Chapter 2

The slip of paper felt incredibly heavy in my hand.

I followed the courier's scribbled directions through the winding streets of London.

Slowly, the neighborhood changed. The grime and noise of the city faded away.

It was replaced by pristine sidewalks, manicured hedges, and tall wrought-iron gates.

I was in Mayfair. It was one of the most exclusive and expensive neighborhoods in the entire city.

I stood across the street from the address the courier had given me. It was a massive, ultra-luxury townhouse. The white stone facade gleamed even in the gloomy weather. Tall windows glowed with warm light from inside.

I stood on the pavement like a ghost.

The freezing rain soaked through my thin coat and plastered my hair to my face. I shivered uncontrollably, but the cold outside was nothing compared to the ice forming in my chest.

A sleek black Bentley pulled up to the driveway.

My breath hitched. I stepped back into the shadow of a large oak tree. The driver's side door opened. A man stepped out into the rain.

It was Reese.

But it was not the Reese I knew. He was not wearing the cheap, frayed sweaters I had bought for him. He was dressed in a bespoke designer suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly.

A heavy luxury watch glinted on his wrist as he adjusted his cuffs. He looked incredibly wealthy.

He looked powerful and confident. He did not look like a struggling medical intern who needed my diner tips to survive.

He walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger door. A woman stepped out.

It was Chloe. My childhood best friend.

The heavy front door of the townhouse swung open. A little boy ran out onto the covered porch.

He looked about four years old. He had Reese's dark hair and Chloe's bright, expressive eyes.

"Daddy!" the boy squealed.

Reese laughed. He scooped the boy into his arms and kissed his cheek.

Then he leaned over and kissed Chloe passionately on the lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, looking like the picture-perfect wife.

An older woman walked past them on the sidewalk, holding a large umbrella.

"Happy fifth anniversary, you two!" the neighbor called out cheerfully.

"Thank you, Margaret!" Chloe replied with a bright, ringing laugh.

My world completely shattered.

Five years. They had been married for five years. They had a four-year-old child. All while I was working double shifts to pay for his fake tuition.

All while I was sleeping in a freezing apartment, dreaming of the day we would finally be together. Every phone call, every text message, every excuse was a calculated lie.

I stumbled backward. My chest heaved violently.

A violent panic attack seized my body. The ground seemed to tilt beneath my feet. I turned and ran.

I stumbled blindly down the wet pavement. I was hyperventilating and sobbing uncontrollably.

My vision blurred with hot tears and freezing rain. I needed to get out of the cold. I needed to hide before I collapsed on the street.

I stopped at a small street cart on the corner and shoved a crumpled bill at the vendor.

I grabbed a cup of scalding black coffee just to thaw my freezing, numb fingers.

I clutched the paper cup to my chest and kept walking.

I saw a set of grand glass doors up ahead. I did not care what the building was. I just needed shelter.

I pushed through the heavy revolving doors into the lobby of a luxury hotel. The air inside was warm and smelled of expensive cedar and citrus. I kept my head down. I was crying too hard to see straight. I just wanted to find a quiet corner to fall apart.

I took three hurried steps into the lobby. I was not looking where I was going. I crashed hard into a wall of solid muscle.

The impact knocked the breath out of me. The lid of my paper cup popped off. Scalding hot coffee splashed everywhere. I gasped and looked up.

The dark coffee dripped down the front of his custom-tailored white suit. It was completely ruined.

Strong hands grabbed my arms instantly. Two massive security guards materialized out of nowhere.

"Hey! Watch where you are going," one guard barked. "Get her out of here immediately."

They yanked me backward. My purse slipped from my shoulder and hit the marble floor. The contents spilled everywhere. My keys, my cheap wallet, and a crumpled photograph scattered across the polished stone. It was a picture of Reese and me from eight years ago. We were smiling and holding hands.

I was crying too hard to speak. I struggled weakly against the guards.

"Stop," a deep, commanding voice echoed through the lobby.

The guards froze. They instantly released my arms and stepped back.

I looked up at the man I had just spilled coffee on. He was breathtakingly handsome, with a sharp jawline and piercing, ice-cold eyes.

He did not even glance at his ruined suit. His intense gaze was fixed on the marble floor. He was looking at the crumpled photograph of Reese.

"Bring her to my penthouse," he ordered his guards. "She and I have a mutual problem."