Chapter 1: The Ex-Wife Nobody Knows

My blind date sneered at me, lips curling with practiced arrogance. "My uncle is Adrian Blackwell. You know him, right? Everybody does."

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, like just dropping that name was supposed to blow me away. There was a cocky glint in his eye, convinced he was someone special just by association. The coffee shop’s air conditioning hummed, but it didn’t do a thing for the heat coming off his ego.

"Yeah, I know." I tried not to roll my eyes.

I kept my voice neutral. My fingers traced the condensation on my iced latte. He didn’t notice the way my eyes lingered on the window, half wishing I was anywhere else. The name Adrian Blackwell hung between us like a velvet rope at an exclusive club—No entry for the likes of me, I thought.

"He’s only a few years older than me, but he’s already running the family business."

He puffed up a little—pride by proxy. I could practically see him practicing that smirk in the mirror, probably thought that smirk was his best move.

"Impressive."

I let the word hang in the air, just polite enough to keep the conversation moving. My mouth curled into a practiced smile. The kind you wear at family reunions. Or on awkward first dates like this.

"Yeah, my uncle’s really something. Handsome, loaded. Too bad he’s so cold. Nearly thirty and still hasn’t dated anyone."

He said it like it was some kind of tragedy. I wondered if he even realized he was bragging and complaining in the same breath. I took another sip of my latte, the ice clinking against my teeth, and nodded like I cared.

"Is that so?" I took a sip, keeping the truth to myself.

The divorce papers for Adrian Blackwell and me are still tucked in my nightstand drawer.

Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I pull them out. I just stare at the signatures. It’s like looking at a ghost. My own handwriting. His, sharp and precise. Proof that once, for a moment, I was more than just a name in someone else’s family drama.

The second time I met Lucas Harrington, he still looked annoyed with me.

I didn’t need to guess—his irritation was written all over his face. He barely looked at me, fiddling with his phone and checking his watch like he had somewhere better to be. The restaurant’s low lighting did nothing to soften the sharpness of his scowl.

A friend joked, "So, when are you two tying the knot?" He waggled his eyebrows, grinning, like he was auditioning for a sitcom.

The words were meant to tease, but the air turned thick. Lucas’s face darkened immediately. "It’s just a setup. Don’t get any ideas."

He sat as far from me as possible, making it clear he wanted nothing to do with me.

He scooted his chair back, creating a gulf between us. Big enough to fit all his expectations and disappointments. The distance felt almost comical—like we were two strangers forced to share a booth.

I couldn’t take it anymore, so I excused myself to the restroom.

I took my time, letting the cool water from the bathroom faucet run over my hands. My reflection looked tired—the kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix. I dabbed my cheeks, squared my shoulders, and tried to find my composure.

Standing outside the door, I overheard someone inside say, "Elena Monroe is pretty. You don’t have to embarrass her like that."

Their voices echoed off the tile. Hushed, but not enough to hide the edge in Lucas’s reply.

"So what if she’s pretty?" Lucas replied, arrogance in his voice. "She grew up in the sticks—a total bumpkin. Me agreeing to meet her is already doing her a favor."

The words stung. Not that I hadn’t heard worse. There was a smugness in his tone that made me want to laugh and cry all at once. It was the kind of insult that didn’t even bother to hide behind manners.

"But she’s still the Monroes’ biological daughter..."

There was a pause, like his friend was trying to come up with a reason to be nicer. The silence stretched, heavy with the weight of what wasn’t being said.

If you like her so much, marry her.

His friend choked on his words, then forced a couple of awkward laughs.

The laughter was brittle, shattering in the quiet hallway. I could picture his friend shifting uncomfortably, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

Well, with Adrian Blackwell as your uncle, no wonder you wouldn’t be interested in Elena.

The name came up again, like a golden ticket. It was always about connections in this town.

"My uncle would never let me marry a girl like that."

Lucas’s worship of his uncle was obvious.

His voice softened, almost reverent. You’d think Adrian Blackwell was some kind of legend, not just a man with a big bank account and a cold smile.

He added, "Why isn’t Autumn Monroe here? If we really have to form a family alliance with the Monroes, I’d rather pick Autumn."

Autumn Monroe is my younger sister.

The name was a knife. Sharp, familiar, always close to the bone. I pressed my lips together, holding back the ache that threatened to rise.

I went missing when I was three.

Funny how families try to fill holes. I was a shadow in their memories, and Autumn became the light that filled the space I left behind. Sometimes I wonder if she ever felt the weight of being a replacement.

Since then, Autumn has been the Monroes’ only daughter, showered with all their love.

Photos of her lined the walls at home. Birthday parties, school recitals, vacations I never took. Her laughter echoed in every room, even before I came back.

Six months ago, the Monroes finally acknowledged me and brought me home.

It was awkward. Like trying on a pair of shoes that almost fit, but pinched in all the wrong places. Everyone smiled too much, talked too loud, as if trying to convince themselves this was normal.

I hadn’t even gotten comfortable before they started pushing me into setups.

I barely had time to unpack. Then came the parade of suitors. Every week, a new name, a new dinner, a new round of polite interrogation. It was exhausting.

Word was, the guy they set me up with was a hotshot in Maple Heights business circles. Sure enough, when we met for the first time, Lucas Harrington said, "To me, only Autumn is the real Monroe daughter."

He didn’t even bother to lower his voice. The words landed between us like a slap. I felt my cheeks burn.

"Mm-hmm, I agree."

I didn’t get angry, which surprised him.

He blinked, thrown off by my calm. Maybe he expected tears or anger, but I was too tired for either. I just wanted to get through the evening and go home.

Right then, I really didn’t want to go back in and face Lucas again.

The thought of another forced conversation made my stomach twist. I lingered in the hallway.

Suddenly, Lucas glanced at his phone and said, "My uncle just texted. He’s here—getting on the elevator."

He straightened up, smoothing his shirt like he was about to meet the king. Even his posture changed, suddenly more alert.

As soon as he finished speaking, the elevator doors in the hallway slid open.

The metallic chime echoed. Everyone seemed to pause for a heartbeat. I felt my own breath catch, anticipation prickling along my skin.

A tall, slender figure stepped out. His suit fit perfectly, silver buttons catching the light. He looked just as cold as I remembered.

Long time no see.

My ex-husband.

The air seemed to thicken. Memories rushed back. Late-night conversations. The quiet comfort of shared silence. The sharp sting of goodbye. For a second, I forgot where I was.

The main reason Lucas is so popular is his uncle—Adrian Blackwell.

Weird, right? Only a few years older, but everyone calls him "Uncle Adrian."

There’s something almost legendary about Adrian in this town. People whisper his name like he’s a character in some Southern gothic novel. He’s the kind of man who makes people stand a little straighter. All he has to do is walk into a room.

Adrian Blackwell is the classic golden boy of Maple Heights, born with a silver spoon. The Blackwell family business is enormous, and he’s the sole heir. Not even thirty, he’s already shown extraordinary talent. Most people can’t get close to him. So they settle for Lucas.

That’s what everyone knows.

What they don’t know is, a year ago, Adrian Blackwell got married.

In a small Southern town, on a whim, he registered a marriage with a woman he’d only known for a month. No wedding, no family notice.

I felt the ache of that, sharp as ever.

Six months later, they split up and went their separate ways.

Adrian Blackwell is known for being rigid. Meticulous. That was probably the most reckless thing he’s ever done.

Unfortunately, I was that ex-wife.

Adrian saw me. His steps paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on my face.

His eyes—usually so unreadable—softened for just a split second. I felt exposed, like he could see every thought I was trying to hide. My heart thudded against my ribs, stubborn and loud.

Just then, someone appeared behind him.

"Sis, why are you standing at the door?"

It was Autumn, smiling brightly.

Her voice was light. Playful. Like nothing in the world could bother her. She reached out and looped her arm through mine, like we’d always been close.

Seeing you standing there, I thought you were the waitress!

The two of them stood close together.

They looked like a picture from a family magazine. Her bright, easy charm. His quiet, distant composure. For a moment, I felt invisible.

I only recently learned that Autumn has known Adrian since she was little. There’s an eight-year age gap. He’s always looked out for her.

They shared inside jokes and old memories I wasn’t part of. Sometimes, I wondered if I’d ever catch up to their history.

I said, "I was just about to go in. What about you? Don’t you have finals today?"

I tried to keep my tone light, but there was a nervous edge to my words. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, searching her face for any sign of resentment.

"Already finished. Adrian came to pick me up from school."

She beamed. Practically bounced on her toes. The pride in her voice was unmistakable—Adrian was her hero, and she wanted everyone to know it.

I gave Adrian a polite smile. "Thanks for going out of your way."

I kept my voice steady. But my hands clenched around my purse. Old habits die hard.

"Oh, it’s no trouble. He’s used to it," Autumn said, pushing open the door and heading inside.

She tossed the words over her shoulder, not waiting for a response. Adrian nodded once. His expression unreadable. And followed her in.

The moment she entered, she became everyone’s darling. Pretty, young, adored by all—including our parents.

The room seemed to brighten when she walked in. People gravitated toward her, drawn by her laughter and easy grace. I watched from the doorway, an outsider at my own family’s gathering.

I sat in the most secluded corner, out of the light, with no one to talk to me.

The shadows felt safer. I sipped my drink and listened to the chatter, letting their words wash over me like white noise.

The conversation turned to Adrian Blackwell. Of course.

His name was like a spark—everyone perked up, eager to share stories or rumors. I could feel their eyes darting toward him, measuring, admiring, speculating.

"If you ask me, Lucas doesn’t need to rush. Adrian isn’t married either—he can wait."

There was laughter, a ripple of teasing. Lucas rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Lucas nodded. "Exactly."

After that, he shot me a slightly contemptuous look.

His gaze lingered, full of silent judgment. I met his eyes and then looked away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Adrian, do you have anyone in mind?

The question cut through the noise. Conversations stilled, everyone waiting for his answer.

"No," came that familiar voice.

His tone was flat. Final. A few people exchanged glances, disappointed but not surprised.

"Are you dating anyone?"

The questions kept coming, relentless. I felt a flicker of sympathy for him.

"No."

He didn’t elaborate, just let the word drop like a stone.

"Adrian, have you really never dated anyone?"

There was a nervous titter, someone trying to lighten the mood.

"Seriously? Then are you still a vir—"

The speaker caught himself just in time, glancing nervously at Adrian’s expression.

The tension in the room spiked. For a moment, no one breathed. Adrian’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move.

Luckily, he didn’t lose his cool.

Autumn jumped in to answer for him, "You guessed right—he is. His head’s always full of work. Where would he find time to date? You guys should stop rubbing it in."

Her words broke the tension. Everyone laughed, grateful for the distraction.

Everyone finally relaxed. "Only you would dare say that."

There was a chorus of agreement, and Autumn basked in the attention. Adrian just shook his head, a faint smile ghosting across his lips.

Autumn wanted to add something, but suddenly there was the sharp sound of a glass hitting the table. It wasn’t loud, but it was jarring.

The noise cut through the laughter. Heads turned, and the room fell silent.

"Who says I still am?" Adrian spoke abruptly, his tone stiff and sharp.

His words landed like a thunderclap. People stared, caught off guard by his candor.

Everyone fell silent, staring at him in shock.

No one knew what to say. The silence stretched, awkward and heavy.

No matter how much they pressed, they couldn’t get anything more out of him. All they knew was that Adrian himself admitted he’d been with a woman before.

People exchanged looks, speculation already swirling. I kept my eyes on the table, pretending not to notice.

Autumn’s expression tightened. She didn’t notice that, in the dim light, Adrian’s gaze flicked over to me.

A flash of something—hurt, confusion—crossed her features. Adrian’s eyes lingered on me for a fraction of a second, then shifted away.

Not that I cared about the topic at all. Luckily, no one was paying attention to me, so I quietly slipped out.

I moved quietly. My footsteps muffled by the carpet. The hallway felt like a sanctuary—cool and quiet.

A few days later, under my parents’ pressure, I met with Lucas again.

This time, it was a bowling alley—neon lights, the smell of nachos and shoe spray in the air. Lucas looked annoyed, his jaw tight.

He was clearly annoyed, like I was the one chasing after him.

He barely glanced at me, already picking out a bowling ball, like he was eager to get this over with.

"I heard you’re really into me?" he said offhandedly, tossing a bowling ball down the lane.

The ball thudded down the lane, wobbling before knocking over a few pins. He didn’t even look back at me.

Lucas, let me be direct. There’s no way I’m marrying you. I hope you get the hint and explain it to our families and whoever set this up.

My voice was steady, maybe a little too sharp. I was tired of dancing around the truth.

"I already did."

He sounded almost defensive, as if he’d done me a favor.

"What?"

I couldn’t help the surprise in my voice. He looked away, avoiding my eyes.

"I told them you’re arrogant and narcissistic, and I’m not interested. Told them to stop arranging these meetings."

He looked smug.

The silence stretched. I watched him, waiting for the punchline.

I took the ball from his hand and rolled it down the next lane. Strike.

The crash of the pins was oddly satisfying. I turned, arched an eyebrow. Dared him to challenge me.

"And now there’s something else," I said. "You’re not even that good at bowling."

A small smile tugged at my lips. For the first time that night, I felt a flicker of amusement.

"How do you know how to bowl?"

He looked genuinely surprised, as if athletic skill was something I shouldn’t possess.

I play badminton and tennis too. Want to compete?

Lucas was stunned. Did he really think a kid from the country couldn’t do anything?

He started asking me all sorts of questions. Gradually, the way he looked at me changed.

His tone softened. Curiosity replacing arrogance. For a moment, we were just two people, not pawns in someone else’s game.

"Elena, you’re not quite what I expected."

His words hung in the air, honest and almost admiring. I shrugged, not sure how to respond.

Whatever. I just wanted to eat, finish this date, and go home.

I checked my phone, already planning my escape route. The night felt endless.

He picked the restaurant for dinner. In the middle of the meal, he excused himself, and when he came back, he was holding a jewelry box.

He slid it across the table. His expression unreadable. The box was small, wrapped in silver ribbon.

"A gift for you."

"You actually prepared a gift?"

I couldn’t hide my surprise. He grinned, almost sheepish.

"Just bought it," he admitted, surprisingly honest. "From that silver shop across the street."

I knew that place—custom silver jewelry, unique designs, all handmade, and much pricier than other shops.

It was the kind of store you only went into if you wanted to impress someone. Or show off.

"Why give me a gift?"

I studied his face, searching for the catch.

"I got a new impression of you today. Thought we could get to know each other better."

He said it simply. No trace of his usual swagger. For a second, he seemed almost vulnerable.

I laughed. "Please don’t. I know when to take a hint."

My laughter was light. But my heart felt heavy. I didn’t want to give him hope where there was none.

"Then let me be the clueless one," Lucas grinned. "Starting tomorrow, I’ll be the one asking you out."

He winked, trying to charm me. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

Honestly, when he drops the arrogance, he’s kind of handsome. If he had even a third of Adrian Blackwell’s looks, he’d be a knockout.

I caught myself staring for a second too long. I shook my head, clearing away the thought.

Seeing I didn’t reply, he asked, "Do you like the necklace?"

He watched me carefully. Anticipation flickering in his eyes.

"Thank you for the gift, but—"

I hesitated, searching for the right words. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I couldn’t accept.

"No need to be polite. I called your sister just now. She suggested I buy this. I’ll have to thank her later."

My polite smile vanished instantly.

The realization hit me like a punch. I clenched my fists under the table. Fought to keep my expression neutral.

Autumn, of course.

No wonder. She knows I’m allergic to silver. If I wear it, my neck breaks out in a rash. The first week I moved into the Monroe house, Autumn insisted on putting a silver necklace around my neck as a 'welcome gift.' When my neck flared up, she blinked her big innocent eyes and said, "Sis, I didn’t know it was silver. I thought it was something else."

At the hospital, my parents still told me, "Your sister meant well. Be the bigger person. It’s not worth fussing over."

Their voices echoed in my memory. Always asking me to forgive. To overlook. To be the mature one. It never seemed to matter how I felt.

Whatever Autumn does is always right. Before I came home, she was the only daughter and got all the love. After I returned, my parents, afraid she’d be upset, bent over backwards to favor her.

It was like I was a guest in my own family. Always tiptoeing around her moods and needs. Every family photo, every holiday, every story—they all belonged to her.

They always said, "Your sister has had it so hard. Besides us, she has no family."

But what about me? Isn’t anyone going to feel sorry for me? Not a single person in this world treats me like family.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Wished I could disappear into the background. The restaurant’s chatter faded. All I could hear was the thud of my own heartbeat.

"Elena?" Lucas’s voice snapped me back to reality.

His concern sounded genuine. But I couldn’t bring myself to trust it. I forced a smile, hoping he couldn’t see the cracks.

"What are you thinking about? Tell me."

He seemed genuinely interested in me now.

His eyes were earnest, waiting for an answer. For a moment, I almost believed he cared.

"I’m allergic to silver. Autumn knows that. She told you to buy this necklace on purpose."

I said it quietly, but there was steel in my voice. I watched his reaction. Wondered if he’d defend her again.

"Huh?" Lucas looked surprised. "Maybe she forgot. Your sister doesn’t seem like that kind of person..."

Of course. He instinctively defended Autumn.

I almost laughed at his naivete. Of course he’d believe the best of her. That was her gift—making everyone love her.

I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I grabbed my bag and left. Lucas chased after me for a bit, but I didn’t even look back.

The night air was cool on my skin. A relief after the stifling restaurant. I walked fast, not caring if anyone saw the tears in my eyes.

When I got back to the Monroes’ house, the window was open, and I could hear the laughter of a happy family of three.

Their voices drifted out, warm and familiar. I stood on the porch, invisible. Listening to a life I’d never been part of.

Autumn was on summer break. She acted spoiled, asking, "Mom, now that Sis is back, do you guys not love me anymore?"

Her voice was playful, but there was an undercurrent of real worry. I wondered if she even realized how much power she held over them.

Mom replied affectionately, "Sweetheart, what are you talking about? Blood can’t compete with twenty years of real family."

Her words were soft. Full of love. I felt them like a bruise.

Dad added, "That’s right. When we named you Autumn, we meant you were the light of our lives."

His voice was gentle. A tone he’d never used with me. I pressed my forehead to the window, fighting the urge to cry.

Autumn giggled.

The sound was pure. Innocent. I wondered if she’d ever doubted her place here.

The father who was always so strict with me was now doting, "Daddy will cook tomorrow. What does our little princess want to eat?"

So gentle. A side of him I’d never seen.

I watched as he ruffled her hair, promising her pancakes and homemade syrup. The scene was almost too perfect, like something out of a Hallmark movie.

After hesitating a moment, I decided not to go in.

My hand hovered over the doorknob. But I couldn’t bring myself to turn it. The laughter inside made my chest ache.

I wandered alone through the streets of Maple Heights. Everything felt so unfamiliar.

The city lights blurred around me, neon and gold. I passed diners. Boutiques. Old brick buildings, each one filled with lives that weren’t mine. My footsteps echoed on the sidewalk, a lonely rhythm.

Six months ago, when they found me, I thought I’d finally have a family. Later, I realized it was just another way of being an outsider.

I let out a wry laugh and reached into my pocket for a cigarette, but only found a lollipop.

A year ago, I’d quit smoking for someone. The lollipop was sweet. Tingled my taste buds.

I unwrapped it and popped it in my mouth. The sugar was sharp and bright. For a second, I almost felt like a kid again—hopeful, naive.

A tall figure stopped beside me. I looked up and met Adrian Blackwell’s strikingly handsome face.

He was just as I remembered. Cool, composed, impossible to read. His presence made the night feel smaller. More intimate.

"I heard you refused Lucas’s gift."

No small talk. No greetings. That was the first thing he said to me since we ran into each other again.

His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something else. Curiosity, maybe even concern. I met his gaze, refusing to look away.

"Yeah. So?"

I shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter. The lollipop clicked against my teeth.

"That gift was picked out by Autumn. Lucas asked her for help. Now she’s all upset, crying and making a scene."

Our date ended an hour ago. Lucas sure took his time.

I rolled my eyes, imagining Autumn’s crocodile tears. She was always good at playing the victim.

"So what? Here to stand up for your precious little sister?"

Adrian didn’t answer. The metal buttons on his suit glinted coldly under the streetlights.

He watched me, silent and steady. The night air felt charged. Like a storm was coming.

"I just want to know why you didn’t want the gift."

His voice was softer now. Almost gentle. I hesitated, searching his face for judgment, but found none.

"My neck is sensitive. I can’t wear that stuff. I thought you knew."

I smiled and stepped a little closer as I spoke.

I could feel his breath, warm and familiar. My heart raced, memories threatening to spill over.

"Because you always liked to kiss my neck… back when we were married."

Adrian’s eyes flickered to my neck, then quickly looked away.

A flush crept up his cheeks, gone as quickly as it came. For a second, he looked almost human.

Before I could say anything else, someone got out of the car.

"What are you two talking about?"

The little princess herself came over.

She skipped up, her hair bouncing, eyes wide with curiosity. She looked between us. Oblivious to the tension.

"Sis, don’t blame Adrian. I asked him to drive me around to look for you."

She probably hadn’t heard what I said to Adrian.

Her voice was sweet, but her gaze was sharp. I wondered how much she really understood.

"Why were you looking for me?"

"Yeah," Autumn chirped, "Adrian, you found Sis so fast. You’re amazing!"

She clapped her hands, beaming at him. Adrian just nodded. His expression unreadable.

"There’s a lake here," Adrian said, tossing out those four words before getting back in the car.

His words were simple, but I understood. He remembered things about me that no one else did.

"What does that mean?" Autumn blinked in confusion.

I didn’t explain. She didn’t know that whenever I was upset, I liked to look at water—rivers, lakes, the ocean. They calmed me down. The artificial lake in Maple Heights was the closest to home, so Adrian hadn’t even hesitated, just drove straight here.

He drove us both home.

The ride was quiet. The only sound was the hum of the engine. Autumn chatted about her day. I stared out the window, watching the streetlights flicker by.

My parents thanked him, "Elena can be thoughtless. Sorry to trouble you."

See? Once again, it was all my fault.

I forced a smile, biting back a retort. Adrian met my eyes in the rearview mirror. Something unreadable flickering there.

I went inside without looking back, closing the door and shutting out Adrian’s gaze.

The house was quiet, but I could still hear their voices outside. I leaned against the door. Letting the silence settle over me like a blanket.