Chapter 1

One week before the wedding, my boyfriend Lowell Sanchez and I were lying in bed playing a drawing game.

Whoever drew the red slip had to tell the other a secret they didn't know.

Lowell drew it.

He looked into my eyes and smiled, gentle as ever.

"I was going to tell you in a couple of days, but this is as good a time as any."

He said each word slowly.

"I'm getting married."

I froze, then let out a small laugh.

"Right. Next week is our—"

"Not to you."

The smile stiffened on my face.

My mind went blank.

"What do you mean? I waited eight whole years for you!"

He stroked my hair the way he always did, his voice apologetic.

"The company's in trouble. I have to marry the Pruitt daughter. Her family is the only one that can help us."

"I swear, the one I love will always be you."

I looked down at the empty right sleeve hanging there.

Years ago, in a car accident, I'd shielded him, and I lost my whole right arm because of it.

I still remembered how he'd once held me and cried and swore:

"From now on, I'll take care of you for the rest of your life."

So it turned out marrying someone else also counted as taking care of me for life.

…

"Don't be too upset about it. It's just a business marriage. Once I get through this stretch, I'll come straight back and marry you. All right?"

Lowell's voice was impossibly gentle, and my whole body went cold.

"You did so much for the company back then. You don't want it to go under either, do you?"

I sat there, stunned.

Years ago Lowell and I had started the company together. In the worst days we ate one meal not knowing where the next would come from.

In the end I was the one who led us through a big contract, and the company slowly got on its feet.

"So this is no different from every other decision we made back at the company. It's all for the company, for our future."

He was still watching me with a smile, an endless tenderness in his eyes.

But he'd forgotten that back when we were starting out, even at a dinner table with drinks, he would deliberately leave an empty seat between himself and any other woman.

He used to say:

"The company is the company. I'm not going to let it make my sweet Janice Fox jealous."

And now he wanted to go to a wedding for the company.

I drew a deep breath and made myself stay calm:

"Then what about our wedding next week?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. The venue stays the same venue. We just change the name."

Change the name.

So a wedding I'd looked forward to for eight years could be swapped out in the time it took to say one sentence.

I looked at Lowell. Those eyes were still as full of feeling as they'd been all those years ago.

But in the end, the person had changed.

"If you marry her, then we're done."

Lowell paused, confusion flickering in his eyes.

"Don't be like this. I know it's hard for you to take right now, and I should have told you sooner. But all of this is for the company, I swear."

He raised his right hand, four fingers straight, making the gesture of a vow.

It was exactly the same gesture as the one he'd made the year I lost my arm, when he'd sworn to me.

But that vow had already been broken.

When I said nothing, his voice turned cold:

"Janice, you're not so young anymore, and you're missing an arm on top of that. Without me, once you leave the company, you'd probably—"

He didn't finish, but I knew what he meant.

Just then his phone buzzed. A text message.

He glanced at it and said to me:

"Something's come up at the company. I'm going to step out and deal with it."

I looked around the empty room and suddenly remembered the way he used to be, so set on building the company up.

Back then, I'd poured everything I had into helping him.

I remembered one time the company closed a big contract, and I'd said to him, happy:

"This is enough for us to live on for the rest of our lives. From now on we can live the way we want to."

He'd paused, then smiled and said:

"True. You've worked hard through all this. Go home and rest first. I still have a meeting to get to."

That was when I understood that the one who'd really cared about the company all these years had never been me. It was him.

I put down my phone, then picked it up again, and after a long hesitation, I finally dialed that number.