Chapter 3

Saturday arrived. The charity gala.

I pulled out the dress I'd bought months ago — a simple black gown, elegant but understated. I'd chosen it because Ethan once said he didn't like women who "tried too hard."

I was doing my makeup when Elena knocked on my bedroom door, already dressed in a stunning red Oscar de la Renta gown, diamonds dripping from her ears.

"Claire, do you have a curling iron? Mine broke." She glanced at my dress hanging on the door. "Oh, is that what you're wearing?"

"Yes."

She smiled sympathetically. "It's very... classic. You know what, I have a necklace that might elevate it. Want to borrow it?"

"No, thank you."

At the gala, Ethan offered Elena his arm as they walked in. I followed three steps behind, like staff.

His mother, Victoria Cole, was holding court near the champagne tower. She spotted us immediately — or rather, she spotted Elena.

"Elena, darling!" Victoria embraced her warmly. "Look at you, more beautiful every time. Paris has been good to you."

Then she noticed me.

"Claire." A curt nod. "Try not to embarrass the family tonight."

Victoria had never approved of the contract marriage. She'd wanted Elena for her son all along. She made that clear at every family dinner, every holiday, every pointed comparison.

"Elena studied at the Sorbonne." "Elena speaks four languages." "Elena's family owns half of Seoul's fashion district."

And Claire? Claire was the charity case Grandpa Cole dragged in.

During dinner, I was seated at the far end of the table while Elena sat between Ethan and Victoria, laughing, glowing, belonging.

A waiter approached me. "Mrs. Cole, can I get you anything?"

Before I could answer, Victoria's voice carried across the table. "She's not really a Cole. Don't waste the good champagne."

A few guests chuckled nervously. Ethan said nothing.

Elena leaned over and whispered something to Ethan. He nodded and stood up.

"Everyone, I'd like to make a toast." He raised his glass. "To Elena Park, who's just been named Creative Director of Maison Luxe Paris. We're all incredibly proud of her."

Applause. Cheers. Elena blushed prettily.

No one noticed me slip away from the table.

I found a quiet balcony overlooking the city and pressed my hands against the cold railing.

My phone buzzed. An email from the Architecture Grand Prix committee.

"Dear Ms. Ashford, we are pleased to inform you that your submission, 'Project Meridian,' has been selected as one of three finalists. The winner will be announced at the Global Design Summit in London next month. Congratulations."

A finalist.

Out of 12,000 entries worldwide, I was one of three.

I read the email three times, my heart pounding.

For a moment, just a moment, I wanted to run inside and tell someone. Tell Ethan.

Then I heard his voice drifting from inside.

"Elena, save me a dance?"

I closed the email and put my phone away.

Not yet.

Back inside, the dancing had started. Ethan and Elena were waltzing in the center of the floor, and guests were whispering.

"Aren't they perfect together?"

"I heard the wife is just a contractual arrangement."

"Poor thing. She must know she's temporary."

A woman I didn't recognize approached me. "You must be Claire. I'm Diana Walsh, editor-in-chief of Architectural Digest."

I blinked. "I — yes, I'm Claire."

"I've been following the Grand Prix finalists. Your submission is extraordinary. 'Project Meridian' is the most innovative sustainable design I've seen in a decade." She handed me her card. "I'd love to do a feature. Call me."

Before I could respond, Ethan appeared at my side, slightly out of breath from dancing.

"Claire, my mother wants a family photo. Come on."

He didn't introduce himself to Diana. Didn't ask who she was or what we were discussing.

I took Diana's card and slipped it into my clutch.

In the photo, Ethan stood between me and Elena. His hand was on Elena's waist.

His hand wasn't touching me at all.

After the gala, in the car ride home, Elena sat in the front seat. I sat in the back.

Elena turned around with a sweet smile. "Claire, you disappeared for a while tonight. Everything okay?"

"Just needed some air."

"You know," Elena said softly, glancing at Ethan, "I told Ethan he should pay more attention to you. You looked so lonely sitting by yourself."

Ethan's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Elena continued, "If I had a husband like Ethan, I'd never let him out of my sight." She laughed lightly. "But I guess your arrangement is... different."

The car fell silent.

When we got home, I went straight to my room.

Through the wall, I heard Ethan and Elena talking in the living room, their voices low and intimate.

Then Elena's voice, loud enough to carry: "Ethan, do you think Claire suspects anything about us?"

I pressed my ear to the wall.

Ethan's reply was quiet, but I caught every word.

"It doesn't matter. In three months, it'll all be over."

I placed both hands on my stomach.

Three months.

We'll see about that.