Chapter 3

When I got back to my room that night, my phone wouldn't stop buzzing.

It was a barrage of messages from Brandon on Snapchat.

"What the hell was that tonight?"

"Why are you getting so close to Julian Sterling? Do you have any idea how ruthless he is in this industry?"

"Hailey just got back to the States and her mental state is fragile. I’m only looking after her because of our history. Stop acting like a bitter housewife."

Looking at the gaslighting texts on my screen, I didn’t even have the energy to reply.

A few minutes later, another message popped up, his tone softening:

"Chloe, be good. Just put up with it for a few days. Don't throw a tantrum. When we get back to New York, I’ll buy you that Chanel bag you wanted."

A slap in the face, followed by a sweet treat.

For seven years, he had trained me like a dog with this exact method.

Whenever I complained, he would say, "You’re going to be my wife, Chloe. You need to look at the bigger picture. Don't be petty like other girls."

I shut my phone off completely and tossed it onto the nightstand.

The next morning, the backcountry ski rally officially began.

The Aspen backcountry was steep, and the temperature had plummeted to negative twenty.

Before heading out, I realized I hadn't packed enough hand warmers. My hands were already stiffening.

Brandon walked over holding two pairs of high-end heated ski gloves. We had bought them together before the trip—one pair for him, one for me.

I reached out to take them, but he walked right past me, straight to Hailey.

"Hailey, your hands get cold easily. Wear these. The heating chip inside lasts for eight hours."

Hailey looked up, pleasantly surprised. "What about you?"

"I'm fine. I run hot anyway," Brandon said, smiling as he ruffled her hair.

The colleagues standing around murmured about what a gentleman Brandon was.

I stood there, looking at my red, freezing fingers. The very last spark of affection in my heart died right then and there.

"Hands out."

A deep voice sounded from above me.

I looked up to find Julian standing in front of me.

Without waiting for my response, he took my freezing hands and pulled a pair of heavy, warm black professional ski gloves over them. They still held the warmth of his body.

"These are..."

"My spares," he said flatly, not even sparing a glance at Brandon. "I don't like my partner slowing me down because of frostbite."

Though his words were blunt, the warmth of the gloves made my throat tight with unshed tears.

Brandon noticed the exchange. His face darkened, and he strode over, grabbing my arm.

"Chloe, we need to talk."

He dragged me behind a large pine tree and hissed in a low, furious voice,

"Are you insane? Accepting things from another man right in front of me?"

I yanked my arm out of his grip and stared at him coldly. "Where were you when my hands were freezing to death?"

"I told you, Hailey gets cold easily!" Brandon said, completely righteous. "You’re tough, Chloe. What's wrong with making a small sacrifice? When did you become so selfish?"

I let out a bitter laugh.

Me? Selfish?

For seven years, I had poured my youth, my career, and my resources into him. And in return, I was called "selfish."

"Brandon," I said, my voice so quiet and calm it surprised me. "I don't want your gloves anymore. I don't want anything of yours."

Without waiting for his reply, I turned and walked back to Julian.