We had been together for five years.

Just as I was preparing to finally tell Blake I was the heiress to the Vance Group, I overheard him chatting with his friends in French at a SoHo restaurant.

"Blake, when is your engagement party with the Prescott girl?"

While tenderly wiping a smudge of sauce from the corner of my mouth, Blake replied without missing a beat.

"Next weekend."

A knowing glance passed between them.

"So, what happens to Cora once you're engaged?"

"I'll set her up in an apartment in Brooklyn. She's too pure; I wouldn't want her caught up in the high-society games."

The group erupted in laughter.

"Sounds like Cora is so docile. You've got her completely under your thumb."

Blake kissed my forehead, doing nothing to stop his friends' smug remarks.

I lowered my eyes, a cold, unnerving calm washing over me.

They had no idea I was fluent in six languages, or that I had been running my family's massive art foundation for years.

————————

1

Blake had taken me to a charity gala.

Unfortunately, I ran into a European gallery owner who recognized me.

"Miss Vance, I'm surprised to see you here. As the director of the Vance Foundation, I can't imagine you have much time for galas like this."

In public, I had always cultivated an image of being low-key and aloof.

After our last successful collaboration, this gallery owner had invited me to several private dinners, all of which I had declined.

Before I could respond, Blake's new Wall Street friends swarmed us, their words dripping with sarcasm.

"Her? Miss Vance?"

"Some girl from Brooklyn who thinks she's a foundation director?"

"That's rich. If she's a director, then I'm the king of England."

"Everyone knows the real Miss Vance is never in New York, and she certainly wouldn't show up at an event like this."

The gallery owner's eyes flickered over me. Humiliated by the crowd's ridicule, he had no choice but to stammer an apology.

"I must have mistaken you for someone else!"

Their targeted mockery made my skin crawl, and I turned and fled the ballroom.

Blake, who hadn't said a word in my defense, followed me out.

"Cora, was that a bit much for you?"

"If you don't like scenes like that, I won't bring you to these events again."

Blake was the illegitimate son of the Wall Street Harrison family.

It was only recently, when the direct family line died out, that he was acknowledged and brought into the fold.

"Did I embarrass you in there?"

Blake forced a smile, feigning pity as he ruffled my hair.

"Of course not. To me, you're the most wonderful girl in the world. No one else even comes close."

"I just hate seeing you get treated like that. It kills me to see you unhappy."

I stared at him, suddenly feeling like the man before me was a complete stranger.

The reason I chose him all those years ago was his sincerity.

I never imagined he could be such a convincing actor.

"Our worlds are so different. If we're going to make this work, this kind of thing is bound to happen."

"Blake, will you still marry me?"

He looked away, flustered.

"Cora, I’ve only just been accepted by the Harrison family. My hands are tied."

"We'll have to put marriage on hold for a little while."

"But I promise you, you're the only one in my heart. That will never change."

For five years, our relationship had been nothing but sweet.

But whenever marriage came up, he would always find an excuse to put it off.

First, it was saving for a down payment on an apartment. After he was accepted by the Harrisons, he claimed he needed to secure his position within the family.

I sympathized with his plight and had already spoken to my father.

The moment Blake proposed, a trust fund would be established for him as a wedding gift.

I am the sole heiress to the Vance Group.

I was a major reason the Vance Group had become a global luxury conglomerate, thanks to my early strategic investments in the art market.

I didn't need money; all I wanted was a genuine heart.

Three days ago, I found a design proposal for an engagement party in his study.

His computer was filled with discarded sketches; he had clearly designed it all himself.

I thought he was finally going to propose.

I had even instructed my staff to prepare for our celebration party.

I was just waiting for his proposal to reveal my identity and give him the surprise of his life.

Who knew I was actually waiting for the announcement of his engagement to Summer Prescott, the daughter of a senior executive from the Vance Group's North American division.

It turned out he never intended to marry me at all.

He wanted to keep me as his secret mistress.

To bask in my affection and care while leveraging Summer's family connections for his own gain.

If he was so eager to throw away a fortune, then I was happy to grant his wish.

I felt a flicker of dark anticipation, wondering what his face would look like when he finally learned the truth.

"Alright, just bear with it a little longer. For me, okay?"

"After the gala, I'll take you for a walk along the Hudson to see the city lights, how about that?"

As he spoke, a woman approached, wearing a custom gown in a color that perfectly matched his suit.

Before I could get a clear look at her, Blake stepped forward, subtly positioning himself between us.

"Blake, Mr. Harrison wants to see you inside. He said it's important."

"What is it? I have plans later, I need to leave soon."

The woman didn't push.

"It's about the engagement…"

Blake cut her off with a sharp cough and glanced at me, his expression strained.

"Cora, my father probably has some business to discuss. Why don't I get a car to take you home first?"

"I'll come right back to you as soon as I'm done here!"

Without waiting for my answer, he turned and left with her.

Watching their retreating figures, so close they almost touched, the detail clicked into place. They were wearing matching colors.

A moment later, the woman glanced back, raising her champagne flute to me in a silent, triumphant toast.

Of course. He'd already decided to cast me aside, so why would he risk upsetting his new prize for my sake?

When I first overheard them, I tried to convince myself it was just a business marriage arranged by his family.

I told myself that as long as Blake was determined to marry only me, I would reveal my identity and clear any obstacles from his path.

But with every action, he was walking further and further away from me.

When I returned to our apartment, an assistant from a bridal shop was waiting at the door.

"Mr. Harrison personally designed the invitations and insisted on seeing the digital proofs tonight!"

I remembered how he'd been holed up in his study for days, telling me he was swamped with work.

The invitations he'd poured his heart into weren't for me. They were for another woman.

And I had wasted my energy worrying about his late nights, making him snacks, sitting in the living room just to keep him company.

How could a heart turn so cold, so fast?

Two years ago, I had pneumonia and a dangerously high fever.

He defied the doctors' orders, suiting up in full protective gear just to wait outside my ICU room.

The Blake from back then loved me more than his own life.

Why was he now so willing to make me the other woman, a secret affair?

Just as the assistant was leaving, I got a call from one of my team members at the Paris headquarters.

"Miss Vance, a Mr. Blake Harrison just contacted us. He specifically requested to purchase the Vera Wang gown you commissioned."

"He said he had to have it, no matter the cost. He wants to make his bride the most beautiful woman in the world."

That was the wedding dress I had commissioned three years ago.

I had spent three years working with the designer, refining every detail, even incorporating design elements from my late mother's own gown.

My eyes stung, but my voice was steady.

"Well, business is business. We can't refuse a customer."

"If he wants it, he can have it. Add five million dollars to the asking price."

Five million dollars. A million for every year we were together. It felt like a fair price.

Less than thirty minutes later, a bank transfer notification pinged on my phone.

Ever since we got together, Blake had talked about saving for a down payment.

He'd opened a joint investment account, depositing money every month—first hundreds, then thousands, then tens of thousands.

When he joined the Harrison family, he put the entire lump sum they gave him into that account.

Now, the nest egg we had built over five years was gone, wiped out in a single transaction.

"Cora," his text read, "the company project has a cash flow issue. Just borrowing this for a bit, will pay it back."

He had used our money to buy a wedding dress for Summer.

I gathered every gift he had ever given me and listed them all on an online marketplace.

Blake didn't come home that night. The walk by the river never happened.

The next morning, he rushed in, holding a bag with my favorite bagels.

"I was working overtime, so late. I was afraid I'd wake you, so I just crashed at the office."

"I know I let you down. I got up extra early just to get your favorite bagels."

His face was a pathetic mix of guilt and panic.

A week ago, his words would have melted my heart.

Now, I didn't even bother to look up, just kept flipping through the art investment report in my hands.

Rebuffed, he sidled up next to me, trying to wheedle his way back into my good graces.

"It's the weekend, why are you still working?"

"You don't have to work so hard. I can support you. You could quit tomorrow and just stay home."

He'd mentioned more than once that he wanted me to be a housewife.

I used to think it was sweet, that he was concerned for me. Now I saw his true motive.

He wanted to clip my wings, to make me a dependent, an accessory who relied on him for everything.

"I know I messed up last night. I've cleared my whole schedule today, just to be with you."

I didn't call out his clumsy lies. I offered no response, no refusal.

Sensing my continued silence, he fought back a wave of impatience.

"Cora, what's wrong?"

"Did you hear something? Is that why you're upset?"

I finally broke my silence.

"What? Are you afraid of what I might have heard?"

Blake's eyes darted around the room, unable to meet my gaze.

"Taking that money from our savings was a temporary thing."

"Cora, I love you. Everything I do is for our future."

"Okay, last night was my fault. Let me make it up to you. Let's go for a walk in Central Park today."

My mother died when I was very young. Whenever I cried for her, my father would take me to Central Park.

He'd tell me that if we just kept walking, we'd eventually find our way to where she was.

For all these years, Central Park had been my sanctuary, the place I went whenever I was heartbroken.

Blake knew this.

But halfway there, his phone rang. "My friend just called," he said, turning to me. "There's a charity auction at Sotheby's. Let's go check it out. If you see anything you like, I'll bid on it for you, as a gift."

As soon as we stepped into the auction house, a thick cloud of perfume assailed us.

And there was Summer.

Blake instinctively dropped my hand and shot his friend a death glare.

Summer, as if declaring her sovereignty, stepped forward and linked her arm through Blake's.

"Blake, who is this?"

"Cora Vance."

He then glanced at me, his expression a little strained.

"This is Summer Prescott. Her father is the Vice President of the Vance Group's North American division."

"She grew up on the Upper East Side. You could probably learn a thing or two from her about fashion and etiquette."

In one simple introduction, he made our relative importance crystal clear.

Summer and I sat on either side of Blake.

At first, he still leaned toward me, pouring my water, whispering details about the items up for auction.

But as Summer chattered away, his attention was slowly, inevitably, pulled in her direction.

It wasn't until I choked on a sip of champagne that he snapped out of it and patted my back.

From the row behind me, I heard the malicious whispers of his friends.

"Some girl from the sticks who can't even handle champagne. How pathetic."

"What are you talking about? She's just pulling a stunt to get his attention. It's sad, really."

"Blake is a Harrison now. Between Summer and Cora, the choice is a no-brainer."

Blake's lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing in my defense.

For the rest of the auction, he discreetly shifted his chair, inch by inch, closer to Summer's.

Just then, the auctioneer unveiled a new painting.

Summer immediately sat bolt upright, her excitement palpable.

"I heard this is a lost Impressionist masterpiece, the only one of its kind."

"Blake, isn't the Vance Group heiress coming back to New York soon to take over the family business?"

"I heard she adores Impressionist art. What if we bought this and gave it to Miss Vance as a welcome gift?"

"She would definitely promote my father, and your family might even land a partnership with the Vance Group."

I glanced at the painting on the stage.

"It's a fake."