Chapter 1

“No way.”

Someone broke the silence. “Wren? She loves her own skin too much. Don’t you remember the fire? James went in to save her, and what did she do? She ran. If it wasn’t for Sienna, he wouldn’t have made it out.”

Sienna Shore was James’s fiancée.

She’d had a crush on him for three years in high school, chased him for another three in college, and now she’d finally landed him. A sweet ending, really.

James’s face darkened.

“Tell her that no matter how much she plays the victim, I’m not seeing her. And I’m sure as hell not forgiving her.”

His voice was ice.

What kind of game was Wren playing now?

Had she heard he was getting married, regretted it, and started putting on the heartbroken act?

Zoe reached into her bag and pulled out a small, delicate ring.

“I already saw her.”

“James, she asked me to give this to you before she died.”

When he took it, his fingers froze.

It was the ring he’d bought to propose to me, the year he graduated from college.

Back then, James was chasing the painter’s dream and flat-out refused to take over the family company. He wanted to make it on his own, with me.

He’d cut himself off from every dollar the Thorne family offered, and we had nothing.

When he proposed, he held up that ring and said, “Wren, all I’ve got right now is you and a heart that’ll love you forever. Nothing else.”

“This ring is small and it’s nothing fancy, but I worked a whole month to buy it. Once my paintings start selling, I’ll get you a real diamond. Deal?”

I looked down at him. He couldn’t hide the love in his eyes even if he tried.

I took the ring, slipped it onto my own finger, and said softly, “Okay.”

He scooped me up and spun me around.

Now, here he was, staring at the ring with a flat, unreadable face, turning it between his fingers.

A long moment later, he dropped it in the trash.

“Zoe, I know you two are close, but don’t run errands for her. I can see exactly what she’s doing.”

“She had you bring me this ring so I’d think about the past and soften up. Right?”

“Then she really doesn’t know me at all.”

He said it like he was talking about a stranger.

Zoe sighed, pulled out her phone, and opened a video.

“Honestly, I wish this were just some scheme of hers too.”

Her voice was rough. “Just watch.”

The video started playing. It was me, cleaning the bathroom in a nightclub.

A few months ago, we’d run into each other there.

“Wren? Is that you?”

“What happened to you? What are you doing here, cleaning toilets?”

From inside the stalls came the sound of someone drunk and vomiting. Zoe wrinkled her nose, half-covered it with her fingers, and didn’t bother to hide her disgust.

I didn’t react, because I’d gotten used to it.

“You disappeared for two years. I never thought I’d find you here.”

Zoe stared, openly shocked.

Fair enough. I was skin and bones, and filthy.

The illness had wrecked my immune system, and my whole body was covered in an angry red rash that itched constantly. Steroids were the only thing keeping it down.

I gave her an awkward smile and wiped my dirty hand on the rag.

“I thought you got yourself a sugar daddy. Did he cut you off or something?”

“Wren, say something. Do you have any idea what people are saying about you? They’re saying you’re a gold-digger, that you dumped James and got picked up by some old, ugly rich guy. Is any of it true?”

I rinsed out the mop. “Doesn’t matter,” I said quietly. “Let them say whatever they want.”

“As long as James is happy.”

I bent over and rolled up my sleeves, and my wrists came into view, covered in rash and scratch marks.

I caught Zoe’s stunned look and tried to keep it light. “Some drunks come in here and lose it. Comes with the job.”

“Wren, are you trying to look pathetic, or noble? Which is it?”

There was nothing but disbelief in her voice.

“You walked out on him without looking back.”

“James drank himself sick for you. He ended up in the ER with stomach bleeding more than once. He almost died, and you didn’t show up. Not once.”

I walked over to one of the stalls and opened the door.

That was everything I owned: a grimy blanket, a change of clothes, a wash basin, a framed photo of my grandmother, and a small jewelry box. Inside the box was the ring, the one that meant everything to me.

I looked at Zoe and felt like I was looking at her from another life.

“I’m not playing noble, and I’m not playing the victim.”

“And there’s no rich guy.”

“I’ve got nowhere else to go. This is where I live.”