Chapter 1I Was Her Seven Year Secret

Seven years. That’s how long we’d been doing the long-distance dance between Seattle and San Francisco. I finally decided to end the miles. I quit my job, packed my life into a few suitcases, and caught a flight south without telling her.

I wanted to surprise her. I wanted to give her a ring. I wanted to finally start the life we’d been dreaming of since our sophomore year of college.

But when I stood in the glass-and-steel lobby of her office building, the receptionist’s gaze was... complicated.

"You’re here to see Madeline?" she asked, her eyes tracing the worn straps of my backpack. "Ms. Vance—sorry, Ms. Starling—is in a board meeting. You’ll have to wait."

I frowned. Madeline had never mentioned a promotion, let alone a title change. Last week, over FaceTime, she’d been complaining about the glass ceiling and how her boss was making her life a living hell.

I turned toward the seating area, but the hushed whispers of the receptionists followed me like a cold draft.

"Is that him? The one she keeps on the side?"

"God, he’s bold, showing up at the office like this."

"Does she really think she can keep a side piece in Seattle while she’s married to a guy like Harrison? If he finds out, he’ll burn this whole city down."

My heart did a slow, sickening roll in my chest. I wanted to turn around and tell them they had it wrong. Madeline wasn't married. I was her boyfriend of ten years. We were the real deal.

But before I could speak, the revolving doors hissed open. A man stepped in, wearing a suit that cost more than my car. The receptionists snapped their mouths shut, their spines straightening.

"Mr. Starling," they said in unison, their voices dripping with practiced respect.

The man was on his phone, his voice a deep, commanding rumble. "Sweetheart, I’m downstairs. You’re not getting out of the prenatal appointment today. I don't care how long the meeting goes."

There was a pause, and then a voice crackled through his speaker—sweet, melodic, and unmistakable.

"I know, honey. I’m almost done. Go up to the VIP lounge and wait for me."

I’d listened to that voice every night for a decade. It was the voice that told me she loved me, the voice that promised me forever.

It was Madeline.

...

* * *

My backpack hit the marble floor with a dull thud.

As I bent down to retrieve it, a slip of paper fluttered out from the side pocket of a folder the man—Harrison—was carrying. I reflexively grabbed it.

It was a lab report. Twelve weeks pregnant. Patient Name: Madeline Starling.

Twelve weeks. Three months ago, Madeline told me she was too exhausted to fly up for our anniversary. She’d said she was buried in paperwork, barely sleeping. When we finally did a video call, I saw a faint, dark mark on the curve of her neck.

"A bug bite," she’d laughed, pulling her hair forward. "Silas, babe, after all these years, do you really think there’s anyone else? You’re my only one."

I’d believed her. I’d actually apologized for being paranoid.

And now, I was standing in the shadow of her husband.

Harrison took the lab report from my hand, offering a polite, distracted smile. "Thanks, man." He paused, looking at me properly for the first time. "You here for Madeline, too?"

I managed a stiff nod.

"Come on up, then. My wife tends to lose track of time when she’s running meetings. Might as well wait in the comfort of the lounge."

The word wife felt like a jagged piece of glass twisting in my heart.

In the lounge, Harrison introduced himself. Harrison Starling. The CEO of Starling Holdings. One of the most powerful names in the Bay Area.

"Maddy is stubborn," he said, looking down at the sonogram tucked into the report with a look of pure, unadulterated devotion. "She says she wants to earn enough for the 'baby fund'—as if she doesn't own half this company. She just loves the grind."

I gripped the strap of my bag until my knuckles turned white.

Madeline had told me she was a junior analyst. She told me she was being bullied by her superiors. She told me the distance was the only thing keeping us from getting a marriage license.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. A group of executives walked past, nodding to Harrison. "Waiting for the boss lady again, Mr. Starling?"

Then, she walked in.

The room seemed to shrink. One of her colleagues nudged her, teasing, "Madeline, your husband is here to check up on you again!"

Harrison stepped forward, sliding his arm around her waist with the ease of long-standing possession. "You’re late, Mrs. Starling."

"Just a few minutes, honey. I’m all yours now."

She leaned up and kissed his jaw. Then, her eyes shifted. She saw me.

For a fraction of a second, her mask crumbled. Her face went deathly pale. But before I could even draw a breath, she regained her composure. Her expression turned into something cool, professional, and entirely detached.

"Silas?" she said, her voice flat. "What are you doing here?"

Harrison looked between us. "Sweetheart, who’s this?"

The colleagues exchanged knowing looks. "Oh, you know Madeline," one laughed. "She’s always helping out old school friends. This must be one of them."

Madeline stepped forward, physically placing herself between me and Harrison. "He’s an old classmate from college. A long time ago." She turned to her assistant, her voice turning sharp. "Sarah, please show this gentleman out. We have a private appointment."

I stared at her, waiting for the punchline. Waiting for her to tell them it was all a joke.

But her eyes were already back on Harrison.

"Let's go, honey," she whispered, taking his hand. "We have to see the doctor."

Harrison leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You’re so obedient today." As they walked past me, he glanced back over his shoulder. "Maddy, it’s a bit rude to leave your friend standing there, isn't it?"

Madeline didn't turn around.

"He’s just an old acquaintance, Harrison. Nowhere near as important as you."

The tears started then, hot and humiliating. The employees watched me with a mix of pity and mockery as I stood there, broken in the middle of her empire.

Ten years of history. Seven years of distance. A thousand miles traveled. All reduced to "an old acquaintance."

I pulled out my phone. Three days ago, she’d texted me: Silas, just give me a little more time. Once my career stabilizes, we’ll get married. I promise.

I’d quit my life for that promise. I had no idea I was just a character in a story she’d already finished writing.