THE bedroom was a quiet testament to how far she had come. She. Amelia. Now Amelia Harlow. Having dropped her husband's last name. No… ex-husband’s.
Soft golden lights glowed from crystal wall sconces, reflecting off polished marble floors and a massive king-sized bed dressed in silk sheets the color of champagne. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline beyond, sheer curtains swaying gently as the evening breeze slipped in. Every piece of furniture was deliberate, custom-made, tasteful, expensive without screaming for attention. A woman who had survived storms lived here. And she had rebuilt beautifully.
Seated on her velvet dressing stool, Amelia faced the mirror, her posture relaxed, confident. Time had been kind to her— no, generous. The six years that had passed since her li
