Chapter 1

Right before our divorce, I was still stuck in postpartum recovery, drowning in severe postpartum depression.

My husband, Julian, was nowhere to be found.

Later, I found out that during the three months he was gone, he was traveling the country with his mistress.

Once my heart completely broke, I signed the divorce papers without a second thought.

Julian didn't hesitate either—he took our son and walked away.

I smiled, finally feeling relieved.

It was nice. Neither of us would rot in our past or in a false dream.

Yet, after I vanished from their lives, they were the ones who regretted it.

When they showed up in this sleepy northern town, begging me to come back, I just said:

"I don't want you anymore. Keeping this up is just pathetic."

On my birthday, Leo bought me an exquisite cake with the money he made from the corner store he managed. Along with it was a stunning vintage silk dress.

I froze for a moment.

This was the first gift he had ever given me.

And that was when it hit me.

A whole year had passed since I left Chicago.

On my birthday last year, my biological son, Toby, had thrown a massive tantrum, demanding to go to the amusement park.

Julian was away on a business trip, so I had to take him alone.

Toby ran all over the place like an untethered balloon.

I laughed, hurrying after him. "Slow down, Toby! Watch out!"

"You're so annoying, Mom!"

Toby made a goofy face at me and sprinted straight into the crosswalk.

Right at that moment, an SUV ran a red light, speeding too fast to stop. Without even thinking, I dropped everything, lunged forward, and shoved him out of the way.

I was hurled fifteen feet through the air.

When I woke up from that nightmare in the ICU, both Julian and Toby were standing by my bedside. The knot in my chest finally loosened.

I lifted my trembling hand to touch Toby's cheek, but he took a step back, hiding behind Julian's legs.

My hand hung frozen in midair.

Julian's freezing voice cut through the silence from above. "Why did you take him to the amusement park on your own?"

"Toby is the sole heir to the Vance family. What would have happened if he got hurt?"

I said nothing. I let my hand drop and looked down.

Just as I was about to defend myself, I realized my legs had zero sensation.

A creeping panic swept through me. I tried to move my feet, to flex a muscle—nothing.

Then Julian added coldly, "Your spine is ruined. You're paralyzed. You can't raise Toby like this. Chloe would make a much better mother for him."

"Really, Daddy?!" Toby tugged hard on Julian's coat, his little face lighting up.

"Yes."

I stared blankly at Toby. His eyes were sparkling with sheer excitement.

The very next words he spoke dropped me straight into an abyss.

"Can you divorce her already, then? I really miss Auntie Chloe!"

So, the son I had almost died delivering already had someone else picked out to be his mother.

All at once, the pain burned away, leaving behind pure numbness.

Fine. Let them have what they wanted. I walked away with nothing.

After leaving Chicago, I traveled alone to a remote, quiet town in northern Maine. I bought a small cottage with my remaining savings.

The locals were kind, warm, and welcoming.

I picked up my freelance writing again.

Being in a wheelchair had its challenges, and I inevitably needed help from time to time.

Even though my neighbors always smiled and said, "That's what neighbors are for," I still felt bad about bothering them.

I considered hiring a caregiver, but on my way into town one afternoon, I got mugged. Fortunately, a scruffy homeless teenager stepped in and fought the guy off.

He was fifteen, covered in dirt and bruises. Feeling both sympathy and a selfish need for company, I took him in.

I gave him a job as my assistant, and I paid him a proper wage.

He had no family, no records, not even a real name.

I gave him a name: Leo.

My name is Harper.