appliances, a refrigerator that could probably order its own groceries. But it

d, pulling open empty drawer after e

ing for nearby grocery stores. The hotel concierge had mentioned a high-end organic

ious. "There's a 92% probability Olivia will get i

rmal. She had to be normal. Doctors bought groceries. Mothers fed their children. She was both,

ferent. Because somewhere in this city-perhaps in

ught down and head

aisles with practiced efficiency, filling her cart with vegetables, grass-fed beef, and the specific brand of pasta Olivia had declared

he hea

, dripping with a sweetness

tt Bea

rawberries. She didn't turn. She didn't need to.

carrying across the dairy aisle. "Though honestly, after the summer we s

se. Low. Familiar in a way that

one would notice anything

she had five years ago-impeccably dressed, blonde hair perfectly styled, a smile that had charmed New York society w

a wedge of aged Gruyère with mil

nder her grip, her knuckles turning white. The memory of that night on the yacht-Scarlett's satisfied smil

ed lungs. Not yet. It wasn't time. Revenge was a surgery, not a street

an unlucky one, but New York's elite all shopped at the same handful of establishments. It was why she

expected to ga

hand. No ring. Five years, and she still hadn't managed to becom

display, and for one terrifying sec

unched from M

lity of him-taller than she remembered, his shoulders broader, an air of cold authority radiating from him like a winter chill-was a shock to

knocked against a display of artisanal pasta sauces. A jar of organic tom

, coming to a stop directly besid

then stepped around it without a second look in her directi

ling. She remembered making him pasta from scratch, the scent of garlic and basil

n walked quickly to the checkout, her purchases a

scending pity, "will do anything to get Mr. Astor'

social climber, another woman angling for Julian's attention. M

ve glance, but for a split second, his eyes narrowed. Something in the line of her jaw, the intensity in her eyes as she met his gaze, s

adn't realized she'd b

o The Astor Grand in a daze. The encounter had been a warning. She was in their t

lounge with the children while housekeeping finished preparing the room-and headed for the elevator. As she stepped out on the penthouse floor,

known he frequented the hotel-it was an Astor property, after all-but this

suffocating. He was so close she could smell the faint, clean scent of his cologne, a scent that once meant home. His gaze lingered on her for a

entered suite 48A and locked the door behind her, leaning ag

hotel's most exclusive suites for families or security details who needed to occupy adjoining rooms. It was supposed to be locked from bo

nife on the cutting board was a comfort. Caleb was engrossed in his tablet, his brow furrowed in concentration

usiness call in the other room. He was supposed to be resting. The doctors always said he needed to rest. But he was bored, and

th the concierge about the suite's security arrangements. Just a peek. That was all. But th

his bed and padded across the thick carpet to the connecting door. He w

the enormous king-sized bed on the oth

kitchen, her eyes wide with excite

see! I found

, curled up on the vast, king-sized bed, fast asleep, was a small boy in a perfec

the mirror im