Everyone in New York City knew I was the gold digger who’d clawed her way into a marriage with Grayson Ford for his money. Grayson, however, only had eyes for the ghost of a girl his mother had once paid fifty thousand dollars to break up with him. The one that got away. So, the moment Ava Cole set foot in Ford Industries, the vultures in our circle started a betting pool, taking odds on how long it would be before Grayson kicked me to the curb. Some said three months. Others said six. I had every intention of fighting to save both my marriage and my money. But that resolve crumbled the moment I saw Grayson—a man who was usually a glacier in a bespoke suit—turn a rare, warm gaze on his new secretary. I can lose the man. I can’t lose the money. That evening, I walked straight into the city’s most exclusive speakeasy and laid down five million dollars. “I’ll take the one-month bet,” I said. 1 Who on earth doesn't love money? I was intensely curious about this sainted ex-girlfriend of his. The day after I heard she’d been hired, I stormed into Ford Industries, dressed for battle and ready to see for myself. Grayson was in his office with a client. When he saw me walk in, his expression didn't flicker. I was used to it. My husband had a face carved from ice. What could I do? He was handsome and rich. My only option was to spoil him. I’d just settled onto the plush leather sofa when his new secretary, whose back was to me, spilled a cup of coffee. It splashed, with almost theatrical precision, all over the new shirt I’d picked out for him that morning. The secretary’s face was a mask of calm. She expertly retrieved another shirt—one I’d never seen before—from the private adjoining room, her chin held just a little too high. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Ford. You’ll have to change.” Despite the interruption in front of a client, Grayson didn’t reprimand her. He simply took the shirt and went to change. When he came out, adjusting his collar, he glanced at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. “How does it look?” he asked her, his voice casual. “It looks good on you.” Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, a silent understanding passing between them, followed by the ghost of a shared smile. Oh. I could smell the stench of betrayal from across the room. Before I could demand he shut the door for a private conversation, Grayson was already ushering the client out and toward the conference room. I stood up, my four-inch heels clicking furiously on the marble floor, but I couldn't keep up with their brisk pace. The secretary, cool and detached, stopped me at the door. “Ms. Langley, there’s an important meeting today. Unlike you, some of us have things to do. We don’t have time to entertain you.” Her voice was low, but sharp. “For those of us who believe in earning our place in the world, our time is best spent on things that actually matter to this company.” A mocking smile touched her lips. “Besides,” she added, “you’re dependent on this company to survive, aren’t you?” I stared at her, this legendary woman who supposedly couldn’t be bought, this icon of integrity and strength. I let out a soft, deliberate “tsk.” Ms. Langley? Earning our place? What a perfect performance. The noble working girl who scoffs at the very capital that keeps the lights on. So this was his type. No wonder a bombshell like me didn't even register on his radar. … When I agreed to the merger of our families, I already knew about the one that got away. Ava’s family wasn’t wealthy, and she was fiercely proud. She couldn’t stand the constant condescension from Grayson’s mother and had ended things, walking away without a second glance. Grayson had been hung up on her for years. On our wedding night, he slept in the guest room, clutching a cheap, hand-knitted scarf she’d once made for him. I scoffed, rolled over, and buried my face in my five-figure, custom-made silk comforter. It smelled divine. I slept until dusk the next day, then met my friends to continue the bachelorette party we’d started two days prior. It wasn't until the fourth day of my marriage that I found out Grayson had fled the country for a "business trip," a trip that lasted three months. The story of his blatant rejection spread like wildfire. Everyone in New York’s elite circles knew that the beautiful daughter the Langley family had pushed on the Fords couldn’t even keep her husband in their bed on their wedding night. The humiliation was… immense. Gritting my teeth, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I eyed his broad shoulders, his lean waist, the outline of his abs through his shirt. One evening, I found my chance and slipped something into his tea. We spent the night tangled together, a blur of skin and heat. The next morning, he woke up in a fury. “Aurora! Have you no shame? This is… this is coercion! You can’t just—” I crossed my legs, lounging against the headboard, and gave him a lazy, dismissive glance. “Please, Grayson. It’s called fulfilling your spousal duties. Besides, don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.” He was a mess of shame and indignation. “I’m warning you, Aurora. If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will pull all funding from Langley Enterprises.” That got my attention. I immediately backed down, hopping out of bed. “Fine! Don’t sleep with me! It wasn't that great anyway!” I, Aurora Langley, fear nothing. Except being broke. To seal this marriage, my father had reluctantly signed over thirty percent of his company’s shares to me. Threatening the family business was the one way to get to me. With Langley Enterprises still on shaky ground, I was living on Grayson's dime. Pissing him off was not a good strategy. So, I decided to lay low and play the long game. And so, two years of our marriage passed. The numbers in my bank account grew exponentially with each passing day. Life without love but with plenty of money was a kind of blissful, hollow existence. It was certainly better than the years I’d spent after my parents, high on their first taste of success, had dumped me in a small town in the middle of nowhere to be raised by my grandmother. It was better than begging door-to-door in a storm to scrape together a few hundred dollars for her medication. I was done with the anxiety of wondering how we’d pay for things. I was done watching my grandmother’s trembling hands pull wrinkled dollar bills, one by one, from her old wooden box. From a very young age, I decided my life could be devoid of a soulmate, devoid of family, but it could never, ever be devoid of money. … Honestly, I truly did want to make things work with Grayson. That is, until his sainted ex showed up at our front door that night. Ava Cole held out the ruined shirt, her chin still tilted in that same posture of defiant pride. “Mr. Ford, just tell me how much it costs. I’ll pay you back in full.” Grayson, fresh from the shower and wrapped in a loose robe, paused at the sight of her standing in our doorway. His voice softened. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a shirt.” “Five thousand dollars. Cash or transfer?” I stepped out from behind him, plucking the shirt from her hand. A slow, deliberate smile spread across my face as I watched the color drain from hers. “Can’t afford it? That’s alright,” I purred. “I can just deduct it from your salary. Installments are fine.” … 2 “You went too far, Aurora! Do you need that five thousand dollars? Didn’t you see she was about to cry?” The second the door closed, Grayson’s anger was palpable, rivaling the morning after I’d drugged him. I sat down gracefully, taking a moment to admire my fresh manicure. “No, I don’t need the money. But why should I have to pay for her mistake?” “Her family is struggling, Aurora! That’s several months’ salary for her. She has a sick grandmother to support. How is she supposed to live?” “Is her financial situation my fault?” I countered, my voice dangerously calm. “If you know you can’t afford to make mistakes in life, you learn to be careful with everything you touch. Whether it’s a man… or a job.” Grayson was speechless for a moment. “You’re unbelievable,” he finally spat out, before storming upstairs to his study. The door slammed with a resounding crack. I just lowered my gaze to the wrinkled, unrecognizable shirt in my hands. He seemed to have forgotten. Two years ago, he’d developed a severe skin allergy. Even the finest custom-tailored fabrics irritated him. I had gone to a master tailor in Charleston, a man known for his work with a rare, limited-edition heritage silk. I’d bought the entire bolt. And then, with my own two hands, I had stitched that shirt for him, thread by thread. My carefully manicured fingers were pricked and raw by the end, but when I saw that rare flicker of genuine pleasure in his eyes, I felt the ridiculous, hands-on effort had been worth it. For a little while after that, our marriage had a hint of sweetness to it. But that was before Ava Cole’s return. Before I realized that Grayson—the man who treated me with such icy indifference, whose smiles felt like charity—could be so gentle with someone else. I never knew his eyes could hold that kind of warmth so effortlessly. I could faintly hear the low murmur of his voice through the closed study door, comforting her. It was quiet, but it grated on my nerves. A bitter laugh escaped me. I crushed the shirt in my fist and threw it into the trash can with a satisfying thud. A gift that isn’t cherished is meaningless, no matter the effort. Money, on the other hand, is loyal only to the person holding it. The next day, I called my friends and went on a marathon shopping spree. When I returned home, arms laden with bags from every designer on Fifth Avenue, I was stunned to find Ava Cole in my house. She was wearing a simple cotton dress, her hair in a low bun. Modest. Understated. An apron was tied around her waist. She was walking out of my kitchen, carrying a steaming tureen of what smelled like a hearty beef stew. 3 I stared at Grayson, who was sitting on the sofa, engrossed in some documents. I tried to rack my brain, wondering if I’d suffered some sort of memory loss. “What did I miss? When did we start the part of the show where you move into my house?” Ava’s eyes immediately welled with tears. She lifted her chin, her voice trembling with indignation. “Ms. Langley, does having money give you the right to bully people like this? You’re attacking my character and my dignity!” Grayson didn’t even look up from his papers. “You pushed her to the point where she was about to start delivering food to pay you back. That’s dangerous. You were never happy with the last housekeeper anyway. I told Ava she could work here instead.” “You have my word, Ms. Langley,” Ava said, regaining her composure and that infuriatingly righteous expression. “I will pay back the five thousand dollars as soon as possible. I won’t be in your debt for long.” “Hah.” I glanced at the stew on the dining table. “Did you bother to do any research before you started playing house? I’m allergic to mushrooms.” Ava flinched, but her face quickly settled back into a neutral mask. “Mr. Ford enjoys this recipe. If you don’t like it, Ms. Langley, you can have something else. I also made a salad.” “Tsk,” I clicked my tongue, applauding softly. “So, you’re paying off your debt to me with money you earn by waiting on my husband?” Ava’s face flushed. “You…” “That’s enough!” Grayson stood up, his face dark. “I asked her to come here. If you have a problem, take it up with me. Stop making things difficult for her.” “Grayson! She just appears out of nowhere at your company, and now she’s in our home! She is not here with good intentions!” I was losing my composure. A cold smirk crossed Grayson’s face. “Do you really think every woman is like you, Aurora? Don’t forget why you married me in the first place. This family, this company… I’m in charge of it all. And that includes your family’s little business.” The air crackled with silence. After a long moment, I burst out laughing. “Fine. You’re the boss.” I shrugged. “You two enjoy your dinner. I’m going out for martinis.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out, ignoring the stunned look on Grayson’s face. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ava. She was standing perfectly still, a look of pure, triumphant scorn directed right at me. … I drove aimlessly for a while before pulling over. I couldn’t explain the feeling. Seeing Grayson defend her left an ache in my chest, a hollow space that made it hard to breathe. I pulled out my phone. The screen was blank except for a single notification from my doctor’s office with my recent test results. Bored, I opened the file and started scrolling. When I got to the gynecology report, my eyes widened. Wait. Abnormal hCG levels? What did that mean? Was I… pregnant? My mind went into a tailspin. Last month, overcome by a rare wave of desire for him, I’d put on a silk slip and tried, with a little flourish, to seduce him. And now… this. As if on cue, a dull ache started in my lower abdomen, a phantom pain that felt like something was actually taking root. This baby… It was coming at the worst possible time. And the best possible time. A wave of melancholy washed over me. Because I had, in quiet moments, actually imagined… having a child with Grayson. 4 I had seen him once before, long before we were married. I was twelve, a year before my parents, who had finally struck it rich, remembered they had a daughter and brought me to New York. He had come with a team from his family’s foundation to donate supplies to the schools in our small town. He was only eighteen, but he moved with a quiet confidence. He was so handsome it made my heart ache. I saw him, and I never forgot him. So later, when my parents decided to trade me and Langley Enterprises’ most profitable division for an alliance with the Fords, I agreed. But he had always been cold to me. And our marriage was a business deal, tainted by ambition and money. There was never a moment for heartfelt confessions. There was never a chance to tell him I’d fallen for him when I was twelve. It was a shame, really. But then I thought, she’s the one who walked away from him. Why should I be the one to step aside now that she’s decided to waltz back into his life? If anyone should leave, it’s the expired ghost of his past. With that thought, I spun the car around and drove back, my foot heavy on the accelerator. The moment I opened the front door, I saw her. Ava was standing in the foyer, the house spotless behind her, as if she’d been waiting for me. She saw the storm on my face and a knowing look crossed hers. “Grayson already left for a meeting with a client.” She paused, her voice laced with condescension. “You really have a low opinion of me, don’t you, Ms. Langley? Did you think I would try to seduce him the moment you were gone? I’m not like you. I don’t do everything for money. If I did, you never would have had the chance to become Mrs. Ford.” She smiled, a cruel, cutting thing. “But a woman like you, who needs Grayson to survive… you must be terrified of losing him.” Her eyes flickered with amusement. “By the way, do you and Grayson sleep in separate rooms? I noticed while I was tidying up the master bedroom. Your side of the bed looks… untouched.” I ignored her, striding past her into the immaculate living room. My eyes landed on the coffee table. Sitting there, as if placed on display, was a single, gold-rimmed coffee cup. Used. A cold laugh escaped my lips. I swept the cup, the apron she’d worn, and a hairpin she’d “accidentally” left on the table into the nearest trash can. “Sorry, Ava. You’re fired. I don’t welcome people who help themselves to the owner’s private belongings. Nor do I welcome people who are obsessed with whether or not my husband is sleeping in the master bedroom.” I turned back to her. “Oh, and that coffee cup was part of a set worth twenty thousand dollars. I’ll expect you to reimburse me for the one you used. If you don’t, I won’t hesitate to file a police report.” Ava’s calm facade finally cracked. Her face was flushed with fury. “On what grounds? This is Grayson’s house! You can’t just throw me out!” I grabbed her arm and physically pushed her toward the door. “I can,” I said, my voice like ice. “Because I am Mrs. Ford.” 5 Night fell, and a cold rain began to pour. Ava remained outside the gates, a stubborn, pathetic statue in the downpour. I made myself a coffee and sat on the second-floor terrace, watching her, until Grayson’s car screeched into the driveway. He saw her there—the proud girl who had never bowed to anyone, now a tear-streaked mess locked out of his house—and his face contorted with rage. He looked up at me, his eyes burning with a hatred that chilled me to the bone. Without a second’s hesitation, he shrugged off his suit jacket, draped it over her trembling shoulders, and gently helped her into his car. And then I remembered. In two years of marriage, Grayson had never once let me ride in his car. I drove myself everywhere. Once, I’d been stranded on a back road outside the city during a torrential storm. The roads were flooding. Terrified, I’d called him, sobbing, but he’d hung up before I could even finish my sentence. So, this was the difference between love and the lack of it. … My phone rang, shattering the quiet. It was my mother, a woman I rarely heard from. She didn’t bother with a greeting. “The finance department at Langley just called. Grayson pulled the funding! The news just broke and our stock is already tanking. What in God’s name did you do to him?” I was silent for a moment. In the past, when I’d annoyed him, he’d threatened this. But he’d never actually done it. This time, he’d acted swiftly, without warning. I had clearly crossed a line. “Oh…” I said slowly, my voice devoid of any real concern. “I’ll figure something out.” She let out a theatrical sigh on the other end of the line. “Aurora, please, take this seriously. Your brother is about to take over the company. We can’t afford any problems. And don’t forget, you get a healthy dividend from Langley every month. Keeping him happy is keeping your own wallet happy, isn’t it?” She paused. “And whatever little tramp he has on the side, surely you can handle her. A woman with your looks?”
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