After marrying that vegetative billionaire CEO

Five years with Ethan Cole, and tonight I was going to ask him to marry me.

The ring sat in a velvet box in my coat pocket. I'd designed it myself, one thin platinum band and a single round diamond set low, so it wouldn't catch on anything. Ethan hated jewelry that got in the way.

I knew everything Ethan hated. Everything he loved, too.

At least, I thought I did.

"You're leaving early again?" Professor Lang called as I grabbed my bag from the studio bench. She ran the jewelry design program at the Rowan Institute of Art, and she rarely smiled. Tonight she did. "Big night?"

"Our anniversary." I patted my pocket. "I'm proposing."

"Ah. So that's what you've been hiding under your sketchbook for three months." She shook her head. "Go. And Olivia, if he says no, he's an idiot."

I laughed the whole way to the subway.

---

The apartment door was unlocked.

That was the first wrong thing. Ethan always locked it, even when he was home.

The second wrong thing was the pair of red heels kicked off in the hallway. I knew those shoes. I'd lent my sister the money to buy them.

"Ethan?"

No answer. Just a sound from the bedroom. A low moan, a woman's laugh, the rhythmic thud of my headboard against the wall.

My hand found the doorknob before my brain caught up.

I pushed it open.

Ethan was on my bed. On my sheets. His bare back was slick with sweat, and under him, her legs wrapped tight around his hips, was Vanessa.

My older sister.

The sister I'd covered for since we were kids. The one I'd lied to Dad for, given my allowance to, held her hair back when she drank too much at nineteen.

Ethan didn't stop. He hadn't even heard me. He buried his face in Vanessa's neck, and that's when I saw his left hand.

My ring was on his finger.

The box in my pocket was empty. I'd never even checked. He must have found it in my drawer.

"Olivia's so naive," he breathed against her skin, laughing. "She really thinks I'm going to marry her? God. Vanessa, you're the one I want. You always were."

Something in my chest went very quiet.

Vanessa's eyes opened. She looked straight at me over his shoulder.

She smiled.

"Ethan," she purred. "We have company."

He twisted around. The color drained from his face so fast it was almost funny.

"Liv. Shit. Liv, it's not—"

"It's not what?" My voice came out flat and calm. I didn't recognize it. "Not my bed? Not my sister? Not my ring?"

He looked down at his hand like he'd forgotten. Then he yanked the ring off and held it out to me.

I didn't move.

Vanessa slid out from under him, taking her time. She reached for the chair by my closet and picked up my silk robe, the blue one Mom gave me before she died. She pulled it on and tied the belt slowly, never breaking eye contact.

"Don't look at me like that, little sister." She tilted her head. "You're the gifted one, right? Best jewelry designer in your whole class. Everybody says so."

"Take that off."

"You can design a perfect diamond." She stepped closer, her perfume heavy and sweet. "So how come you can't keep hold of your own man?"

My hand was already rising. I wanted to slap her. I wanted it so badly my palm burned.

Instead, I laughed.

It came out of me sharp and sudden. Vanessa blinked. Ethan stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

"Keep him," I said. "Keep the robe, too. I'll never wear it again after it's touched you."

"Liv, wait—" Ethan grabbed the sheet and stumbled after me. "We can talk about this. I was going to tell you—"

"When? After I proposed?" I turned at the door. "Were you going to say yes first?"

He had nothing.

I took the ring from his open palm. Platinum. Single stone. Set low, so it wouldn't catch.

"I made this for someone who didn't exist," I said, and dropped it into my pocket.

I walked out. I didn't run. I didn't cry in the elevator, or on the street, or in the cab.

I promised myself, right there in the back seat, that I would never bow my head for anyone again. Not for love. Not for family.

I didn't know yet how fast that promise would be tested.

---

My father's study smelled like cigars and old paper. He didn't look up when I came in.

"Dad. I need to stay here for a few days. Ethan and Vanessa—"

"I know about Ethan and Vanessa."

I froze in the doorway. "You *know*?"

Richard Marlowe finally raised his eyes. He looked older than he had last month, gray under the skin. "Your sister told me weeks ago. Sit down, Olivia."

"Weeks ago." My nails dug into my palms. "And you didn't think I deserved to know?"

"I had bigger concerns." He slid a folder across the desk. "Marlowe Gems is finished. The banks are calling our loans on Friday. Unless we have a partner, we lose everything. The house. The company. Your mother's name on that building."

"What does that have to do with me?"

He tapped the folder. "The Sterling family has agreed to inject the capital we need. In exchange for a marriage."

I opened it.

A photograph stared back at me. A man in a hospital bed, tubes in his arm, a breathing mask over his face. Dark hair. Strong jaw. Eyes closed.

*Neon Sterling. Age 28. Heir, Sterling Holdings.*

"He was in a car accident a year ago," Dad said. "He hasn't woken up since."

My mouth went dry. "He's in a coma."

"Vegetative state, the doctors say."

"You want me to marry a man who can't even open his eyes."

"I want you to save this family."

"Then ask Vanessa!" The words tore out of me. "She's the oldest. She's the one who wrecked my life tonight. Why is it always me?"

"Vanessa has Ethan. His father's firm is useful to us." He folded his hands. "And the Sterlings asked for you. Specifically."

"Me? They don't even know me."

"Apparently they do."

I shoved the folder back across the desk. "No. I'm not doing this. I'll find my own way. I'll—"

"Olivia." His voice cracked like a whip. "You've been playing house with a man who just made a fool of you in front of your own sister. You have no savings. Your tuition is paid by me." He leaned forward. "You no longer have the right to choose your husband."

The room tilted.

This morning, I'd had a boyfriend, a sister, a father, and a future I could draw with my own hands.

Now I had a ring in my pocket that nobody wanted.

"When?" I whispered.

"Saturday. The Sterlings will send a car." He closed the folder. "One more thing. Neon's grandmother wants to meet you tomorrow. Alone."

"Why alone?"

My father hesitated. For the first time all night, he looked away from me.

"She said there's something about her grandson's accident," he said quietly, "that you need to hear before you sign anything."