1 On the evening of our third anniversary, Carter’s first love sent him a photograph of herself in a wedding gown. “The groom bailed. Can you come marry me?” Carter Harrison stared at his phone. His expression was entirely unreadable when he finally pressed the lock button, the screen fading to black. For a split second, I thought he had finally let Serena go. But that same night, he had his assistant deliver the divorce papers to my dressing room. I didn’t scream. I didn’t demand an explanation. I just quietly slipped off the diamond band he had given me. “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ll disappear. She’ll never even have to know I was here.” Carter shifted, a flicker of irritation crossing his handsome face. “The estate in East Hampton. I’m putting the deed in your name.” Tears pricked my eyes. I shook my head, letting my voice waver just enough. “I didn’t marry you for your money, Carter.” He fell silent. He stared at me for a long moment, then picked up a pen and added another fifteen million dollars in liquid cash to the settlement. Only then did I reluctantly nod. Carter didn’t know the oldest rule of the game: the more a woman insists she doesn’t want anything, the more terrified a man becomes that he hasn’t paid enough for his guilt. Welcome to Gold-Digging 101. He was clearly taken aback. He was probably waiting for me to throw a tantrum, to tear up the printed photo of Serena Cross in her Vera Wang gown, to drop to my knees and beg him not to leave. After all, for the last three years, everyone in our circle knew I loved him with a pathetic, bruising desperation. When his ulcer flared up, I was the one awake at three in the morning, standing over the stove to make him bone broth. When he traveled for work, I slept with my phone clutched to my chest until dawn. Once, when his private jet dropped off the radar for four hours due to a storm, I drove to Teterboro barefoot in a sheer panic, looking like an absolute madwoman by the time he landed. Carter used to say I was too clingy. He said the weight of my love suffocated him. But now that I wasn’t clinging, a deep crease formed between his brows. “The Hamptons estate transfers tomorrow. The cash will hit your account by Friday,” he said, his tone clipped. He paused. “You keep the jewelry and the cars, too.” I kept my head bowed. “Thank you,” I whispered. The moment the words left my mouth, Carter’s face darkened completely. “Nora. We aren’t strangers. You don’t need to speak to me like that.” “We will be soon.” I regretted it the second I said it. It sounded too petty, too bitter. It broke the facade of the understanding, discarded wife I was trying to play. But it worked. Carter’s eyes softened. He reached out, his thumb brushing against my cheek to wipe away a stray tear. His skin was so warm. Pure muscle memory took over, and I instinctively turned my face away. His hand froze in mid-air. “You…” “I’m sorry.” I swallowed hard, fighting the familiar ache in my throat. “Doing this… it isn’t appropriate anymore.” He slowly pulled his hand back. When he spoke again, his voice was degrees colder. “My lawyer’s office. Tomorrow morning, nine sharp.” I nodded, watching as he grabbed his coat and walked out the front door. The heavy click of the deadbolt echoed through the foyer. The moment he was gone, my knees buckled. I collapsed onto the velvet sofa, pulling my knees to my chest. I thought I had performed brilliantly. But watching him actually walk away still felt like someone was taking a scalpel to my chest and carving out a piece of my lungs. But if I couldn’t keep the man, I had to keep the money. The next morning, I arrived at his attorney’s office in Midtown twenty minutes early. Carter arrived late. He was wearing the same charcoal Tom Ford suit from the night before, and on his left cuff was a faint, dark stain. Merlot. Serena’s favorite. Carter slid the revised settlement across the mahogany table. As I flipped through it, my finger paused. On top of the fifteen million and the Hamptons estate, he had added two more cars, a prime retail space in Tribeca, and a lifetime Centurion card linked directly to the Harrison Holdings corporate account. “I had them add it last night,” he said, not looking at me. I closed the leather folder and offered him a red-eyed smile. “You really don’t have to compensate me this much just because of her.” Carter’s jaw tightened. “It’s not because of her.” “Then is it because of me?” He didn’t answer. The notary cleared his throat, signaling it was time to sign. I didn’t press it. I picked up the heavy Montblanc pen and signed Nora Mercer on the dotted line. When the notary’s stamp hit the paper with a heavy thud, I couldn’t stop myself from looking up. Carter was already looking at me. Our eyes met, and for a second, the air in the room vanished. He was the first to look away. As we stepped out into the crisp New York air, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Want to get lunch?” A month ago, an unprompted lunch invitation from him would have sustained me for a week. Today, I just shook my head. “No. Serena is waiting for you.” Carter exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Nora, you don’t have to bring her into every single sentence.” Right on cue, his phone rang through the Bluetooth of his waiting town car. Serena’s spoiled, breathless voice filled the street. “Carter? Where are you? I don’t care what meeting you’re in, I need to see you in thirty minutes.” Carter glanced at me and muted the call. “Let me have my driver take you back.” “No need.” I took a half-step back, creating a physical boundary between us. I looked at him the way I would look at a stranger on the subway. “Happy new marriage, Mr. Harrison.” His face drained of color. I turned on my heel, dragging my suitcase down the pavement, finally letting the tears fall. I hadn’t made it half a block before my phone vibrated with a bank notification. Carter had just wired another three million into my account. I didn’t move out of the townhouse immediately. It wasn’t because I couldn’t bear to leave Carter. It was because his assistant, Davis, informed me the Hamptons deed transfer would take at least a week to clear due to back taxes. Carter had texted me, telling me to stay put. “No one is going to rush you out.” He was wrong. That afternoon, Serena arrived with a small army of bellhops carrying a dozen Rimowa trunks. She clicked into the foyer in her Louboutins, tossing her sunglasses at our housekeeper. “Clear out the south-facing primary suite for me.” The housekeeper looked at me, horrified. “Ms. Cross, that is Mrs. Harrison’s room.” Serena laughed. It was a sharp, grating sound. “What Mrs. Harrison? They signed the papers this morning. Do you honestly expect the future Mrs. Harrison to sleep in a guest room?” The two sycophantic friends trailing behind her giggled. “You just got back, Serena. It’s normal she doesn’t want to let go of the lifestyle,” one of them sneered. “Some people just don’t know their place. She kept your man warm for three years, now she wants to keep your bed warm? Pathetic.” I stood at the top of the stairs, my fingernails biting into my palms. Serena tilted her chin up, looking at me without a shred of remorse. “Nora. You’re still here?” I swallowed the bile in my throat. “The estate transfer isn’t finished. Carter told me to stay.” “Using Carter to threaten me?” Serena marched up the stairs until she was inches from my face. “Tell me something. If I called him right now and told him to throw you out on the street tonight, do you think he’d say no?” The blood drained from my face. She smiled, entirely satisfied. “Stop looking like you’re at a funeral. Carter was always mine. You just got lucky and picked up the scraps when I went to Europe.” I looked over her shoulder at the housekeeper. “Move my things to the guest room.” Serena blinked, clearly not expecting me to fold so quickly. “The primary is yours,” I added quietly. She scoffed, flipping her hair. “Smart girl.” Half an hour later, I was carrying my last box out of the primary suite. Serena was already standing at my vanity, digging through my jewelry box. She pulled out a heavy emerald necklace—a piece Carter had commissioned for me in Paris. She held it up to her collarbone, admiring herself in the mirror. “This is stunning.” “That belongs to me.” Serena raised an eyebrow. “Things Carter bought with Carter’s money? Since when are they yours?” She unclasped it and fastened it around her own neck. Then, she casually picked up a small velvet box from the vanity and tossed it into the wastebasket. “You borrowed my man for three years. I take one necklace. I’d say we’re more than even.” I stared at her, and the suffocating grief in my chest suddenly calcified into pure, white-hot rage. “Serena. If Carter wants to buy your forgiveness, that is his business. I’m not the one who left you at the altar. So don’t you dare come into my home and act like a feral dog.” Serena’s eyes widened. She raised her hand, aiming a vicious slap at my face. Before her palm could connect, a large hand clamped down on her wrist. Carter. I didn’t even hear him come up the stairs. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded, his voice dangerously low. Serena instantly yanked her arm back, her eyes welling with crocodile tears. “She insulted me!” Carter looked at me. I didn’t defend myself. I didn’t say a word. I just walked past them, reached into the wastebasket, and pulled out the velvet box she had thrown away. Inside was my wedding ring. Serena had thought it was bad luck, so she threw it in the trash. I wiped a speck of dust off the velvet, and suddenly, the tears I had been holding back spilled over, dropping silently onto the fabric. Carter’s gaze snapped to the box in my hands. His jaw locked. “Serena,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Apologize to her.” Serena looked at him like he had grown two heads. “You want me to apologize to her? Over some cheap, used trash? I don’t even want the stupid room anymore!” She pushed past him, sobbing dramatically as she ran down the stairs. Carter instinctively turned to go after her. As he brushed past me, I reached out and caught the edge of his sleeve. My fingers were trembling. I looked at the emerald necklace Serena had discarded on the vanity in her rush. “That was the first gift you ever gave me.” It was the year Carter first brought me to a Harrison family gala. The old-money crowd had whispered behind their hands, laughing at my middle-class background, saying I wasn’t fit to hold his coat. Carter had stood behind me, fastened that emerald around my neck in front of everyone, and whispered, “My wife doesn’t need anyone’s approval.” I had loved him for three agonizing years just because of that one sentence. Carter stared at my red, swollen eyes. The cold facade he usually wore finally cracked. His throat bobbed. But down in the driveway, a car engine revved aggressively. Slowly, carefully, he pulled his sleeve from my grip. “I need to make sure she’s okay.” I nodded, utterly hollowed out. I crouched down and began picking up the stray belongings that had spilled from my box. The next day, a representative from Van Cleef & Arpels arrived at the townhouse, carrying a custom emerald necklace worth three times the original. Along with the jewelry came a legal folder. Carter had transferred ten percent of Harrison Holdings’ luxury jewelry division into my name. His assistant, Davis, wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Mr. Harrison said… if you ever want jewelry in the future, you can just take it from your own company.” Since his true love was apparently worthless, I had no choice but to figure out how to make this divorce as lucrative as humanly possible. When Stella DuPont heard about the divorce, she dragged me to Soho House for martinis. Stella was infamous in Manhattan. She was unapologetically ruthless. At twenty-two, she married a tech heir. At twenty-six, she divorced him and married his billionaire father. Today, she had trusts, offshore accounts, and penthouses in three time zones. People called her a gold-digger. She would just sit in her vintage Porsche and say, “If I don’t dig for it, some other bitch will. I prefer the gold in my pocket.” I used to judge her. I used to believe that money tainted real love. But today, when I slid into the leather booth, I poured her a drink myself. “Teach me, Stella.” She took my divorce settlement and skimmed the pages, her perfectly manicured nails tapping the table. “Hamptons estate, fifteen in liquid, commercial real estate, a minority stake in a jewelry division. Not bad, Nora. Looks like your bleeding heart finally grew a brain.” I stared at the olive in my glass. She saw right through me. She sighed, her tone softening a fraction. “Still miss him?” “Yeah.” “Then why are you trying to bleed him dry?” I gripped my glass so tight my knuckles turned white. “He threw me away.” A tear slipped out, landing straight in my gin. “I refuse to walk away with neither the man nor the money.” Stella stared at me for a long moment. She pulled a silk napkin from the dispenser and shoved it into my hand. “Finally. A coherent thought.” She smoothed out the settlement on the table. “Listen to me. The beach house sounds sexy, but the property taxes and upkeep will burn through millions a year. The fifteen mil is cute for a normal person, but if you want to maintain the lifestyle you’re used to, it’ll be gone in a decade. The jewelry shares are the real prize, but ten percent? You have zero voting power.” “So what do I ask for?” “Stable yields. Appreciating assets. Controlling stakes in core subsidiaries.” Stella leaned back into the velvet banquette. “And most importantly: you never, ever ask for it directly.” I frowned. “How do I get him to give it to me if I don’t ask?” She rolled her eyes. “You know how to cry, don’t you?” “When it’s time to cry, you cry. When it’s time to walk away, you walk. Do not use your tears to guilt him into coming back to you. Use them to show him that you love him so deeply, you are willing to let it destroy you just so he can be happy.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Men aren’t afraid of greedy women, Nora. They are absolutely terrified of a woman who asks for nothing.” I committed every word to memory. That evening, the Harrison family hosted their annual charity gala at the Plaza. The invitations had been printed months ago, bearing both our names. After the divorce, I had fully intended to stay home. But Carter’s grandmother, Eleanor Harrison, called me herself. “Nora,” the matriarch’s voice was like iron. “As long as there is breath in my lungs, you are the granddaughter-in-law I acknowledge. Give an old woman some dignity and come to the gala.” I couldn’t say no to her. When I arrived at the ballroom, Carter and Serena were standing by the entrance, greeting the elite of New York. Serena was wearing a crimson Valentino gown, and sitting against her collarbone was the legendary Harrison sapphire. When she saw me, she immediately looped her arm through Carter’s. “Nora! You don’t mind, do you? Carter said he needed a plus-one tonight to save face. I just had to swoop in and rescue him.” I offered a perfectly serene smile. “Not at all.” Halfway through the evening, Eleanor took the stage. She tapped the microphone, the room falling silent. “Tonight, all proceeds from our silent auction will go toward establishing a new scholarship fund for underprivileged girls, permanently endowed in the name of the late Evelyn Mercer.” I froze, the champagne glass halting halfway to my lips. My mother had died when I was young. This foundation was a project I had been tirelessly working on for a year. Carter had promised to fund it, but when Serena came back to the States, he had been too distracted to sign the paperwork. Eleanor had done it for me. With red eyes, I walked up to the podium to give my thank-you speech. At the very end, I looked directly at Carter, who was standing near the front row. “And I want to extend my deepest gratitude to Mr. Harrison, for walking beside me through the most difficult three years of my life.” A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the ballroom. Everyone in that room knew about the divorce. My words weren’t a thank you. They were an obituary for our marriage. Carter stared up at me, his fingers gripping his crystal glass so tightly his knuckles were bone-white. Suddenly, Serena laughed. The sharp sound echoed off the high ceilings. “Nora, give it a rest.” She stepped forward, making sure all eyes were on her. “You get a divorce, you take the Hamptons house, you take millions in cash, and now you’re using your dead mother to play the victim?” She sneered. “What’s the matter? Miss being Mrs. Harrison so much you’re trying to guilt Carter into taking you back?” The room went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. I stood on the stage, the blood draining from my face. Carter stepped forward, his voice a furious bark. “Serena! That’s enough.” “Am I wrong?” she shot back. She knew Carter would protect her, so she had no fear. “She talks about how much she loves you, but her hand didn’t shake when she took the money. Fifteen million wasn’t enough, so now she needs a whole foundation just to put on a show?” I looked at the event coordinator. “I’m so sorry. I apologize for the disruption.” As I hurried down the steps of the stage, Carter lunged forward and grabbed my arm. “Nora. I swear I didn’t know she was going to—” “It’s fine.” I smiled, gently wiping a tear from my cheek. “She’s right, anyway. I’ve taken too much.” I pulled my arm free. “Cancel the foundation. And tomorrow, I’ll have my lawyers transfer the jewelry shares back to your portfolio.” Carter’s expression fractured. “Who told you to return anything?” “Serena doesn’t like it.” “Since when does she dictate what I do with my own assets?” Serena’s voice pitched into a shrill shriek. “Carter! What is that supposed to mean?” Carter didn’t even look at her. He gestured to Davis, who was standing by the exits. “Get the attorneys on the phone right now.” Ten minutes later, in front of the most powerful people in Manhattan, Carter Harrison formally announced he was endowing my mother’s foundation with an initial principal of fifty million dollars. The annual yield would permanently fund education for young women in need. Furthermore, he transferred two Class-A commercial high-rises in the Financial District directly into my name. “The foundation money is for the girls,” Carter said, looking only at me, completely ignoring the whispers in the room. “The real estate is for you.” I shook my head, my eyes swimming with tears. “It’s too much.” “Take it.” Carter’s voice was ragged. Stripped bare. “Consider it my debt to you.” After the gala, Serena’s hatred for me reached a boiling point. The next afternoon, she drove straight to the East Hampton estate. She ordered her private security to drag every box I had unpacked straight into the courtyard. By the time I rushed back from the city, I found my mother’s old photo albums floating in the center of the massive courtyard fountain. “Stop!” I sprinted past the guards and lunged into the water, desperately pulling the heavy, leather-bound books to my chest. They were soaked through. The ink on my mother’s youthful face was already blurring into watercolor streaks. Serena was lounging on a patio chair, swirling a glass of rosé. “They’re just some cheap pieces of paper. Why are you screaming like a dying animal?” I was shaking from head to toe. “Who gave you permission to come onto my property?” “It’s Carter’s house. I go where I want.” “It’s mine now.” Serena scoffed. “You really think you’re one of us now? Everything he gave you, I can make him take back with one phone call.” Her bodyguards stepped in front of her, blocking my path. I was forced to watch as one of her hired hands dumped the last box of my belongings straight into the deep end of the swimming pool. Inside was our framed wedding portrait. The heavy glass frame hit the water, sinking to the bottom, the glass splintering across Carter’s smiling face. Serena lifted her chin, triumphant. “See that? Fake is always fake. It doesn’t matter that you wore the dress or signed the marriage license. It doesn’t change the fact that the woman he loves is me.” I stared at the shattered portrait at the bottom of the pool. And suddenly, I was done playing the victim. I shoved past the massive bodyguard, raised my hand, and slapped Serena directly across the face. The sharp crack echoed off the stone courtyard. Serena stumbled back, clutching her cheek, her eyes wide with shock. “You hit me?” “I hit you,” I said, my voice eerily calm. I stepped closer, forcing her to back up toward the edge of the pool. “If Carter didn’t want me, that was between him and me. But you touched my mother’s things. I will kill you before I let you do that again.” Serena completely lost her mind. She shrieked and lunged at me, her hands twisting into my hair. We grappled near the edge. In the chaos, she planted her hands on my chest and shoved with all her might. I tumbled backward. The freezing water engulfed me instantly, rushing up my nose and down my throat. I couldn’t swim. Serena knew I couldn’t swim. During our second year of marriage, we had all been on a yacht in Miami. I had fallen overboard and nearly drowned. Serena had been there. Now, she stood safely on the concrete edge, looking down at me as I thrashed wildly in the deep end, my lungs burning for oxygen. “Beg me, Nora,” she laughed, a sick, euphoric sound. “You’re so good at playing the victim. Beg me, and I’ll tell the guards to fish you out.” I swallowed a mouthful of chlorinated water. The sky above me began to warp and blur as my body grew heavy, sinking lower into the blue. Just as my vision started to go black, a figure tore across the patio, diving violently into the water. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, hauling me to the surface. I broke the water, coughing violently as Carter dragged me to the shallow end and lifted me onto the concrete. His face was a mask of absolute terror. “Call 911!” he roared at the guards. Serena crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. “She jumped in herself to get attention, Carter. Stop buying her act.” Carter’s head snapped up. His eyes were murderous. “She doesn’t know how to swim.” Serena froze. For a second, she looked panicked, before rallying her indignation. “Well, she slapped me first! Look at my face!” Carter didn’t care. He was looking at my legs. Blood was pooling on the pristine concrete. When I had fallen, my calf had scraped against the jagged edge of the pool ladder. I was shivering violently, curled against Carter’s soaked chest. But as my mind cleared, I pushed my hands against his shoulders, fighting to get away from him. “Don’t… don’t fight with her because of me,” I gasped out. Carter’s arms tightened around me like a vice. “You’re bleeding, and you’re defending her?” The tears streamed down my face, mixing with the pool water. “Carter. I already lost. Please… just don’t let me lose all my dignity.” Something in his eyes shattered. It was as if I had driven a blade directly into his ribs. When the paramedics arrived, Carter carried me into the ambulance himself. His hands were shaking. His white dress shirt was soaked through, clinging to his chest, and he looked paler than I did. As the EMT cut away the fabric of my slacks, revealing the deep gash on my calf, I flinched. Carter immediately grabbed the EMT’s wrist. “Careful!” The medic looked up, annoyed. “Sir, I’m being as gentle as I can. If you keep grabbing me, I can’t stitch the wound.” Carter clenched his jaw and let go. I turned my head away, staring out the back window. “You should go back to Serena,” I whispered. His gaze snapped to my face. “Why would I do that?” “She’s the woman you’re going to marry.” Silence fell over the back of the ambulance. The only sound was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Carter didn’t say another word until we reached the hospital. At the VIP wing of Mount Sinai, it took seven stitches to close the wound. When the nurse brought in the discharge paperwork, Carter reached for the clipboard. “I’ll sign.” I placed my hand firmly over the paper. “Mr. Harrison. You are no longer my emergency contact.” The veins in the back of his hand strained against his skin. “Nora. Do you have to speak to me like this?” “How should I speak to you?” I looked up at him, my voice barely above a whisper. “Should I thank my ex-husband for saving my life?” Carter stared down at me. Slowly, painfully, he set the pen down on the mattress. Just as the doctor finished giving me my aftercare instructions, the door flew open. Serena marched in. She had changed into a dry silk blouse, but the red mark on her cheek was still visible. She immediately started yelling. “You left me at the house with the police questioning me so you could sit here and hold her hand?” Carter turned slowly to face her. “Apologize.” “You’re telling me to apologize again?” She laughed in disbelief, pointing to her cheek. “She assaulted me! Did you not see that?” “You destroyed the only photos she had left of her mother,” Carter said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “And then you pushed a woman who cannot swim into the deep end of a pool.” “She slipped!” “The security cameras caught everything, Serena.” Serena’s face twitched. But she was so used to him cleaning up her messes that she quickly lifted her chin, defiant. “So what? She swallowed some water. She’s sitting right there, isn’t she? She’s fine.” The temperature in the room plummeted. “Get out,” Carter said. “Carter—” “I said, get the fuck out.” Serena glared at me, her chest heaving, before a cruel smile twisted her lips. “You’re good, Nora. I’ll give you that. You pretend to walk away, but you keep throwing yourself in front of him.” She sneered. “The shares. The skyscrapers. What is it this time? Hoping a little cut on your leg will guilt him into buying you another company?” The air in the room vanished. I pulled my knees up, clutching the damp, ruined photo album to my chest, and let the tears fall, slow and heavy. “I don’t want it,” I sobbed. Carter frowned. “What?” “The jewelry shares. The buildings. The Hamptons house. I don’t want any of it anymore.” I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and dialed my lawyer on speakerphone. “Mr. Davis? Please draft a revocation of all assets transferred to me in the settlement. Everything I took from Carter Harrison goes back to him immediately.” Carter lunged forward, snatching the phone from my hand and ending the call. “Nora, have you lost your mind?” I just looked at him, completely hollow. He seemed to realize how harsh he sounded. His breathing hitched. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and forced a trembling smile. “I’m sorry.” Carter looked physically sick. “I didn’t mean it like that.” “It doesn’t matter.” I threw off the hospital blanket and swung my legs off the bed, wincing as the stitches pulled. Carter instinctively reached out to steady me. I slapped his hands away. “Don’t touch me.” He froze, his hands hovering in mid-air. Dragging my injured leg, I limped toward the door. As I passed Serena, a smug, victorious smirk spread across her face. But before I could cross the threshold, Carter’s voice rang out, cold and absolute. “Davis.” His assistant, who had been hovering in the hallway, jumped. “Yes, Mr. Harrison?” “Transfer The Cove in Montauk into Nora’s name immediately.” Serena’s smirk vanished instantly. Davis looked stunned. “Sir? The entire hotel property?” “The entire hotel.” Carter looked directly into my eyes, enunciating every single word. “If she doesn’t want what I gave her… then I will keep giving her things until she takes them.”
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