"I'm sick of sleeping with you. Let's break up."
Six years ago, Serena Caldwell, the eldest daughter of the Harlow family, threw out that one line and dumped Harrison Zander without a second glance, back when he had nothing to his name. Then she turned around and went into an arranged marriage with Ethan Caldwell, the mayor's son.
Six years later, the Harlow family had gone bankrupt. Serena was being abused by her husband, Ethan Caldwell, and had finally decided to divorce him. And right when she was at her lowest, at her messiest, at rock bottom, she ran into Harrison again.
At a café.
Serena sat by the floor-to-ceiling window in sunglasses and a baseball cap, checking the time again and again.
She had an appointment with her divorce lawyer today. But for some reason, even though the agreed time had long passed, the lawyer still hadn't shown up. She was just about to call and ask what was going on when the café door opened and a tall man walked in.
He was wearing a gray three-piece suit, a black shirt, and a striped tie. His whole vibe screamed money and status.
From the second he stepped inside, several female staff in the café kept sneaking glances at him. Fair enough. A face with bones and features that sharp, like it had been sculpted by some insane 3D artist, was the kind of thing you usually only saw in showbiz. Not in real life.
Other people would've been stunned by how handsome he was.
Serena was stunned because she was scared out of her mind.
Because the man who had just walked in was Harrison Zander, the first love she'd once brushed off with a cold, "I'm sick of sleeping with you."
Six years apart, and he looked like a completely different person.
The Harrison she remembered always wore a white linen shirt. Gentle, clean, soft around the edges, like the sweet guy next door. But the man standing here now had none of that boyish warmth left. His features had turned sharper, harder, more striking. His eyes were cold, severe, and openly aggressive, like a predator that knew exactly how to corner its prey.
Serena's heart slammed wildly against her ribs. Panicking, she tugged down the brim of her cap and prayed Harrison wouldn't notice her.
Her husband Ethan had beaten her just yesterday. Her face was still covered in injuries. She didn't want Harrison seeing her like this, didn't want him to see her at her most pathetic.
Honestly, she'd rather Harrison's final memory of her stay frozen on the arrogant, unreasonable woman she'd been when they broke up than let him witness the wreck she had become inside this marriage, a loser through and through.
But clearly, fate had zero intention of cutting her any slack.
Harrison walked straight to her table. Then he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down like he owned the place.
"Sorry. Traffic," he said.
Serena: "???"
Who exactly had Harrison come to meet? Had he sat at the wrong table?
"Sir." Serena kept her head lowered, the baseball cap and sunglasses hiding most of her face. She deliberately tightened her throat and changed her voice. "I think you've got the wrong person. This seat isn't yours."
"Miss Harlow, quit the act. I'd recognize you even if you were ashes."
Miss Harlow.
Serena froze.
Ever since the Harlow family went under, no one had called her that in a very long time. Back then, that had been Harrison's favorite way to address her.
When they were tangled up together, when he held her tight, when his voice got hoarse and blurred at her ear, he'd call her that over and over.
"Miss Harlow, can I come in now?"
"Miss Harlow, do you want more?"
"Miss Harlow, say you love me."
Those memories—skin brushing skin, breath mixing together, that fierce, almost suffocating possessiveness—came flooding back all at once.
Only this time, when Harrison said "Miss Harlow," there was none of the old heat in it.
Just hate. Clear as day.
"Sir, I'm not the person you're looking for. Please leave this seat. The person I'm meeting will be here soon," Serena insisted, still pretending not to know him.
"Jeffrey Stanton isn't coming." Harrison ordered a coffee and said leisurely, "Your divorce case will be handled by me from now on."
Serena shot her head up. "Why? I already made an appointment with Lawyer Stanton."
"So you finally feel like looking at me."
Serena paused.
Even through her dark lenses, she could feel his gaze—steady, unreadable, packed with the pressure of someone used to being in control.
She didn't have the energy to care about anything else and pressed on. "Why isn't Lawyer Stanton coming?"
"Jeffrey Stanton violated regulations multiple times during his practice. He was removed from the firm today."