They Hid Me Beyond Manhattan's Lights

Martin, the family's attorney, picked up quickly.

Through the quiet line, I heard the sound of a folder being opened.

"Ms. Bennett, are you sure you want to initiate the trust review process?"

I stared at the photo on the coffee table.

The man in the photo was Graham Cole. He wore a dark suit that didn't quite fit and had a stiff, awkward smile. His resume said he worked as a finance director at a regional real estate firm.

I turned the photo face down, my voice calm and steady.

"Yes."

The door wasn't fully closed.

Alexander's footsteps stopped in the foyer.

He had always been commanding. He'd joined the Whitman Holdings board of directors at twenty-nine and taken the CEO seat at thirty-two. New York's financial press called him the youngest and least approachable man ever to helm the family empire.

Nothing angered him more than someone defying his plans.

"Who are you calling?"

I hung up and closed my hand around the phone. "A friend."

Nicholas leaned against the doorway, twirling his car keys. He was a partner at a major investment firm. He had a talent for getting people to accept his decisions with a calm, reasonable tone.

"Claire, don't throw a tantrum over Lillian. We set up this blind date for your own good."

Leon had already settled into the seat across from me. He picked up the photo and gave it another glance. "Didn't you always say you wanted a real marriage and a home you didn't have to hide? Now we've actually found someone for you, and you're still not happy?"

I looked at him, feeling nothing but exhaustion.

Four years ago, he'd been a nobody singing in dive bars, barely earning anything per gig. When his stomach problems flared up, he couldn't afford to waste money on a private clinic, so I'd take the subway late at night to bring him medicine.

That night, leaning against the rehearsal room wall, he'd held my hand and said, "Claire, when the whole world knows my name, I'll make sure they know every love song I've ever written belongs to you."

Now, the whole world knew Lillian sat in the front row of his concerts.

Only I had been hidden for four years.

Alexander placed another document on the table. "Graham has a stable job and a clean credit record. If you two get married, the Whitman family office will cover the down payment on a home for you."

He paused, then added, "After the wedding, you should move out of here."

I froze.

This Upper East Side townhouse had been placed in the trust by Grandfather Edward specifically for me to live in.

After I lost my parents at twelve, it was Grandfather who took me in. He told me I didn't need to change my last name or feel so indebted to anyone that I lost myself, because as long as he was alive, I would always have a home.

Nicholas noticed my hesitation and said slowly, "Lillian will be coming and going from the family residences quite often now. She was just cornered by reporters, and she's still shaken up. If you keep living here, she might get the wrong idea."

Leon let out a sudden laugh. "Get the wrong idea about what? That Claire is the secret lover the three of us have been hiding for four years?"

The living room went dead silent.

I picked up my glass of water. The cold rim pressed hard against my palm.

Alexander warned in a low voice, "Leon, watch what you say."

Leon raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Was I wrong? Claire needs to know her place. We've given her the best life possible. She can't expect us to revolve around her forever."

My place.

Four years ago, when Grandfather Edward was gravely ill, I stayed by his side at the hospital for two months. In the last week, I barely left his room until my blood sugar dropped so low I collapsed in the hallway.

When I woke up, the three brothers had been taking turns keeping watch at my bedside.

Alexander said, "Don't be afraid. I'll be here for you from now on."

Nicholas said, "Anyone who makes you suffer, I'll make them pay."

Leon was the most direct. "You can only choose one of the three of us. No one else is good enough for you."

I believed them.

I believed them until I turned twenty-five.

I watched them bring another woman into the spotlight, then turn around and shove me toward a stranger.

I set the photo back on the table. "Fine."

All three of them turned to look at me.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Fine what?"

"I'll meet him."

Leon was taken aback for a moment, then broke into a smile. "That's more like it. Graham doesn't come from any prominent family, so you won't have to deal with complicated social events. He's perfect for you."

He reached out to ruffle my hair, but I tilted my head away.

His hand hung in midair, and his smile faded for just a second.

Alexander studied me as if assessing an anomaly in a financial report. "Seven o'clock tomorrow night. I'll have the driver take you."

"No need. I'll go on my own."

Nicholas took a step forward and lowered his voice. "Claire, don't use this date as an excuse to do anything that'll embarrass us. We've all been busy lately. None of us has time to deal with your drama."

I looked up at him. "I know."

Before leaving, Alexander suddenly turned back. "Lillian is coming here to try on gowns tomorrow. Clear out the upstairs dressing room."

My fingers trembled slightly.

In the back of that dressing room hung a wedding dress.

Grandfather had commissioned a seamstress to remake it using lace left behind by my grandmother, tailored to my measurements when I was twenty-one. He told me that when I finally chose the person I wanted to spend my life with, he would walk me down the aisle himself.

He never lived to see that day.

"That's my room," I said.

Alexander frowned. "It's only for a few hours."

Nicholas smiled slightly. "Lillian is shooting a magazine spread, and the brand team will be coming. Have the housekeeper move your old clothes into storage for now. Nothing will go missing."

Leon was already on his feet. "You barely attend any events anyway. Those gowns are just hanging there, going to waste."

After the door closed, I was left alone with the photo of the man they'd set me up with.

I sat for a long time before walking into the dressing room.

The wedding dress hung in its garment bag at the very back, still and quiet.

My phone buzzed.

It was a message from Martin. "Your request for review has been accepted. Under the terms of the trust, all three current heir candidates must be present as witnesses for the formal reading."

I replied, "Understood."

A breeze drifted in through the window, and the lace veil swayed gently.

This time, I would not wait for them to choose me.