Chapter 2

I didn't move from the living room.

Harper picked up my mug and poured herself a glass of water.

"Stella Fairfax. I didn't expect you to be this calm."

"I didn't expect you to be this shameless."

She looked at me. She didn't get angry. She laughed instead.

"You haven't seen all of it yet."

She set the glass down and nodded toward the main bedroom.

"The left side of the walk-in wardrobe — Conrad kept space for my things. And that gardenia on the balcony — he bought it for me. He knows I always loved gardenias."

I stood very still, the blood rising slowly to my head.

That gardenia. I'd posted a photo on Instagram months ago — the balcony looked bare, I'd written that I wanted a white flower out there. Conrad had replied: leave it to me, I'll find one.

Apparently he hadn't been choosing it for me.

He'd been choosing it for her.

Harper wasn't done.

"And this flat — the aspect, the floor, the décor — all of it was chosen based on things I'd said I liked. You surely don't think Conrad, of all people, has opinions about Scandi minimalism?"

I felt suddenly, deeply sick.

Not because she was gloating.

But because I'd understood something.

This flat, from the very beginning, was never for me.

I thought I was buying a home.

What I was actually doing was funding someone else's love story.