Nick Sullivan stood motionless by the floor-to-ceiling window of his Chicago penthouse, watching the city lights flicker below. The city never truly slept, and neither did the man who owned this sprawling glass-and-steel sanctuary. Every bit of this luxury was the result of years of grueling work, calculated risks, and an unrelenting drive to be number one. But tonight, even the most brilliant skyline couldn’t drown out the cold fury burning inside him.
Tiffany Smith, the woman he had intended to marry, had shattered his belief in loyalty in a single afternoon. Just a few months ago, she had walked out on him for a business rival—a man she claimed offered “more excitement” and “less predictability.” Nick gave a grim half-smile at the memory. Excitement? He had been building a secure, perfect world for them, only to find he was just a pawn in her social climbing. It wasn’t just the breakup that stung; it was the public humiliation that had bruised his reputation in the city’s tight-knit business circles.
For weeks, he had replayed the betrayal, but tonight, the anger turned into a plan. Tiffany needed to see that he hadn’t just moved on—he had found something better. Nick’s strategy was simple: marry a woman who was the exact opposite of Tiffany. He needed someone genuine, someone whose simple presence would highlight how fake and manufactured his ex-fiancée really was.
It felt like a solid business move—a union born of pragmatism rather than sentiment. At dawn, Nick went for a walk across his suburban estate. The morning air was crisp, and the birds were just starting their routine. Near the back of the property, he spotted Alice Peters, the young woman who handled his landscaping.
She was working on her knees in the dirt, carefully pruning a row of boxwoods, oblivious to the soil on her hands or the sweat on her brow. There was a quiet competence in her movements that made him slow his pace. The morning sun caught her face, and the sheer focus she gave her work was strangely captivating. Nick stood back for a moment, watching her in the silence.
“Good morning, Mr. Sullivan,” she said softly, noticing him. Her voice was steady and polite. “Good morning, Alice,” he replied, his interest piqued. “How long have you been taking care of these grounds?”
Comments are closed.