When my father died, his illegitimate daughter, Becca, flew back from Europe to stake her claim on the Hamptons seaside manor—my mother’s legacy.

I was the sole legal heir, with the trust documents held firmly in my hands.

But I still couldn't protect what was rightfully mine.

Because my own fiancé, Hobs, one of New York's most powerful men, was determined to help her instead.

He stood protectively before Becca’s wheelchair, his voice tight with impatience. “The money I give you could buy half of Long Island. How can you be so heartless? Why are you trying to take a home from a disabled woman?”

My voice trembled with disbelief. “Take? Hobs, that manor is the last thing my mother designed with her own hands.”

In the end, Hobs’s legal team found a loophole in the trust.

He glanced at my tear-rimmed eyes, a flicker of guilt in his own. “Blair,” he promised, “I’ll make it up to you.”

But I knew then, looking at him, that our future was over.

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1

"I'll write you another blank check. Just give Becca the manor."

"She had a skiing accident in Europe and she'll be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. Do the right thing, Blair. Show some compassion."

Every casual word from Hobs’s mouth sent a fresh wave of fury through me.

"Absolutely not! My mother designed that house!"

"Her mother was a maid in our house. She seduced my father while my mother was pregnant with me. Then, she had the gall to flaunt her pregnant belly in front of my mother, who was so distraught she went into premature labor. A massive hemorrhage… she died right after I was born."

"You want me to pity her? Who’s going to pity my mother? Who’s going to pity me?"

I screamed at him, tears of rage blurring my vision. Hobs simply took off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shot me an irritated glare.

"Blair, stop making a scene. I'll get you a penthouse in Manhattan, one worth several houses like that. You should be satisfied."

"Now, sign the transfer deed."

I stared at the man before me, tears streaming down my face.

"Hobs, I'm your fiancée! Not helping me is one thing, but siding with a stranger against me?"

"What about 'til death do us part'? Did you forget the vow you made at Tiffany's?"

Hobs knew he was in the wrong.

He was silent for a long moment before his tone softened.

"I just feel she needs someone to look after her."

"Blair, sign it. I swear, from now on, I'll only ever protect you."

He pushed the deed toward me again.

I didn’t hesitate.

I ripped the document to shreds and threw the pieces in his face.

"Forget it. I'm not signing."

"The trust transfer is official tomorrow. If you still insist on helping Becca, then I'll see you in court."

I grabbed my bag and stood to leave.

His warning followed me out the door.

"Blair, don't make me do something we'll both regret."

My steps faltered for a half-second before my resolve hardened and I kept walking.

Suddenly, a loud dragging sound and the clang of metal erupted behind me.

"Woof!" A familiar, terrified bark ripped through the air.

My heart plummeted. I spun around, and what I saw made me shriek in horror. "Hobs, are you insane?!"

"You're using Cody to threaten me?!"

Cody was our Golden Retriever. We had raised him together for five years. He was our baby.

Now, two bodyguards were forcing him into a cramped, cold iron cage. Hobs held up his phone, the screen showing a live feed from a city shelter.

One call was all it would take. Cody would be sent to a shelter where any animal unclaimed after twenty-four hours is put down.

Hobs sighed, a look of feigned helplessness on his face.

"Blair, you're forcing my hand."

"I have another deed right here. Sign it."

"You have one day. Whether Cody lives or dies is up to you."

Seeing Cody trapped, I felt my world start to crumble.

I lunged forward, grabbing Hobs’s sleeve and sobbing, "Hobs, that's Cody! Our Cody! How could you do this to him? He's old, the stress alone could kill him!"

My tears meant nothing to him.

He glanced at his watch. "You have twenty-three hours left," he said calmly. "The manor, or the dog?"

Cody thrashed in the cage, whimpering in terror. The bodyguards slammed the door shut, locking him in a space so tight he couldn't even turn around.

He couldn't speak, but his watery eyes pleaded with me to save him. The tail that always thumped with joy now drooped between his legs. His gaze, full of terror and agony, was locked on mine.

Every second I looked at him felt like a knife twisting in my heart.

But that manor was the only thing my mother had ever left me.

How could I hand it over to the daughter of the woman who destroyed my family? How could my mother rest in peace if I did that?

"Blair, twelve hours left." Hobs's text arrived, cold and clinical.

My legs buckled, and I sank to the floor. Pride and dignity were luxuries I could no longer afford. I knelt before Hobs, begging.

"Hobs, I'm begging you, please let Cody go!"

"This is between us, don't drag him into it! You cried when he almost died from parvo as a puppy. You loved him once! How can you be so cruel?"

"Give him back to me! He won't survive this, don't you see? Please!"

Hobs didn’t answer, just stared at his phone. A moment later, my own phone buzzed with videos of Cody whining in terror from inside the shelter cage.

"Three hours."

"One hour."

"Thirty minutes, Blair. The shelter vet is getting ready…"

In the latest video, a figure in a white coat was walking toward Cody’s cage.

In that moment, the depth of his cruelty became terrifyingly clear.

I collapsed completely, a howl of pure despair tearing from my throat.

"I'll sign!"

My hand trembled as I scrawled my name on the deed.

Hobs finally smiled, satisfied, and passed the document to Becca.

She waved it in my face with a triumphant smirk.

"Thanks so much, Blair."

"I’m going to bring my mom to live with me in the manor, openly. She’s going to be so happy!"

I was too choked with rage to speak. I just turned to Hobs.

"You'll bring Cody back now, right?"

He nodded, signaling his assistant to retrieve the dog, then bent down as if to help me up.

Just as the car returned, Becca suddenly screamed.

"Ah! Look out!"

"My wheelchair is out of control!"

As she yelled, her electric wheelchair swerved, and the leash seemed to slip from her grasp.

In that instant, Cody, finally free, bolted toward me—directly into the path of a reversing truck.

A sickening thud.

Becca let out a theatrical scream and tumbled from her wheelchair.

But Cody lay completely still. The massive truck wheel had rolled over him. He let out a single, piercing cry, and then there was nothing.

Hobs didn’t even spare Cody a glance, striding right past his lifeless body.

He scooped a pale-faced Becca into his arms, murmuring gently, "It's okay, I'm here. Let's get you inside and checked out."

Then, he hurried away, leaving me behind.

I scrambled toward Cody, my hands scraping the pavement, and saw blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

I grabbed the arm of the veterinarian who had just arrived. "Save him!" I shrieked.

"He's not breathing! You're a doctor, do something!"

The vet knelt, felt for a pulse, and then shook his head.

"Miss Sinclair, I'm so sorry. He's gone."

A roaring filled my ears.

That afternoon passed in a haze. I was a ghost, barely registering how I managed to get Cody's body to the crematorium.

I had no one left.

My mother was gone. My father, a traitor.

The only two beings who had ever truly loved me were my fiancé and my dog.

Now, Hobs had betrayed me, and Cody was dead.

Standing before the roaring furnace, a chill settled deep in my bones.

My phone vibrated.

A text from Hobs.

[It was an accident. Becca is more shaken up than anyone. I'm staying with her at the manor tonight. Now that the deed is signed, I'll have the lawyers finalize it tomorrow. Don't be upset. I'll make this up to you and love you even more.]

I didn't reply.

I collected Cody's ashes. My gaze fell to the engagement bracelet on my wrist, and the irony was crushing.

Love?

To hell with his love.

Hobs knew how much this would gut me, and he did it anyway.

It wasn't a mistake. It was a choice.

He had chosen to hurt me, and he had done it with surgical precision.

It was unforgivable.

I kept the appointment I had made that afternoon. Then I spent the evening packing my bags and walked out of the apartment we once shared for the last time.

I unclasped the Cartier bracelet—once a symbol of our love—and tossed it onto the vanity.

The bracelet was trash. Hobs's love was worth even less.

My phone buzzed again.

A flight notification.

[Dear Ms. Blair Sinclair, your ticket for flight BA1516 from New York (JFK) to London (LHR) has been successfully issued. Departure: 10:15 AM, the day after tomorrow. We wish you a pleasant journey.]

Another buzz. An email from an unknown address.

[Miss Sinclair, I've looked into it. There are no insurance claims or medical records for any skiing accidents in Europe under the name Becca Davis.]

I read the email, a cold certainty settling in my gut. But with the transfer deed in effect, I had already lost the manor.

A few days later, Hobs cornered me on the street.

Seeing my glacial expression, he asked tentatively, "The deed is finalized. Are you still angry?"

"I wasn't taking her side. Becca is sponsored by one of my charity projects; we've known each other for a while. Seeing her in that state... I just felt sorry for her. That's why I…"

"I've found a new penthouse on Central Park West. Better location, better view. I'll buy it for you as compensation. I already promised you, from now on I'll…"

Hobs didn't get to finish.

Becca rolled up in her electric wheelchair, interrupting him eagerly. "Blair, I was just looking for you!"

"Hobs was worried about how people would see me, so he's holding a charity party at the manor tomorrow. It's a housewarming, and a way to clear my name."

"Since you're moving your things out tomorrow anyway, you should come!"

Becca had barely finished when Hobs chimed in.

"Exactly. Becca's situation is awkward enough. If you're there, it will help dispel the rumors."

I frowned, a cold laugh escaping my lips.

"Clear her name? How? The facts are the facts. She was born while my parents were married. If her mother wasn't a mistress, what was she?"

With that, I turned and walked away.

Becca's face flushed with fury.

She bit back a curse, then turned to Hobs, her expression shifting instantly to one of feigned fragility.

"Hobs, is Blair still mad at me?"

"It's all my fault. I should have just stayed in Europe, a useless cripple. It would have been better if I'd died... then I wouldn't be a nuisance to anyone."

Hobs patted her shoulder comfortingly.

"What right does she have to be angry? I've more than compensated her."

"Don't worry about it. I'll handle things tomorrow."

Handle it.

It was a thinly veiled threat, and I heard it loud and clear.