Chapter 1

"This villa is my gift to Miss Vivian Lynn."

Under the camera flashes, Ethan Finch's voice carried through the speakers and filled the entire venue.

He stood before the home I had spent three years designing, the home I had built for us, his gaze soft as it settled on the girl in the white dress standing below the stage.

I clenched my fists.

That night, he pushed open the door and walked in, his tone matter-of-fact. "Vivian's brother took a bullet for me. She's having a depressive episode. It's just a house. Can't you be a little more gracious about it?"

"But that was our home."

"When did you become so cold-hearted?"

I looked into his eyes, and suddenly I started to laugh.

Seven years of love, and it all came down to him asking me to just let her have it.

That night, I packed every last one of my things and deleted every photo of him from my phone.

Ethan Finch, this time I'm not letting it go.

Natalie Smith POV

Everyone said that Ethan Finch, heir to one of New York's most powerful financial dynasties, loved me to his core.

He had stayed by my side for seven years and loved me for seven years. Even when the edge of a blueprint nicked my finger, he would spend half the day with that cold, worried look on his face, ready to throw every sharp object within ten feet of me straight out the window.

And yet this man, the one who had placed me at the very center of his world, was the same man who just destroyed three years of my life's work.

New York. The ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new villa development blazed with camera flashes as bright as daylight.

I stood below the stage and quietly watched the man up there, composed, sharp in his tailored suit, carrying himself with that cool, aristocratic ease that had always belonged to him.

That villa was my life's work. Three years of late nights drafting plans and overseeing construction. I designed it to be our home. Every brick, every beam, and every oak tree in the courtyard had been chosen for Ethan.

I stood there full of hope, waiting for him to announce that this was our future home.

Instead, Ethan took the microphone, and his gaze swept over the crowd before landing on the frail girl in the white dress sitting in the front row.

"This project," he said, his voice low and steady as it rolled through the speakers, "is my gift to Miss Vivian Lynn. I hope the peace and natural beauty of this place will support her recovery from depression."

The room erupted.

A wave of probing, pitying, and gleefully curious stares cut toward me all at once.

My mind went blank. It felt like all the blood in my body had been drained in an instant. My hands and feet went cold.

Vivian Lynn. The younger sister of Ethan's late comrade.

Six months ago, Vivian had attempted to take her own life during a severe depressive episode. Ethan had brought her into his care immediately. And from that point on, a shadow had crept into every corner of my world.

Backstage, in the green room.

I watched Ethan push open the door and walk in. My voice came out raw and tight. "Why?"

Ethan tugged at his tie, a faint crease forming between his brows. There was a trace of exhaustion in his voice, and something that sounded almost like entitlement.

"Vivian had another episode last night. Her doctor said she needs a quiet, natural environment to recover. This villa's design is perfect for her."

"That was our home!" I stared him down, my eyes burning red. "Ethan, I stayed up night after night. I put everything into that house. I designed it for you. For us. How could you just hand it over to her like it was nothing?"

"Natalie, can you just be reasonable for once?" Ethan's expression hardened, his voice going cold. "Vivian's brother took three bullets to save my life. If it weren't for him, I'd be dead. She's seriously ill. You're my wife. Are you really going to fight her over a house?"

"Just a house?" I almost laughed, but my tears fell instead.

A house. As if that's all it was.

The master bedroom faced south because he loved the morning light. The study had triple soundproofing because even the smallest noise drove him crazy when he was working. Even the kitchen counter was built to a custom height so it would be comfortable for him when he occasionally felt like cooking for me.

And now, with a few offhand words, he had given away every bit of love I had poured into that place, and handed it to another woman.

"We have properties all over the city," I said, my voice shaking. "Any one of them could give her the environment she needs. Why does it have to be this one?"

Ethan stepped forward and placed his hands on my shoulders. His tone softened slightly, but the condescension never left. "Vivian saw the design plans. She fell in love with them. Natalie, you're a talented architect. You can design another house. But Vivian only has one life. Just let her have this one. Okay?"

Just let her have this one. Okay?

I had heard those words more times than I could count in the past six months.

Vivian was scared of thunderstorms, so on a night when I was burning up with a fever, Ethan left me to go be with her. Vivian couldn't stand restaurant food, so Ethan reassigned our housekeeper of ten years to Vivian's apartment.

And now Vivian had taken a liking to something I had built with my own hands, so I was supposed to step aside again.

I looked at that face, so familiar and yet suddenly a stranger, and felt something in my chest being carved apart by a dull blade, slow and deliberate, until even breathing tasted like blood.

"And if I don't?" I held his gaze, refusing to look away.

Ethan's patience snapped. He let go of my shoulders, and his eyes went flat. "I already announced it publicly. There's nothing to reverse. Natalie, don't make me think you're heartless."

He turned and walked out without looking back.

From the hallway, Vivian's soft, trembling voice drifted in. "Ethan, is Natalie upset? I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. I don't want the villa anymore..."

"It's not your fault. She's just being stubborn." Ethan's voice was warm, gentle in a way I hadn't heard him speak to me in a long time. "Come on, let me take you to dinner."

Their footsteps faded down the hall.

I stood alone in the empty green room, staring at my own pale face in the mirror, and thought: seven years of loving this man, and it had all become one enormous joke.