of his mouth. But he didn't stop. He kept chewing, kept swallowing, forcing it all down. He was trying, through this act of self-inflicted cruelty, to recover the last trace of me that still lingered in this room.When the bowl was empty, he dropped to the floor and searched beneath the bed.He pulled out a dust-covered cardboard box. Inside was a thick diary a
Ashford Corporation's assets were liquidated down to nothing. Julian Ashford became the city's biggest joke, saddled with tens of millions in personal debt.He was hunted by loan sharks, beaten, and driven into hiding in that dark, damp basement apartment in the worst part of town -- the same hundred square feet where he and I had lived for three years.When he'd exhausted every option, he thought of Victoria Sterling.The Sterlings were still a prominent family. Victoria had been his fiancee. They'd exchanged countless sweet nothings and vows of forever. Clutching his last shred of hope, he scraped together enough change for bus fare to the Sterling mansion.Julian stood outside the Sterlings' grand entrance in his stained suit and rang the doorbell.Victoria appeared in an expensive silk robe. The moment she saw the wreck Julian had become, her face twisted with disgust. She covered her nose and took two steps back."What are you doing here? You're nothing but a bum now. Don't dirty
Rain poured down in sheets. The night was thick and dark.Ashford Corporation officially entered bankruptcy liquidation. Richard Ashford was taken away by the police on charges of corporate fraud. Every mansion, every luxury car bearing the Ashford name was seized by court order.Julian Ashford, drenched to the bone, stumbled his way to the black wrought-iron gates of the Holloway estate.Wind and rain lashed his face -- the face that had once radiated invincibility. He carried no umbrella. His clothes clung to his frame. His knees buckled, and with a heavy thud, he dropped straight down into the mud outside the gates."Lily! Please -- just let me see you!" His hands gripped the iron bars as he screamed into the rain-soaked darkness, toward the brightly lit mansion beyond.The security guards stood impassively inside the gatehouse. No one acknowledged him.Julian knelt in the downpour the entire night. By dawn, the rain had eased slightly.I sat on the sofa in the great hall, sipping w
The news of the Holloway Group's divestment detonated across the financial world when the markets opened the next morning.Ashford Corporation's stock went into freefall the instant trading began. Banks scrambled to call in their loans. Creditors filed emergency motions. Suppliers sent demand letters threatening litigation. In a single day, the Ashford family went from the pinnacle of elite society to debt-ridden pariahs.Julian didn't go to the office to manage the crisis. He got behind the wheel and drove like a man possessed to the industrial district on the outskirts.He went to the chemical plant where I used to work.His car screeched to a halt in front of the reeking, abandoned factory building. Julian stormed into the office, grabbed the plant manager by the collar, eyes bloodshot and wild."What did Lily do here? Show me her work records -- all of them!" He was screaming.The manager, terrified by the look on his face, fumbled through the filing cabinet and pulled out a batter
The black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided into The Belmont Grand Hotel's private underground VIP tunnel.The elevator went straight to the top-floor ballroom.The dazzling glow of crystal chandeliers filled the hall; the delicate sound of a violin drifted through the air. Every person of note in the city stood holding champagne flutes, mingling and murmuring.My arrival plunged the noisy hall into instant silence.Mr. Pemberton walked a half-step ahead, pushing open the heavy carved wooden doors for me.Richard Ashford -- Julian's father and the current head of the Ashford family -- stood at the center of the ballroom, wearing a plastered-on smile. The moment he saw Pemberton, he rushed over, his posture hunched, practically groveling."Mr. Pemberton, you're finally here. Chairman Holloway, is he--" Richard's words died mid-sentence as his gaze fell on me. He noticed the heirloom emerald necklace -- the mark of the Holloway heir -- around my neck. A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes, bu







