Part 1Chosen Over Him

One second I was accepting an award in Milan, the next I was hooded and shoved onto a private jet.

I woke at the Thorne estate. Mr. Silas Thorne was cheerfully playing chess with my grandfather. “It’s time we settled that marriage pact between your grandson and my granddaughter,” he said.

While they negotiated, I slipped into the garden. Seeing a perfect rose, I reached for it—but a kick sent me stumbling down, my back burning.

“Who’s this charity case touching my rose? The one Miss Thorne planted for me!” snarled a man surrounded by bodyguards.

Before I could speak, he punched my face, leaving a bruise. “And now he’s stealing the engagement ring she made for me? Take it and teach him a lesson!”

As the guards closed in, he smirked. “Time to clean up the riff-raff as the future Thorne son-in-law.”

I glanced at the family heirloom ring on my finger, then texted my contact “Fiancée”:

Isabelle Thorne, there’s a rabid dog in your garden. Are you handling this or not?

* * *

To my surprise, the message was immediately met with a red exclamation point.

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. We hadn’t even finalized the engagement, and she’d already blocked me.

“How did you sneak in here! Give Mr. Everton back his property this instant!” a housekeeper shrieked, lunging at me. I sidestepped her easily.

“I am an honored guest of the Thorne family,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Is this how you treat your guests?”

The man, Blake Everton, sneered and pulled out his own phone to call Isabelle Thorne—my supposed fiancée.

A cool, melodious voice answered on the first ring. “What is it, Blake?”

I listened closely. A nice voice. My type. Grandfather had good taste, at least.

“Isabelle! There’s some pretty boy in your garden claiming to be a guest, and he stole the ring you gave me!”

I cut through his whiny, dramatic tone, deciding to introduce myself before she got the wrong idea. “Miss Thorne, my name is Julian Moritz. I’m your fiancé.”

There was a two-second pause as she processed the name. When she spoke again, her voice was glacial.

“What fiancé? You need an invitation to enter the Thorne estate. Otherwise, you’ll be dealt with as a trespasser.” Then, her tone melted back into syrupy sweetness. “Blake, don’t be upset. It’s just a ring. I’ll buy you a new one when I get back.”

My ring, a custom piece by a legendary French master, was my parents’ engagement ring. There wasn’t another one like it in the world.

As I began to seriously question the wisdom of this alliance, Blake Everton doubled over with laughter. He raked his eyes over me with contempt.

“You? Your clothes don’t even have a label, you piece of trash! And you have the nerve to call yourself Isabelle’s fiancé? That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!”

I had studied design abroad. The clothes I was wearing were my own creations, hence the lack of a brand name. My designs were already sought after by Europe’s elite, but this peacock couldn’t even recognize them. It made me question his credentials.

The encounter had soured my mood. I turned to leave the garden.

Blake blocked my path.

“Didn’t you hear Isabelle? You need an invitation. You claim to be an honored guest, so where is it?”

I rolled my eyes and reached into my pocket, but found nothing. I vaguely remembered my grandfather saying we wouldn’t need one.

Seeing my empty hand, his smirk widened. “A liar, just as I thought! Men! Get the ring off him, tie him up, and throw him out!”

I shielded the ring with my hand and took a step back, my expression hardening.

A few of the maids approached me, their faces full of pity. “Sir, you should just give it back to Mr. Everton. You have no idea what he’s capable of.”

“That’s right, that ring is a symbol of their love! They grew up together. Miss Thorne won’t let you get away with this.”

“I saw it with my own eyes… a man just got a little dirt on Mr. Everton’s suit, and the next day, he’d lost a hand!”

Their warnings only fueled Blake’s arrogance.

“You hear that? Get on your knees, place the ring respectfully in my hand, and then get the hell out of here. Otherwise, you’ll end up just like the man who dirtied my suit.”