The perfume of luxury floated through the glass corridors of The Aurelia Galleria, a scent that whispered of old money and new scandals.

Aria Carter-Cross walked beside Grandma Eleanor, her posture perfect, her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. Every click of her heels sounded like confidence. Every smile—controlled.

They had just stepped out of Chanel Privé when a familiar voice sliced through the calm air.

“Aria?”

She froze.

That voice.

Even after all this time, it still made her chest tighten for a second before she straightened, face unreadable.

Standing by the marble fountain was Lucas Walter—the man who once owned her heart in her past life. The man she’d...