The Thirty-Day Window

"Give me one letter," she said. "One letter, and I'll consider your offer."

"Consider? I need a yes or no."

"You need me to agree, which means you need to give me a reason beyond threats and money." She crossed her arms. "One letter. That's my counteroffer."

Dominic studied her for a long moment. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. Old. Yellowed. Her name was written across the front in handwriting she didn't recognize.

"He wrote this note on your eighteenth birthday," Dominic said. "It's the last one."

Elena took it with shaking hands.

"Read it tonight," Dominic said. "I'll come by your hotel tomorrow at nine."

"I don't have a hotel."

He pulled out his phone, typed something, and showed her the screen. The screen displayed a confirmation number for the Ashford Grand Manhattan hotel. Junior suite.

"Yes, you do."

"I can't afford—"

"It's a congratulations; you own the hotel." He headed for the door, then paused. "And Elena? Your mother's mortgage payment is due next week. Just something to think about."

He left before she could respond.

Howard started gathering papers. "Ms. Castellano, I should tell you—"

"He's always like this, isn't he?"

"Dominic is... driven."

"That's a generous word for it."

"He's also right. The thirty-day window is real, and the terms are binding. If you refuse to marry, or if either of you backs out after the wedding, the entire estate goes to the foundation."

Elena looked down at the letter in her hands. Her father's handwriting. Proof he'd thought about her.

"What was he like?" she asked. "Marcus."

Howard's expression softened. "I never met him. He left before I started with the firm. But Victoria kept a photo of him in her office until the day she died. She never forgave him for leaving, but she never stopped loving him either."

"Then why did she do this? Why did she force me to marry Dominic?"

"I think," Howard said carefully, "she wanted to see if you were strong enough to survive this family."

The Ashford Grand Manhattan was the kind of hotel where the doorman wore white gloves and the lobby had a chandelier that probably had its own insurance policy. Elena walked in wearing her target dress and secondhand coat and felt every eye in the place land on her.

The woman at the front desk took one look at Elena, and her face shifted into a professional courtesy that was somehow worse than rudeness.

"Can I help you?"

"I have a reservation. Elena Castellano."

The woman typed, and her expression changed. "Oh. Oh! Ms. Castellano. Of course. Right away." She snapped her fingers at a bellhop. "Junior suite. Immediately."

"I don't have luggage," Elena said.

"That's fine! Completely fine. Mr. Ashford called ahead. Everything's been arranged."

Of course it had.

The junior suite was bigger than Elena's entire apartment. The junior suite boasted floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a stunning view of Central Park. There was a bed large enough to accommodate four people. The bathroom featured a tub large enough to drown in.

On the bed was a garment bag with a note attached: For tomorrow. - D

Elena unzipped it. Inside was a dress. Black, simple, expensive. Her size exactly.

She hated that he'd gotten it right.

She hated that she wanted to try it on.

She sat on the edge of the enormous bed and opened her father's letter instead.

*Dear Elena,*

*You're eighteen today. Officially an adult, though I'm sure you've been grown-up for years already. Your mother is strong like that—she raises strong daughters.*

*I'm writing this knowing you'll never read it. Your grandmother intercepts these letters. She thinks she's punishing me, but really, she's punishing you. I'm sorry for that.*

*I left the Ashford family because I wanted to choose my own life. I met your mother, and I thought we could build something real. Something that wasn't about money or legacy or living up to impossible standards.*

*Then I found out she was pregnant with you, and I was terrified and thrilled in equal measure. I wanted to tell my family. I wanted to bring you both into the fold.*

*But Victoria gave me an ultimatum: the family or you. Both would destroy me, she said. I would fail as a father or fail as an Ashford.*

*I chose you. I chose your mother. I chose the life we could have together.*

*Three months later, I was in a car accident. By the time I woke up, your mother was gone. She'd taken you and disappeared, and I understood why. My family was already circling, already threatening. She was protecting you from them.*

*I should have fought harder. I should have found you.*

*Instead, I left you money. Shares in the company. Proof that you existed. That you were mine. That you mattered.*

*If you're reading this, it means Victoria has died and you've learned the truth. Which means she's put you in an impossible position, because that's what Victoria does. She tests people.*

*Here's what I want you to know: you don't owe the Ashford family anything. You don't owe me anything. That money is yours because you're mine, but you're also your mother's. You're allowed to walk away.*

*But if you stay, if you fight, then you need to understand what you're fighting for. It's not just money. It's the right to choose your own life. To not let anyone—not Victoria, not Dominic, not anyone—tell you who you have to be.*

*Fight like hell, Elena. And when you win, use that money to build something beautiful.*

*I love you. I always have.*

*Happy Birthday.*

*Dad*

Elena read it three times, crying harder each time.

Her father had chosen her. He'd fought for her. And then he'd lost.

She looked at the dress Dominic had sent. She took in the breathtaking view of Central Park. At the luxury she'd stumbled into.

Her phone rang. Her mother.

"Are you in New York?" Rosa asked without preamble.

"Yes."

"Elena—"

"He wrote me letters, Mom. Dad wrote me letters. Every year."

Silence.

"You knew," Elena said. "You knew he wanted to be in my life."

"I knew his family would destroy you." Rosa's voice was thick. "They destroyed him."

"He had an accident—"

"He had a breakdown. The pressure, the family, Victoria's constant disappointment. He drove into that tree on purpose, Elena. He couldn't live with their expectations anymore."

Elena's hands went numb.

"He loved you," Rosa continued. "That's why I left. Because I knew if we stayed, they'd crush you too. They'd turn you into what they wanted, not what you were."

"They're offering me billions."

"And what do they want in return?"

Elena looked at the dress again. At the price of admission.

"Everything," she whispered.

"Then tell them no."

But Elena thought about the mortgage. About Millbrook dying. About her father's words: fight like hell.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Mom."

She hung up before Rosa could argue.

Then she tried on the dress.

It fit perfectly.