Emily POVTo say I wasn’t expecting Jacob’s proposition is an understatement. But then again, he’s full of surprises. I was completely floored.He sees the look of astonishment on my face while he patiently waits for an answer.“What about my place? I have six months left on my lease,” I say, still trying to process what he’s said.“No offense, but your place is a dump. I don’t know how you managed to stay there for so long without catching the bubonic plague. And after what happened there, do you really feel safe going back?” he asks, concerned.To be honest with him, I had never really thought that far. In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be given a choice, and I’d be forced to go back. That’s the difference between people who have money and those who don’t.But I have the feeling Jacob is aware of his privilege, so I don’t broach the subject with him.“I don’t know. It’s a big adjustment. All my things are there,” I say, trying to think of all the reasons why I shouldn’t accept his

Emily POV With Jacob leaving in a rush to Collin Estate, we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye—leaving things up in the air. Charlotte had a mild heart attack and was sent home to Collin Estate to recover. The doctors said she was lucky to make it, considering her age. As a ploy to win Jacob’s affections back, she insisted on having her grandson around to aid her recovery. Jacob texts every day to give us an update on Charlotte’s health, and he video calls Liam before he goes to bed. If you ask me, I think it’s all bullshit. She knows exactly what she’s doing. Boy, would I love to see the look on her face if she knew where I was now. Liam seems unaffected by his great-grandmother’s illness, even confiding in me one night that he doesn’t like her that much. “She smells like dead flowers,” he shared one night while I was waiting for him to finish up the tub. “And shouldn’t she be dead by now?” he asks from the bathroom. I let out a snicker and he hears me, giggling in return. Whi

Jacob POV I know the way to Ruth’s house. I could drive there with my eyes closed if need be. I pull up outside, and a sense of dread washes over me. The little two-bedroom cottage is at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac among a neat row of other cottages. The home was a gift from my dad to say thank you to Ruth for raising me. Now, standing on her porch, I feel a mixture of emotions wash over me. But before I play devil’s advocate, I have to know Ruth’s side of the story. She opens before I ring the bell. “Jacob, how lovely of you to visit,” she says, genuinely excited to see me. She takes me in a warm embrace, and I smell the scent of potpourri and coffee, bringing back childhood memories. I learnt how to ride my bike in this very lane. There’s a chestnut tree on the sidewalk. Ruth would take a ladder and instruct me to climb to the top so we could get the best nuts. I’m not the passive aggressive type, so I would prefer if we could hash this out like grownups. Knowing Ruth, she wo

Chapter 28 Nancy POV While Jacob and Charlotte are having it out, I find myself in a lovely sunny corner on the landing. I can hear their entire argument. It’s not my fault that their voices can be heard throughout the house. From what I can gather, this Emily woman is proving to be a problem. I have to find a way to get rid of her before Jacob calls off the engagement. I will not allow this stupid woman to come between me and what is rightfully mine. I’ve worked too hard for it. Grabbing my bag, I head out and make my way to the city. Nancy needs to play. By the time I make it to Queen’s, a gay bar in the meatpacking district, the sun has already set. I need a drink and meaningless sex with a stranger I’ll never see again. The advantage of Queen’s is that no one knows me here. Like a chameleon, I can slip in and out of character, and then disappear without a trace. It’s a life I’ve been living for the past ten years. The bar is packed with writhing bodies on the dancefloor, sli

Emily POV As I make my way to Liam’s grave, a light drizzle starts falling. I got sidetracked on the way here and stopped to buy him a bunch of flowers—gladiolus, his favorite. When we were younger, there was a field of gladiolus behind our house, growing wild as far as the eye could see. Our mother hated us playing there, and she’d try to scare us with stories of snakes and spiders. So, we’d run away and sit there for hours, making flower crowns and chains with the dainty petals. It feels like a memory that now belongs to someone else—implanted in my mind and giving the illusion that it’s real. Like every other memory from my early childhood, it feels like it’s fading with time. Maybe if I hold onto it for long enough, it will burn itself into a part of my brain that cannot be erased. Strange, I could never remember anything before the age of ten. My mother used to say it’s because I had a nasty fall, resulting in a brain concussion. Imagine losing a part of your memory, woosh, g