Elara's POV
I know something is wrong the moment I see Celeste's smile.
She's standing by the champagne tower in the hotel ballroom, wearing a red dress that's way too tight, and when she sees me, her lips curl up like a cat that just caught a mouse. Not a happy smile. Not a "congratulations on your engagement" smile. A mean one. The kind that says I know something you don't know.
My stomach twists.
"Elara! There you are!" My best friend Sophie grabs my arm, pulling me toward the crowd. "Everyone wants to toast the bride-to-be! Where's Trevor?"
That's a good question. Where is Trevor?
I scan the ballroom. Two hundred people are here celebrating my engagement party—business partners, family friends, hotel employees from my father's company. Crystal chandeliers sparkle overhead. A jazz band plays in the corner. Waiters carry trays of fancy appetizers. Everyone is drinking and laughing and having a wonderful time.
Everyone except me.
Because my fiancé has disappeared. Again.
"He said he had an important phone call," I tell Sophie, trying to sound normal. But my voice comes out weird and tight.
Sophie frowns. "He's been gone for twenty minutes, Elara. That's rude."
She's right. It is rude. But Trevor has been doing rude things a lot lately. Canceling our dinner plans. Not answering my texts. Looking at his phone and smiling at messages he won't show me. When I ask what's wrong, he says, "Nothing, babe. You're being paranoid."
But I'm not paranoid. I'm right.
I can feel it in my bones—something bad is happening.
"I'm going to find him," I say.
"Want me to come?" Sophie asks.
"No, stay here. Make sure Dad doesn't notice we're both gone."
I leave the ballroom and head into the hotel corridor. The Sinclair Grand Manhattan is my family's flagship hotel—twenty-seven floors of luxury rooms, fancy restaurants, and conference halls. I've known these hallways my entire life. My mom used to bring me here when I was little, before she got sick. Before she died. Before Dad married Victoria and brought Celeste into our lives.
Before everything fell apart.
I check the hotel lobby first. No Trevor. I check the bar. Not there either. My heels click on the marble floor as I walk faster. Where could he be?
Then I remember—the executive suites on the twelfth floor. Trevor has a key card. He sometimes uses them for "private business meetings."
I take the elevator up. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. The hallway on the twelfth floor is quiet. Too quiet. Most of the suites are empty tonight because of the party downstairs.
That's when I hear it.
Laughter. Coming from Suite 1217.
Trevor's laugh. And someone else's. A woman's laugh. High-pitched and giggly.
My hands start shaking.
No. Please, no.
I walk toward the door like I'm in a dream. A nightmare. My body feels cold and hot at the same time. I press my ear against the door.
"God, you're so much better than her," Trevor's voice says.
A woman giggles. "Stop it. We shouldn't talk about Elara."
"Why not? She's boring. Perfect little Elara with her perfect manners and her perfect business plans. She doesn't even like sex that much."
My whole body goes numb.
"Trevor, that's mean," the woman says. But she's still giggling. Like it's funny. Like I'm a joke.
I know that voice.
Oh God. I know that voice.
My hand moves by itself. I pull out my master key card—the one that opens every door in this hotel. The one Dad gave me when I turned sixteen. "You're a Sinclair," he said. "This hotel is your responsibility."
I slide the card through the lock.
The door opens.
And my entire world explodes.
Trevor is on the bed. Naked. And Celeste—my stepsister, my supposed best friend, the girl who braided my hair and shared secrets with me for ten years—is naked too, sitting on top of him.
They both turn and look at me.
For one horrible second, nobody moves. Nobody breathes.
Then Celeste smiles. That same mean smile from earlier. "Oops," she says. But she doesn't sound sorry. She sounds happy.
Trevor doesn't even look embarrassed. He just sighs, like I'm annoying him. "Elara. This isn't what it looks like."
"You're NAKED!" I scream. My voice doesn't sound like me. It sounds like a wounded animal. "You're naked with my SISTER!"
"Stepsister," Celeste corrects, climbing off Trevor slowly. She wraps herself in the bedsheet—my family's hotel sheet—and stands there looking at me. "And honestly, Elara, you should thank me. I'm doing you a favor."
"A FAVOR?" I can't stop screaming. Tears are pouring down my face. "How is this a favor?"
"Because Trevor doesn't love you," Celeste says simply. "He told me. You're just a business deal to him. Your daddy arranged this whole engagement for the hotel merger with the Ashford family. Trevor never wanted you. He wanted someone fun. Someone exciting. Someone who isn't a boring robot."
Every word is a knife in my chest.
Trevor finally gets up and puts on his pants. He doesn't even hurry. He's calm. Like this is no big deal. "Come on, Elara. Don't be dramatic. You had to know our relationship was about business."
"I loved you!" I sob.
"No, you didn't," he says coldly. "You loved the idea of me. You loved having a perfect fiancé for your perfect life. But you never really wanted me. You're too busy trying to make your daddy proud. Well, guess what? It's exhausting being your accessory."
I can't breathe. The room is spinning.
Celeste walks closer to me, the sheet trailing behind her like a wedding dress. "I win, big sister. I finally beat you at something. Trevor chose me. Not you. Me."
That's when I understand. This isn't about Trevor at all. This is about Celeste and me. About all the years she spent jealous of me. About every time Dad praised my work and ignored her. Every time someone said I was smarter or prettier or better.
She did this to destroy me.
And it worked.
I turn and run. I hear Trevor call my name, but I don't stop. I run down the hallway, into the elevator, through the lobby. People stare at me—their mascara is running, my fancy dress is wrinkled—but I don't care.
I have to get out of here.
I have to run.
But there's one person I need to see first. One person who can fix this. One person who will choose me.
My father.
I burst into his office on the second floor. He's sitting at his desk, drinking whiskey, looking at paperwork.
"Dad!" I gasp, crying so hard I can barely talk. "Dad, something terrible happened! Trevor and Celeste—they were—in bed—together—"
He doesn't even look up.
"I know," he says quietly.
The world stops.
"You... know?"
Finally, he raises his eyes to meet mine. His face is cold. Disappointed. "Celeste told me this morning. She and Trevor are in love. They want to get married."
"But—but I'm engaged to him! We're having a party right now! Downstairs!"
Dad takes a long drink of whiskey. "That's unfortunate timing. But these things happen."
"Unfortunate TIMING?" I can't believe what I'm hearing. "Dad, she betrayed me! He betrayed me! You have to do something! Cancel the merger! Fire them! Something!"
"Elara." His voice is sharp now. Final. "Be realistic. The Ashford deal is worth forty million dollars. Our company needs it. If Trevor wants to marry Celeste instead of you, that's his choice. The merger will proceed."
"So I don't matter?" My voice breaks. "Your daughter doesn't matter?"
"Of course you matter," he says, but his eyes are empty. "But you're being emotional. If you couldn't keep Trevor interested, that's on you. You've always been too focused on work. Too cold. Too much like your mother."
He says "your mother" like it's an insult. Like my beautiful, kind, dead mother was a problem.
"Celeste will marry Trevor," Dad continues. "She'll take over your position as Director of Operations. It makes sense—she'll be family with the Ashfords. You..." He waves his hand like he's swatting a fly. "You can take a break. Travel. Find yourself."
"You're FIRING me?"
"I'm giving you time off."
"Because I got cheated on? Because your wife's daughter stabbed me in the back?"
Dad slams his glass down. "Enough! I've made my decision. Celeste and Trevor will marry in three months. The merger happens. End of discussion."
I stare at my father—this man who held me when Mom died, who taught me about hotels, who I've spent my entire life trying to make proud—and I finally see the truth.
He doesn't love me.
Maybe he never did.
"Get out of my office, Elara," he says tiredly. "And clean yourself up before you go back to the party. You look like a mess."
I don't go back to the party.
I walk out of that hotel, out of that life, and I don't stop walking until I reach the street. I pull out my phone and open a travel app. I book the first ticket I can find.
Miami. Leaving in two hours.
I don't even know why Miami. It doesn't matter. Anywhere is better than here.
I get in a taxi and tell the driver, "Airport. Fast."
As we drive away, I look back at the Sinclair Grand Hotel—the building that was supposed to be my future, my legacy, my home.
It looks like a prison now.
My phone buzzes. A text from Celeste: Thanks for the fiancé, sis! 💕
I turn off my phone and close my eyes.
But I can't close my mind. Because one thought keeps repeating over and over:
Everyone I loved betrayed me. My fiancé. My stepsister. My father.
And now I'm completely alone.
The taxi pulls up to the airport. I pay the driver and walk inside, dragging my small suitcase. The terminal is crowded with travelers. I find my gate and sit down, staring at nothing.
Then I hear an announcement: "Attention passengers. All flights to Miami have been cancelled due to severe weather. Please see the gate agent for rebooking."
I start laughing.
Because of course. Of course, this would happen. Of course, the universe would trap me here when all I want is to disappear.
I'm still laughing—or maybe crying, I can't tell anymore—when I feel someone watching me.
I look up.
And across the terminal, through all the angry travelers and chaos, I see him.
A man. Tall. Dark hair. Expensive suit. Standing alone by the window, staring at the storm outside.
He turns his head.
Our eyes meet.
And something inside my broken heart stutters back to life.