From Jilted Wife To The Tycoon's Queen

Harper gasped and opened her eyes. The nightmare of the flashing cameras faded. She was lying in a massive, incredibly soft king-size bed.

She looked around. The room was decorated in cold shades of black, white, and gray. It was a luxury guest bedroom she did not recognize.

She tried to sit up. A piece of medical tape pulled at the skin on her arm. She looked down and saw an empty IV bag hanging from a metal stand next to the bed.

She touched her chest. Her wet suit was gone. She was wearing a clean, oversized men's silk shirt.

The bedroom door opened quietly. A middle-aged butler in a crisp uniform walked in carrying a silver tray. He smiled when he saw her awake.

"You are in Mr. Donovan's private penthouse," the butler said softly. "You have been asleep for two days with a severe fever."

Harper's stomach dropped. The name Donovan triggered an immediate alarm in her brain. Her muscles tensed.

"The maids changed your clothes," the butler added quickly. "The doctor said your fever is broken." He placed a glass of water and two pills on the nightstand and walked out.

Harper grabbed her phone from the table. The screen lit up. She had ninety-nine missed calls and texts from Chase.

She opened the messages. The first few were angry: Where the hell are you? The recent ones were desperate: Pick up the phone, Harper. Please.

Harper stared at the words. A cold, mocking smile touched her lips. She switched the phone to silent and tossed it onto the blankets.

She pushed the covers off and stood up. Her bare feet sank into the thick wool rug. She walked toward the half-open bedroom door.

Harper walked out of the bedroom and into the massive living room. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed the skyline of Manhattan.

Antoni stood with his back to her at the kitchen island. He was holding a cup of black coffee and reading a tablet.

Harper cleared her throat. The sound broke the heavy silence. Antoni turned around. His eyes were completely blank and cold again.

"Thank you for the help," Harper said. Her voice was stiff and guarded. "Do I owe you anything for the medical bills?"

Antoni set his coffee cup down. He looked at her like she was a piece of trash on his shoe. "I just didn't want your dead body dirtying the front steps of my building."

The words felt like a slap. Harper locked her knees and stood up straighter. "I will leave immediately."

Antoni pressed a button on the intercom. "Alex, get a car ready. Take Ms. Ryan downstairs."

Harper went back to the bedroom. She changed into her own clothes, which had been washed and ironed. She walked into the elevator without looking back. As the metal doors slid shut, Antoni stared at the space where she had been standing, his jaw clenched tight.

The Donovan driver dropped Harper off at the front entrance of her Tribeca loft building. She stepped out of the car, thanking the driver quietly. But as she stood on the sidewalk, she realized she couldn't just hide. She needed her passport and trust fund documents from the safe. She hailed a passing yellow cab and gave the driver the address to Long Island. An hour later, the cab dropped her at the front gates of the Young estate. The air here felt fake and suffocating. She punched the code into the iron gates and walked up the gravel path.

She walked into the grand foyer. Chase was pacing back and forth across the marble floor like a trapped animal.

He heard her heels click. He spun around. Relief flashed in his eyes. He ran toward her.

He reached out to grab her shoulders. Harper stepped sharply to the side. His hands grabbed empty air.

Chase swallowed his anger. He put on a fake, gentle face. "I have been going crazy. My mother released that statement to the press, not me."

Harper stared at him. She did not say a word. She walked past him toward the stairs.

Chase jumped in front of her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet jewelry box. He opened it and shoved it toward her face.

"I know you are hurt," Chase said, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I had someone bid on this limited-edition pink diamond in Paris. It is an apology."

Harper looked at the red box. Her eyes did not show surprise. They only showed deep, exhausting disgust.