Chapter 1

Roman Vale ended our marriage before the anniversary cake was cut.

We had been married five years. I had spent the afternoon checking flowers, changing the seating cards his mother disliked, and making sure the private ballroom at the Vale Grand looked exactly the way Roman wanted. By nine that night, half the city seemed to be there—investors, judges, hotel owners, men who never appeared in newspapers but still made other people lower their voices.

Roman stood beneath the lights with a glass in his hand.

I expected a toast.

Instead, he looked past me and said, "There's something I need to make public tonight. Elara and I are ending our marriage."

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Serena Kane stepped out from behind him.

She wore ivory. One hand rested low over her stomach, and Roman placed his hand over hers as if the gesture had been practiced. The small movement told me more than his announcement had.

Serena was pregnant.

Roman waited until the whispers spread through the room before adding the part that changed them into applause.

"Serena is Alessandro Moretti's missing granddaughter."

I knew the Moretti name the way everyone in the city did. Moretti Holdings owned hotels, port facilities, real estate, security companies, and enough of the waterfront that reporters used careful words when they wrote about the family. Roman's family had money and influence, but the Morettis had something older: power.

Someone near me whispered, "That's why he did it."

Another woman answered, not quite quietly enough, "Can you blame him?"

I kept my hands folded in front of me. If I moved, I was afraid they would shake.

Serena crossed the room through the congratulations and stopped beside me. Her smile stayed pleasant because people were watching.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way," she said.

Then she leaned closer.

"Roman needed a real family eventually."

She straightened before I could answer and raised her voice. "I hope there won't be bad feelings between us. Roman wants to be fair about the divorce."

Fair.

I had met Roman when I was twenty-three and working two jobs while finishing night classes. I had no parents, no last name that opened doors, and no relatives to call when something went wrong. He had told me none of that mattered.

His mother had never agreed.

Margaret Vale appeared beside me now, neat and calm in dark silk. She looked almost relieved.

"You knew this marriage was never a good fit," she said. "Please don't embarrass yourself tonight."

I looked past her at Roman.

He had finally noticed me watching him. For a moment, something uncomfortable crossed his face.

"Five years," I said. "Did any of it matter to you?"

Serena slipped her arm through his before he answered.

Roman looked toward the crowd, then back at me. "The papers will be sent tomorrow. Take the settlement and let this end quietly."

The agreement had been signed before our courthouse wedding because Margaret believed a woman with no family needed limits written down in advance. At twenty-three, I had thought that was insulting but harmless.

Now I understood what it had been for.

I looked at Roman one last time.

"I hope she gives you what you chose her for."

Then I left.

Nobody stopped me. That hurt more than it should have.

Outside, cold air cleared the perfume and champagne from my head. My coat was still upstairs, but I could not make myself go back for it.

My phone rang before I reached the curb.

Unknown number.

I almost ignored it.

"Ms. Voss?" an older man asked when I answered. "My name is Victor Bennett. I'm an attorney. I've been trying to locate you for a very long time."

"You have the wrong person."

"I don't think I do."

A black sedan pulled away from the hotel entrance. Through the glass doors behind me, I could still see people raising glasses to Serena.

"What is this about?"

There was a pause on the line.

"Your family."

I stopped walking.

"I don't have one."

"You did," he said gently. "And one member of it is still alive."

The city noise seemed to move farther away.

I had entered foster care at six with no documents anyone could trust and almost no memory of the years before it. I knew only what the home had told me: there had been an accident, my parents were dead, and nobody had come for me.

Mr. Bennett continued, "Your grandfather has spent nineteen years looking for you."

I pressed the phone harder to my ear.

"Who is he?"

When Victor Bennett told me the name, I turned back toward the hotel.

Inside, Roman Vale was celebrating his future with the woman everyone believed was Alessandro Moretti's lost granddaughter.

And I could no longer feel the cold.