Chapter 1Her Assistant Can Have Her

At our engagement party—an event three years in the making—I stood in the center of a gilded ballroom and let my fiancée’s personal aide humiliate me in front of New York’s entire social elite.

“Mr. Beaumont, your sincerity is still lacking,” Dominic said, his voice carrying across the silent room with practiced condescension. “I think Madeline needs another three years to be sure of you.”

He pulled a document from his breast pocket, sliding it across the linen tablecloth. It was a supplemental prenuptial agreement, just like the ones he’d forced on me before.

This time, I didn't reach for it. I turned my gaze toward Madeline. She was swaying slightly, a half-empty martini glass in her hand, her eyes glassy from the champagne.

“Is this your doing again?” I asked quietly.

Madeline laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. “I didn’t tell him to write it, Harry. But honestly? I think Dominic is right. He’s only looking out for me.”

She leaned into him then, letting him steady her. She looked at him with a trust she had never once afforded me.

“He would never hurt me,” she whispered, almost to herself.

I looked at her—really looked at her—and the indifference in her eyes was like a physical blow. I felt a strange, hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest.

I had been the devoted fool for five years. I had waited by the phone, built her a throne, and let her walk all over me. I guess the "nice guy" really does finish last.

Fine. If she didn't want the devoted partner, she could deal with the heir to the Beaumont fortune instead.

* * *

“Harry! Snap out of it and sign the damn paper.”

Dominic’s smirk was predatory. He spoke to me with the authority of a man who thought he owned the room. To anyone watching, you’d think I owed him a kingdom.

I picked up the agreement, crumpled it into a tight ball, and threw it directly into his face.

“Know your place,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous low.

Dominic’s face turned a mottled purple, but I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I looked back at Madeline. “I waited three years for you. Three years of long-distance calls and empty promises. And this is the result? You let your glorified manservant pull this shit at our engagement?”

The room was suffocatingly quiet. Every guest was leaning in, waiting for her to defend me.

Instead, Madeline rolled her eyes. “Dominic has been with my family since he was ten. He spent the last three years in London helping me build my firm. He’s my right hand, Harry.”

She took a sip of her drink, looking bored. “He’s just being protective. It’s just another three years. Why are you acting so dramatic?”

A murmur went through the crowd.

Another three years. Then another. How many years did she think I had to waste?

A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my chest, radiating outward until my fingers felt numb. I could still hear her voice from three years ago, echoing in my mind.

“Harry, wait for me. The second I get back, we’re getting married.”

“Dominic is just difficult, I know he almost got you killed, but I’ll keep him in line while we’re abroad.”

She hadn't kept any of those promises. If anything, she had become his enabler.

When I met her at JFK this morning, I had been vibrating with excitement. I ran toward her, reaching out for a hug I’d been dreaming of for a thousand days.

Dominic had stepped between us, his arm a cold barrier.

“The Lady of the House has a reputation to uphold now, Mr. Beaumont. We must be mindful of the press.”

Then, he’d added with a sneer, “And please, if you want to touch her, you’ll need to sanitize. Travel germs, you understand.”

Madeline hadn't said a word. She’d just nodded, checking her reflection in a compact.

Later, while I was in the restroom, Dominic took the keys to my car and drove her away before I even came back out. When I confronted her, Madeline just sighed.

“He’s protected me since we were kids. He does it for my own good. Why are you so petty, Harry? Don’t ruin the party before it even starts.”

I had swallowed my pride for the sake of the engagement. I had endured the snubs, the coldness, the arrogance.

And now, this.

Dominic’s anger faded into a triumphant grin. He puffed out his chest. “If you won’t sign, it just proves you don’t love her enough. You know, there’s a line of billionaires from here to Hong Kong waiting for a chance with her.”

He thought he could keep pushing. He thought I would break, that I would sign that humiliating contract just to keep a scrap of her attention.

I didn't.

Slap.

The sound of my hand hitting his face echoed like a gunshot.

“And you’re in that line too, aren't you?” I asked, my voice ice-cold. “That’s why you’re sabotaging this.”

“You hit me?” Dominic gasped. His fists clenched, his jaw working as if he wanted to tear me apart right there.

Bang!

Madeline slammed her glass onto the table and stood up. She reached into her clutch and pulled out a small, sleek pistol, leveling it directly at the bridge of my nose.

“That’s enough!” she screamed. “Hitting Dominic is the same as hitting me! Apologize to him. Now!”

The entire ballroom held its breath.