Chapter 2

The old estate was the one place in Miles Farley's heart that no one was ever allowed to touch.

People in our circle always laughed that I couldn't live without Miles Farley.

The truth is, they weren't wrong.

They were the kind of women who had been born with silver spoons in their mouths.

Even if they walked away from a man, there was always a family and a company standing behind them.

But I had nothing.

I was only a scholarship girl supported by the Farley Charitable Foundation.

At eighteen, I graduated top of my class and was accepted to one of the best universities in the country, and the Farleys invited me to their estate.

It was on that very day that Miles Farley's mother, Mrs. Farley, the woman every soul in Manhattan envied, threw herself from the roof, unable to bear the humiliation inflicted by her husband's mistress.

She came crashing down from that height.

Her blood splattered across both my face and Miles's.

That was how Miles Farley came to develop severe psychological problems.

He couldn't stand anything red, and he couldn't bear the sound of something heavy hitting the ground.

Every night, the moment he closed his eyes, he dreamed of his mother lying before him, drenched in blood.

He smashed every mirror in his bedroom, and he refused to set foot in the old estate ever again.

Old Mr. Farley brought in doctor after doctor, and none of it worked.

In the end, he came to me and begged.

"Maggie, you're the only one. When you're beside him, Miles can finally quiet down, even if it's just for a while."

"I want you to stay. Please, keep him company."

Maybe it was because we had been through the same nightmare together.

Miles Farley trusted me.

He quietly allowed me to stay by his side.

My heart ached for that pale, fragile boy.

And I was grateful for everything the Farleys had done for me.

I wanted to do whatever I could.

When Miles couldn't sleep, I sat by his bed and stayed with him, night after night.

When Miles couldn't eat, I pored over recipes and cooked porridge and meals for him.

When he jolted awake in the middle of the night, I held his hand and sat with him until dawn.

In those years, there was no Emma beside us, none of the scheming and tangled interests that came later.

Only him and me.

Like two animals trapped in the dark.

Clinging to each other just to survive.

I knew that a girl of my background could never become Mrs. Farley.

And yet.

When Miles's fingers ran through my hair.

When our lips met and he whispered that he loved me.

When he spent a fortune buying up every flower in the city for me.

I still couldn't stop a faint, small hope from taking root in my heart.

That hope lasted right up until the day of my twenty-fifth birthday.

In the quiet that followed, Miles Farley suddenly reached over and pinched the soft flesh around my waist.

He lounged against the headboard and let out a quiet laugh.

"Maggie, you've put on weight."

"Keep neglecting your figure like this, and next month you might not get your money."

My mind went blank, a ringing filling my ears.

In an instant I went from heaven straight to hell.

That was when it finally hit me.

No matter how good Miles Farley was to me.

No matter how deep my feelings for him ran.

In his eyes, I was only a mistress who sold her body, someone who would never be fit to stand beside him in public.

He would never love a woman like me.

And he would certainly never truly be with me.

Beyond that, I also knew Miles Farley would never let me go.

The eldest Farley heir was a domineering man by nature.

Whatever he didn't want, he still wouldn't allow anyone else to touch.

I refused to keep sinking into a relationship with no end in sight.

I had to find myself a way out before he grew sick of me for good.

That was when Emma caught my eye.

She was vibrant, striking, and immediately caught Miles Farley's attention.

I made sure to drop the right hints, gradually turning her into exactly the kind of woman Miles Farley was most drawn to.