Summer’s POV

The crisp autumn breeze at JFK carried the familiar scent of home as I wheeled my luggage through the arrival gates. After a year of managing Fortune Corp’s European division, I couldn’t wait to surprise Alexander. Our third anniversary was coming up, and I’d deliberately finished my assignment two weeks early to celebrate it with him.

God, I’ve missed him so much. My heart fluttered as I checked my phone, half expecting to see a message from him. The screen showed nothing but the usual notifications and a missed call from Victoria. Whatever drama my sister’s cooking up can wait.

The taxi ride to Fortune Corp felt endless. I’d rehearsed this moment countless times during those lonely nights in London – walking into his office, seeing his face light up with that boyish smile I’d fallen in love with. Three years together, and he still made my heart race like a teenager’s.

“Miss Taylor?” The receptionist’s bright voice snapped me out of my daydream. “Welcome back! Are you here for the General Manager’s wedding?”

I froze. “The… what?”

“Oh!” Her smile faltered. “The engagement party, I mean. At The Plaza Hotel? For Mr. Alexander Stark and Miss Victoria Taylor?”

The words hit me like a physical blow. Alexander and… Victoria? My sister?

“There must be some mistake,” I heard myself say, my voice unnaturally calm. “Alexander Stark is my fiancé.”

The receptionist’s face drained of color. “I… um… perhaps you should speak with Mr. Stark directly? He’s at The Plaza Hotel for the engagement ceremony…”

I don’t remember leaving the building. My feet carried me automatically while my mind spun in circles, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. This is crazy. There has to be an explanation. Victoria would never… Alexander couldn’t possibly…

—

The Plaza Hotel loomed before me, its elegant façade seeming to mock my disheveled state. And there it was – a massive photo display in the lobby. Alexander and Victoria, looking picture-perfect together. His arm around her waist. Her diamond ring catching the light.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

My legs shook as I made my way to the Grand Ballroom. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses grew louder with each step. Then I saw them.

Alexander had his arm around Victoria’s waist, just like in the photo. She was wearing a stunning white dress, her smile radiant as she leaned into him. They looked… perfect together. Like they belonged.

“Summer!” Alexander’s voice cut through the buzzing in my ears. “You actually came to our engagement party?”

“Your… engagement party?” The words tasted like ash in my mouth. “Are you kidding me right now? Alexander, what the hell is going on? Victoria, how could you do this?”

Victoria’s perfect smile faltered for just a moment before recovering. “Summer, darling, please don’t make a scene…”

The New York evening air hit my face as I stumbled out of The Plaza. Tears blurred my vision as I rushed down the sidewalk, needing to get as far away as possible from that nightmare scene.

The weight of everything I’d lost pressed against my chest: three years with Alexander, countless shared dreams, the simple trust I’d placed in my own sister. How long had they been seeing each other behind my back? How many of our phone calls had been lies? How many times had Victoria smiled at me while knowing what she planned to do?

A sudden screech of tires jerked me from my spiral of thoughts. Great, just what I need – to be run over on the worst day of my life. Bright headlights flooded my vision as a black Bentley came to an abrupt stop mere inches from where I stood frozen in the crosswalk. The shock sent me stumbling backward, my ankle twisting as I lost my balance and fell hard against the asphalt. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

The car’s rear door opened, and two men stepped out. The first was in an impeccable suit, clearly some kind of assistant. But it was the second man who made me forget to breathe for a moment.

He was tall, at least 6’2″, with sharp features that seemed carved from marble and brown hair. His presence radiated authority, the kind of power that came not just from wealth, but from absolute confidence. Those eyes, though—they held me captive. Deep brown with flecks of amber that caught the streetlight, they studied me with an intensity that felt almost physical. His jaw was sharp and defined, with a hint of stubble that gave him a dangerous edge. Full lips set in a stern line completed a face that would make sculptors weep—perfect in its symmetry yet utterly masculine in its severity.

“Mr. Stark?” The assistant’s voice carried a note of concern. Another Stark, I thought bitterly, recognizing the way old money seemed to cling to him like a second skin. But there was something different about this one – something almost predatory in his focused gaze.

“James.” The taller man’s deep, commanding voice sent an inexplicable shiver down my spine. “Stay back.”

Without waiting for his assistant’s response, he stepped forward, his movements deliberate and precise. I found myself unable to look away from those dark eyes as he extended his hand toward me. For a moment, I just stared at it, my mind struggling to process this simple gesture after everything that had happened.

“Are you alright? Take my hand.”