When Elaina turned eighteen, the families revisited the arrangement.

This time, no one spoke for her.

Adrian asked whether she wished to continue. Linda made it clear that Elaina could refuse without damaging the relationship between the families. Grant, already spending most of his time in Geneva, said he had no objection to a formal engagement.

Elaina said yes.

By then, the awkward teenager she had once been had grown into a poised young woman. She had completed high school with honors and accepted a place at the Royal College of Music in London. Her life revolved around composition, performance, and her father’s worsening health.

Grant’s life moved in the opposite direction. He joined the Wheeler Group, traveled constantly, and developed a reputation for ruthless efficiency. The press called him brilliant, arrogant, and impossible to predict.

They rarely saw each other.

At first, they called. Then the time difference and Grant’s travel schedule made conversations irregular. Eventually, he suggested writing letters.

“I can write from airports and hotels,” he told her. “You can read them when you have time. No missed calls. No waking each other at two in the morning.”

Elaina found the idea unexpectedly romantic.

Over the next two years, 173 letters arrived from Geneva, Paris, Singapore, New York, and Dubai. Grant wrote about cities, negotiations, absurd dinners, and people he disliked. He rarely wrote directly about emotion, but he always remembered her examinations, performances, and her father’s medical appointments.

Elaina kept every letter.

By the time she turned twenty, she believed she understood him better than anyone else did.

That spring, the Reyes family held a sixtieth-birthday celebration for Adrian at their Seattle estate. His cancer had returned after two surgeries, and everyone understood that the gathering carried more meaning than a normal birthday.

The Wheelers flew in from Geneva to discuss the wedding.

Six black cars arrived beneath a gray morning sky. Linda stepped out first, elegant in a navy coat and wearing a sapphire pendant that had belonged to Grant’s grandmother.

Elaina hurried down the steps to greet her.

“Aunt Linda, welcome.”

Linda took both her hands. “Look at you. London has made you even more beautiful.”

Behind her, Grant emerged from the next car in a charcoal suit. He seemed taller than Elaina remembered, more controlled, and somehow more distant.

Their eyes met.

For a moment, the years between their meetings disappeared.

Grant’s friend, Adrian “Archie” Laurent, climbed out after him. Archie came from a wealthy French family and possessed the careless charm of a man who had never been denied anything important.

He stared openly at Elaina.

“My God,” he murmured in French. “You failed to mention she was extraordinary.”

Grant’s expression cooled. “Watch yourself.”

Archie immediately raised both hands. “A compliment. Nothing more.”

Elaina did not understand the exchange, or pretended not to. She smiled politely and led Linda inside.

At the entrance, her brothers were waiting. Julian, the eldest, wore a black suit and looked as severe as ever. Reece, her twin, greeted Grant with the pleasant smile he used when he was trying to hide distrust.

“Long flight?” Reece asked.

“Long enough,” Grant replied.

Archie offered his hand. “Archie Laurent.”

“Reece Reyes.”

The name caught Elaina’s attention. At least Grant’s friend was not another member of her own family, as earlier introductions had mistakenly implied.

Inside, the house filled with music, conversation, and the soft clink of glassware.

Elaina believed the day would mark the beginning of her future.

She did not yet know it would end her engagement.

During lunch, Elaina sat between Linda and Grant.

Linda asked about London, her performances, and Adrian’s treatment. Elaina answered politely, but her attention repeatedly drifted toward her father across the room. He looked thinner than he had a month earlier, though he laughed easily with his oldest friends.

“He shouldn’t be standing for so long,” Elaina murmured.

“He looks happy,” Linda said. “Let him enjoy today.”

Grant placed a slim folder beside Elaina’s plate. “I spoke with a research hospital in Boston. They’re reviewing your father’s records for a clinical trial.”

Elaina turned to him in surprise. “You did that?”

“I asked his permission first.”

Emotion tightened her throat. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t cured him,” Grant said. “Don’t thank me yet.”

An assistant brought over a jewelry box. Inside lay a diamond bracelet, elegant rather than ostentatious.

“For your birthday,” Grant said.

“My birthday was three months ago.”

“I was in Tokyo.”

“You sent flowers.”

“They died.”

“That is what flowers do.”

He almost smiled. “The bracelet should last longer.”

He fastened it around her wrist. Elaina felt every eye at the table shift toward them, and warmth rose to her face.

Later, when Alaskan king crab was served, Elaina prepared a portion for Linda. When she turned back, she found that Grant had done the same for her.

The gesture was small, but it moved her more than the bracelet.

She imagined breakfasts in Geneva, evenings after concerts, and letters no longer separated by oceans. She imagined marriage as a quieter version of this table: mutual care, familiar teasing, and respect.

After the meal, the older guests gathered around Linda. Elaina remained nearby until Linda touched her arm.

“Grant is outside with Archie,” she said. “Go rescue him from another cigarette before your mother notices.”

Elaina smiled. “I’ll try.”

Rain had begun to fall. She took an umbrella and crossed the lawn toward the covered veranda behind the west wing.

Halfway there, she heard Grant’s voice.

She stopped before he could see her.

Archie laughed. “Your fiancée is terrifyingly perfect.”

Grant exhaled smoke. “Perfect people are usually exhausting.”

“You’re marrying her anyway.”

“My mother chose well. Elaina is educated, discreet, and unlikely to create scandals.”

“That sounds like a job description.”

“It is.”

Archie lowered his voice. “You must care about her at least a little.”

Grant gave a short laugh.

Elaina’s fingers tightened around the umbrella handle.

“A little?” Grant said. “She spent years believing every ridiculous story I told her. At fifteen, she ate those sour cherries because she was too polite to admit they were awful. She fell twice and still defended me when her brother became suspicious.”

“You did trip her on the hike?”

“I moved my foot. I didn’t expect her to go down that hard.”

“And the skate?”

“I loosened the outer strap. The equipment should still have held. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Archie stared at him. “You could have seriously hurt her.”

“She wasn’t seriously hurt.”

“That is not the point.”

Grant’s tone turned impatient. “It was years ago. She was so composed that I wanted to see whether anything could unsettle her.”

“And now?”

“Now her father is ill and both families want the wedding settled. The Reyes family needs stability. We need a suitable alliance. Everyone gets what they want.”

Archie glanced toward the windows. “Does Elaina?”

Grant was silent for a moment.

“She’ll have everything she could possibly need.”

Under the rain, Elaina felt something inside her quietly break.