After seven years of a broken marriage, the heroine makes a triumphant comeback.

Chapter 1 Anna Wellington stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of their Manhattan penthouse, her fingers unconsciously smoothing the edge of the Valentino curtains—where an almost invisible crease remained from last year, when Louis had abruptly drawn them shut during one of his rare dinner visits, complaining about the glare. "Madam, where should these flowers go?" The housekeeper's voice interrupted her thoughts. Anna turned, a practiced smile gracing her lips. "The center of the dining table, please. And light those Diptyque candles nearby. Louis likes the scent of lilies." She watched as the housekeeper arranged the pristine white roses in a Baccarat crystal vase, their petals reminding her of the bridal bouquet she'd carried seven years ago. Back then, Louis' eyes had held nothing but her, as if she were the most precious treasure in the world. "Madam remembers all of sir's preferences," the housekeeper remarked while setting Christofle silverware. "Every dish is his favorite." Anna smiled without responding. She moved to the kitchen to check the Wellington steak in the oven—Louis' favorite dish from Gordon Ramsay's restaurant, which she'd spent three months learning to perfect. The clock ticked past seven, then eight. Anna sat at the immaculately set table as her phone lit up with a message from Louis' assistant: "Mr. Wellington is still in a board meeting. Please proceed with dinner." She set the phone down, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the tablecloth. She'd received this same message too many times to still feel disappointment. At 9:15, the sound of a car engine finally echoed through the courtyard. Anna stood, instinctively adjusting her hair and the hem of her Ralph Lauren dress, her lips curving into a smile rehearsed countless times. The door opened, revealing Louis Wellington's imposing frame. His Tom Ford suit clung to his broad shoulders, his chiseled features as striking as ever—but the gray-blue eyes that had once sparkled for her now held only detached indifference. "You haven't eaten?" He glanced at the candlelit dinner, brows furrowing slightly. "It's our anniversary," Anna reminded him softly, taking his briefcase and coat. "I wanted to wait." A flicker of something crossed his face before vanishing. "Apologies. The merger kept me busy. I forgot." He moved to the table, his gaze sweeping over the painstakingly prepared dishes without comment. Anna poured him a glass of Château Lafite Rothschild—a vintage they'd brought back from their honeymoon in Bordeaux. "The steak is cooked well," Louis remarked after tasting a piece. Anna's eyes brightened. "I learned the recipe—Gordon Ramsay's method, the one you love." "Hmm." Louis took another bite, ending the conversation. Dinner passed in silence. Anna tried several times to speak, but the weariness in his eyes made her swallow her words. Twenty minutes later, Louis set down his fork. "I have documents to review. Don't wait up." He rose and headed straight for his study. Anna remained seated, listening to the study door click shut. She finished her now-cold steak slowly before clearing the table. The candlelight reflected off her composed face, betraying no emotion. After tidying up, she texted Louis' assistant: "What's Louis' schedule tomorrow?" The reply came swiftly: "Mr. Wellington flies to Paris at dawn for the International Finance Summit. Three-day trip." Anna stared at the screen, recalling Louis mentioning this trip offhand last month. She opened his walk-in closet, her fingers brushing against a navy Brioni suit—last year's birthday gift from her, its tags still intact. Closing the closet, she sat at her vanity. The woman in the mirror remained beautiful, though fine lines now framed her eyes. Seven years of marriage had polished the vivacious girl into the poised Mrs. Wellington. Her iPad suddenly lit up with a "Memory" notification—a photo from seven years ago in Venice. Louis had his arm around her waist, whispering something that made them both laugh. Anna traced the screen as if she could touch that vanished time. "Just a little longer," she whispered to herself. "One day, he'll see me again." Outside, moonlight bathed the magnolia tree they'd planted together after their wedding. What Anna didn't know was that tomorrow in Paris, she would witness the moment that shattered her last fragile hope.