Carving My Heart Without You
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Summary
On the night of our seventh anniversary, Chelsea ladled a bowl of savory chicken broth for me, then slid a contract across the polished marble kitchen island.
“I know you’ve always wanted your own gallery,” she said, her voice smooth, almost casual. “It opens next month.”
I stared at her, my heart leaping with a sudden, breathless hope. She offered me a faint, amused smile.
“Actually, Jesse, there’s something I haven’t been entirely honest about. That million-dollar debt from years ago? It was never real. I’m the sole heiress to the Whitmore estate.
