Chapter 1

My fiancé orchestrated my father's company's downfall, forcing me to break off our engagement. He drove the company into bankruptcy, leaving my father drowning in millions of dollars of debt. The shock triggered a heart attack, and my father was rushed to emergency care.

Desperate, I knelt before my fiancé, tears streaming down my face, begging him to help cover my father's surgery costs. He responded with cold indifference.

Then, my childhood best friend, Atlas Whitmore, returned from abroad. Without hesitation, he secured my father the best medical care, staying by my side through endless nights, offering quiet reassurance.

A week later, my father suffered another attack. As his life ebbed away, Atlas, his voice trembling, vowed to marry me and care for me, ensuring my father's peaceful passing.

After the funeral, heartbroken, I severed ties with my fiancé and chose Atlas. For five years, I believed I had found peace, until a overheard conversation shattered everything.

"You really outplayed me," my ex-fiancé, Nathaniel, drawled. "Celeste walked away willingly, the clingy fool. But what if she discovered you destroyed her father? Would she want to kill you?"

Inside the private lounge, laughter echoed.

"You had her fooled," Nathaniel continued, amusement dripping from his voice. "Celeste trusted you like a brother. It never crossed her mind that you destroyed her father."

My breath caught.

A second voice, hoarse with alcohol and anger, responded. It was Atlas. "I took the blame for you because of Ivy," he spat, bitterness lacing his words. "I never cared for Celeste, but I'm not a monster. I wouldn't push her father to his death."

A sharp clink of glass against wood, followed by Atlas's low, seething voice: "I owe her. I'll spend my life making it up to her. I only helped you for Ivy's sake. But if you ever hurt her, I swear, I'll end you."

Nathaniel laughed. "Such devotion," he mused. "Too bad she met me first. You should protect your Celeste… after all, you killed her father. Be careful, Atlas. The dead have a way of coming back to haunt you."

Crash! The shattering of glass jolted me. I turned and fled.

Downstairs, the bar's dim light and heavy scent of liquor and smoke filled the air. My hands trembled as I reached for a drink. The alcohol burned, tears welling in my eyes. I never drank, but tonight, I needed something to drown out the replaying words.

It wasn't Nathaniel who ruined my father. It was Atlas—the man I'd shared a bed with for five years, the man I trusted with the fragile remains of my heart. He must have said or done something to trigger my father's second attack.

My father's final gaze, what I'd mistaken for gratitude, was rage. I'd been too blind to see it. The love, the warmth, the marriage—my salvation—was guilt, a hollow compensation.

A sharp, foreign laugh tore from me. The alcohol turned to ashes, my stomach churning.

I stared at my empty glass when Atlas's arms wrapped around me. His embrace was hesitant, sensing the shift in me. His whiskey-tinged breath fanned my neck as he murmured, "Celeste… you've been gone too long. I missed you. Let's go home, love. I need you. I love you. So much… always…"

For five years, I believed these drunken confessions. His friends said a drunk man speaks his truth, and I'd believed him. But now? It was ridiculous.

My face betrayed nothing as I gently released his arms and helped him into the car. He slumped against me, his head resting on my lap, breathing evenly. His furrowed brows smoothed in sleep.

As I reached to adjust his coat, a name escaped his lips: "Ivy… Ivy… why didn’t you choose me?"

Ivy Monroe. The woman who stole my fiancé. Atlas's first love.