After taking photos, Asher handed back her phone, his expression carefully neutral. “You have a message.”

“Oh?”

Kimberly opened it, her face stiffening at Drake’s words. She knew message previews appeared automatically—Asher must have seen it. She glanced back at him nervously, explaining, “My ex. We’ve broken up.”

“I see.” Asher’s expression remained impassive, his eyes unreadable.

“I’ve blocked him on everything else—forgot about his number.”

Kimberly felt oddly flustered. She was twenty-five; having an ex-boyfriend was perfectly normal. Besides, she’d dated Drake before agreeing to the arrangement with Asher. She had nothing to feel guilty about. Realizing this, she calmed herself. “I’ll block him now.”

She did so immediately, with Asher watching.

“Trust me,” she added, “once I agreed to our arrangement, any past relationships became exactly that—past.”

Asher nodded, his dark eyes still inscrutable. But as Kimberly turned away, the faintest smile played at his lips.

After several days of exploring the city together, it was time to return to London. She hadn’t told her family she was coming home, so no one from the Jordan household was at the airport. Instead, Asher’s assistant met them with a black Rolls-Royce Cullinan.

“Shall I come in with you?” Asher asked as they pulled up to the Jordan estate.

Kimberly shook her head. “No need.”

“Alright.”

She stood at the gates, hesitating. Sensing her reluctance, Asher didn’t linger. Only after his car disappeared did Kimberly ring the bell. Three years ago, she’d left without her keys. Now she needed to be buzzed into her own home—the irony wasn’t lost on her.

Mrs. Clarke, their housekeeper of fifteen years, opened the door and froze. “Miss… Miss Kimberly? You’re home?” Her voice cracked with emotion.

Kimberly’s throat tightened as she nodded.

“Thank goodness. I’ll call your father right away.”

“He’s not here?”

“No, miss. He’s at the office. Your stepmother’s at Lucy’s school for a parent event.”

Kimberly exhaled in relief. She needed time to breathe before facing them all—her stepmother, half-sister, and the father she’d been at odds with for years. Each relationship was its own minefield.

Her bedroom remained exactly as she’d left it, immaculately maintained. Someone had clearly dusted daily.

After unpacking and showering, she heard Mrs. Clarke’s knock. “Miss Kimberly? What would you like for dinner?”

Kimberly opened the door with a slight smile. “The usual, please.”

“Of course!” Mrs. Clarke beamed, genuinely delighted. She’d watched Kimberly grow up, loving her like a daughter. She’d been the one to carry young Kimberly in from the snow the night Rosalind died.

When Ronald retreated into depression after Rosalind’s death, neglecting his daughter, Mrs. Clarke had stayed at Kimberly’s hospital bedside through her fever. As Kimberly refused food in her grief, it was Mrs. Clarke who coaxed her to eat, who held her through the worst nights. Without Mrs. Clarke, Kimberly might not have survived that period.

Kimberly considered her family. Though she hadn’t spoken to her father in three years, she’d still called Mrs. Clarke on holidays. “I brought you something.” Kimberly handed her a beautifully wrapped package. “The finest tea from New York’s best shop.”

“Oh, I’ll make some for you tonight:”

“No,” Kimberly shook her head. “This is for you. I’ve had plenty. I wanted you to try it.”

“I couldn’t possibly—”

Kimberly pressed the gift into her hands. “Please. After everything you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can offer.”

Mrs. Clarke’s eyes welled up. “Miss Kimberly…”

“Kimberly! You’re back!” A young voice rang out as a small girl ran forward, throwing her arms around Kimberly’s legs.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Eight-year-old Lucy Jordan looked up at her half-sister, eyes shining with joy. Lucy had always adored Kimberly, though Kimberly remained distant. She couldn’t help associating Lucy with Victoria, her stepmother—her mother’s former best friend. Still, Lucy was innocent. Despite her complicated feelings about Victoria, Kimberly couldn’t bring herself to be cruel to such a sweet child who only wanted her sister’s love.

“You’re home early from school?”

“Mrs. Clarke told us you were back. Lucy couldn’t wait to see you,” Victoria appeared, smiling warmly.

Kimberly tensed. Before she’d left, her hatred for her stepmother had been obvious. They’d barely exchanged words all year. Kimberly despised Victoria not just for marrying her father, but for betraying her own best friend. In Kimberly’s eyes, Victoria was a scheming woman who’d stolen her friend’s husband. And Ronald was no better—a man who’d fallen for his dead wife’s best friend. These feelings had transformed Kimberly from a perfect daughter into a rebel.

When Kimberly remained silent, Victoria continued pleasantly, “You must be tired. Rest a bit—I’ll call you for dinner.”

Lucy tugged at Kimberly’s hand. “Come see the painting I made for you!”

Kimberly withdrew her hand coldly. “No. I need to rest.”

“Oh… okay.” Lucy’s face fell as she stepped back.

Victoria took Lucy’s hand. “Let’s not disturb your sister.”

Mrs. Clarke stood awkwardly. “I’ll go prepare dinner then, madam.”

After they left, Kimberly closed her door, finally finding silence. That evening, Ronald returned home, and the family gathered at the dinner table. He studied Kimberly. “You might have told us you were coming home.”

“Would it have mattered either way?” Her tone dripped hostility.

His brow furrowed. “Three years haven’t changed your attitude?”

Kimberly’s smile was sharp. “Three years haven’t led to your divorce from Aunt Victoria?”