Neither of them spoke. The only sounds were chopsticks against bowls and the quiet hum of the refrigerator.It was the most awkward and electrically charged dinner Elena had ever experienced.Meanwhile, the Carver house sat in darkness when Simon's Maserati pulled into the driveway. Sophia stormed out before the car fully stopped, her crimson gown wrinkled, her carefully styled hair disheveled from running her hands through it in frustration during the silent drive home.Margaret met them at the door, her face bright with expectation. "Well? Did Elena give you the role? Did that lobby manager apologize for throwing me out?"Sophia's expression changed dramatically, her face twisting with barely controlled emotion. She pushed past her mother into the living room, kicking off her heels with violent force that sent them skittering across the marble floor."Mother," she said, her voice hollow. "That 'lobby manager' was Elena Sterling."The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Marg

James studied the old man's face for a long moment, noting the quiet dignity beneath the physical deterioration. The question hung between them like a held breath."Yes," James said finally. "There's a way."The young woman's head snapped up, hope and suspicion warring across her features. "You're lying. Every specialist in the country has examined Grandfather. They all said the same thing—there's nothing they can do."James kept his gaze on the old man. "They were right, using their methods, but I don't use their methods."The old man's eyes sharpened with interest. "What methods do you use, young man?""Techniques passed down through my family, ancient healing arts that modern medicine has forgotten." James glanced at the tremor in the old man's hands. "Your condition is advanced, but not irreversible. Not yet.""This is ridiculous," the granddaughter said, her voice climbing. "Grandfather, he's clearly a charlatan trying to take advantage—""Victoria." The old man's voice was soft

The bridal boutique smelled of champagne and lilies. Sophia stood on a raised platform before a three-way mirror. The dress was perfect—off-shoulder, fitted bodice, a train that pooled behind her in elegant waves. It had cost more than most people's cars."Oh, darling, you look absolutely stunning!" Margaret dabbed at her eyes with a silk handkerchief, though the tears seemed more theatrical than genuine. "My beautiful daughter, finally getting the wedding she deserves."Simon sat in a velvet chair nearby, champagne flute in hand, playing his role to perfection. "You're breathtaking, Sophia. Saturday can't come soon enough."Sophia turned in front of the mirrors, watching the dress move with her. Yes, this was the one. This was the dress that would make everyone gasp when she walked down the aisle. The dress that would make James realize exactly what he'd lost.Because he would be there. She'd made sure of it. Her invitation had been deliberate and pointed—she wanted him to see her ma

Elena stood in front of her full-length mirror, adjusting the drape of her midnight blue dress. It hugged her figure perfectly. She'd chosen it deliberately, but not trying too hard."Are you sure about this?" she called to James, who was in the guest room changing. "We could always skip it. Tell them I had a work emergency.""Running away isn't your style," James's voice came back, and she heard the smile in it.Elena had invited him to a business dinner—or so she'd said. In truth, Marcus had organized a gathering at Celestine, one of the city's most exclusive restaurants, to introduce Elena to potential investors. She'd asked James to accompany her, citing the need for moral support, though both of them knew it was more than that.What she hadn't mentioned was that Celestine was also where Sophia had chosen to hold her rehearsal dinner. Elena had only learned that this morning, and by then James had already agreed to come. Telling him now felt like manipulation, so she'd stayed quie

James stood before the mirror, adjusting the collar of his charcoal suit. The fabric was expensive, far more expensive than anything he'd owned during his marriage to Sophia. The man staring back at him looked nothing like the downtrodden son-in-law who used to cook and clean while being treated as less than furniture."Here, let me."Elena appeared beside him, her fingers already reaching for his tie. She wore an elegant navy dress that made her look every inch the Sterling heiress, but her touch was gentle, almost hesitant."I can do it myself," James said, though he didn't pull away."I know you can." Elena's hands worked the silk into a perfect Windsor knot. "But humor me."Their eyes met in the mirror. The intimacy of the moment—her standing so close, her fingers at his throat, the quiet morning light filtering through the villa windows—made James's chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the tie."There." Elena smoothed the knot, her hands lingering a fraction longer