Chapter 1

The night before the wedding, my fiancé and I were kissing like we couldn't bear to let go.

I was still lost in it when Preston suddenly stopped.

He looked at me, dead serious. "Dora, Silvia Summers and I are together now."

Silvia. My best friend.

"She's cold and proud. You're sharp-tongued and fiery. The two of you are ice and fire, each with your own charm."

"So here are your two choices. One, you marry me in secret and let Silvia be my wife in the eyes of the world. Two, you step aside, I marry Silvia, and you become my mistress."

I looked at Preston like he was a stranger.

The man who had once been humble and deferential toward me, who had treated me with such careful respect, and the very first thing he did after gaining that towering power was to humiliate me.

I said only two words. "I'm out."

Not out of your marriage. Out of your world, Preston Carver.

...

Preston was pleased with my answer.

He crossed his legs, the ember of his cigarette flaring and dimming between his fingers, and the corner of his mouth curved into a handsome line.

"Dora, don't worry. I won't shortchange you."

"The only thing I can't give you is a title. Anything else you want, it's yours."

"Does that include my freedom?"

Preston didn't catch it. "What?"

His phone rang. It was Silvia.

I took out my own phone and replied to the Milan headquarters.

【Mr. Powell, I accept. I'll develop my career over there. I leave in three days.】

Preston hung up and drove me to the villa we had once viewed together.

Back then, we were both running around looking for a house for the wedding.

The first time I saw that villa, something in me recoiled from it, but Silvia had loved it.

I never imagined that behind my back, Preston had bought it for her.

The front door stood open. Silvia was in a purple satin nightgown, water still beading down from her bath, sliding along the pale line of her collarbone.

She looked mildly puzzled. "Preston, what are you doing here?"

Then she rose on her toes and kissed his cheek.

Preston smiled and slid an arm around her slender waist, tipped up her chin, and kissed her.

Color rose on that cold, striking face of hers.

She quickly took control, climbing up around his waist, answering his kiss with her own heat.

I had never seen this side of her, so uninhibited, so alluring.

The contrast was extreme.

Bang! I slammed the car door. The two of them froze, their eyes turning toward me at the same time.

"Dora? What are you doing here?"

Silvia wasn't surprised. Her voice was calm enough to chill me to the bone.

Preston answered for her. "I've already laid it all out for her. I promised you a title, and I'll give you one."

"You once said your greatest wish in this life was to wear a wedding gown made by Dora Walter, to be sent off in it."

"Of course I can't let that wish go unfulfilled."

At last I understood why he had brought me here.

While I measured Silvia's figure, the vanity mirror caught the curve of her lips.

Her voice carried a hint of superiority. "You know, I never really meant to wreck the two of you. Back then I just made an offhand joke, said that if he had the nerve to lay it all on the table, I'd marry him."

She laughed softly, twice. "I didn't think he'd actually do it."

"Mm."

I answered lightly, like it was nothing.

But the hand measuring her waist stayed frozen in the air, and my tears fell, splashing onto the floor.

Seeing I had no real reaction, Silvia's mood soured.

"All right, you're done measuring. What style of gown do you want?"

She thought for a long moment, then looked at me with a sneer. "The one your mother made for you."

That was my late mother's proudest work.

It was also the thing she made me promise, on her deathbed, to keep safe.

I refused without a second thought.

"Not unless I'm dead. Don't even dream about it!"

"What Silvia wants isn't yours to decide."

Preston had appeared from somewhere, his voice gone cold.