The Jilted Heiress's Dazzling Phoenix Rebirth

Care

e, just out of sight behind a thick velvet curtain in the grand ballroom of our Hamptons estate. I was supposed to be walking in t

e center of attention, a playboy. His charm drew people in, especially women. He moved through relationships with an effortless grace, discarding them when they no longer amused him. He never took any of them seriously. Each time h

ide, his voice low, a flicker of something I mistook for earnestness in his eyes. He talked about family pressures, about the merger our parents so desperately wanted. He called it a "relationship of convenience." He said it wo

risingly firm. "I'm serious abou

. I had two choices: walk away and lose him forever, or agree and risk everything for a chance at a different ki

ver. Forever. There's no coming back from that." The words were a desperate plea, a boundary

" He squeezed my hand again, then pulled me closer. "You're my best friend, my family. You always have been. You always will be." His words

alas, took vacations, shared intimate dinners. From the outside, we were the perfect power

ned to bring him – his favorite flavor, a surprise from his beloved fiancée. I froze in the sh

elief. "Are you serious, Javen? You didn't

t to mention it?" His tone was dismissive, as if forgetting to tell h

loor. The ice cream cone sagged in my hand, a path

"You've been engaged to Holly for three years! What about her? What about us

k, it's not complicated. Keely is my g

much time with lately, always under the guise of "mentoring." My own family had concerns about her, her err

cension. "A business deal. You know how my parents are. And Holly... she' s always had a thing f

ntly indulging. Granting me the status of his fiancée was a favor in his eyes, a kind gesture from a king to a devoted

arryl asked, a hint of something in his voice I could

ld say something, anything, to soften the blow. Perhaps a flicker of genuine affection, a conf

There' s no spark. There never was." He chuckled again, a cruel sound that twisted my gut. "You know my type. The fragile, misunderstood artist.

care of, legally, financially. She's going to be a part of my life forever." He made it sound like a guarantee, a reassurance, b

the sensible friend, was nothing but a convenient object in Javen Sullivan's life. A piece on his chessboard. How pathetically naive I had been to think his kindness, his shared laughter, his casual touches, meant anything more. How utterly p