Chapter 1

I was drawing on the street with my daughter, trying to make a little money, when a tourist started giving us a hard time. I kept my head down, quietly bent to pick up the two bills they'd thrown, wiped off the water spots, and tucked them into Mia's small, red, frozen hands.

"Mom, your hand is bleeding," Mia whispered.

She dug a Band-Aid out of our worn-out backpack, opened it up with practiced fingers. "Here, put this on. It's too windy."

A group of punks sauntered over, whistling.

Suddenly, a car pulled up. The door opened, and Julian Thorne stepped out.

He was wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal cashmere coat, Italian leather boots spotless, looking almost absurdly out of place in this grimy neighborhood.

The punks clearly knew better. Maybe it was Julian's presence, but they muttered curses and scattered fast.

Julian didn't bother with them. His eyes were locked on my messy hair and cheap winter coat.

"Are you done with this, Elara?" Julian's voice was low, commanding. "Is this the life you left me for? You'd rather let Mia suffer out here, getting humiliated by trash, than come home?"

I dusted myself off, feeling nothing but emptiness inside.

"What do you want, Julian?" I asked.

"Let's get remarried," he said bluntly, like he was doing me a favor. "This has gone on long enough. Mia needs her father. I know you're still angry, but if you come back, I'll give you everything you want."

He seemed to be waiting for me to explode, to scream at him like I did two years ago, or cry and ask about Sienna.

But I just blinked, glanced at Mia's lips, turning blue from the cold.

"Okay," I said softly.

Julian froze, clearly not expecting me to give in so easily. All the speeches he'd prepared caught in his throat.

He looked almost empty for a second, but then decided I'd finally come to my senses.

A few hours later, we signed the papers. That was it.

No ring, no flowers, not even a single loving word. We were married again, just like that.

Julian drove us out of crowded Brooklyn himself.

The car was warm. Mia fell asleep in the back seat, breathing steady, while I leaned against the window, watching the city blur by.

When we passed the exit for our old house on Long Island and Julian didn't even slow down, I stayed silent.

He seemed awkward, finally explaining, "Sienna didn't like the way that house was decorated, so I sold it and bought a new one."

That was our old home.

I'd picked every color, every chandelier, even the spot for the hydrangeas in the garden. I'd spent countless nights with the blueprints, pouring my heart into that place.

The air felt heavy.

Julian held his breath.

He knew what that house meant to me.

Once, I'd lost it over Sienna breaking one of my hand-painted vases. Now he'd erased my whole home, just to please her.

But I just smiled, soft and polite.

"That's fine."

Julian whipped his head toward me, disbelief in his eyes.

"You're not angry?" he blurted out, his voice shaky. "You spent years on that house."

"It doesn't matter, Julian." I cut him off gently, as if soothing a stubborn child. "If Sienna didn't like it, then it's fine to move on. Wherever we live is fine with me, as long as there's a bed."

Julian's face went rigid.

He awkwardly turned to the back seat, where Mia was just waking up.

"Mia, Daddy needs to apologize," Julian cleared his throat. "We're moving to a new house. The toys you left at the old place... Leo—Aunt Sienna's son—he broke them and threw them out. But Daddy will buy you new ones, even better ones, okay?"

Among those toys was the unicorn I'd sewn by hand, Mia's favorite, the one she used to sleep with every night.

Julian waited for tears, for any sign of upset.

But Mia, with eyes so much like mine, just looked at him, calm and empty.

"It's okay, Daddy," Mia said softly, her voice sweet but cold. "Those were just old things. I don't play with them anymore."

Julian froze behind the wheel.

When the car stopped, I took Mia's hand and got out.

The streetlights stretched our shadows long across the sidewalk.

Julian stayed in the driver's seat, staring at our backs, and for a moment, he shivered.