These hands had signed contracts worth hundreds of millions. They'd warmed my feet on countless cold nights.

Now they carried the scent of someone else.

The radiant heating was turned up high, but I still felt cold.

I sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, saying nothing.

Oscar finished folding a dumpling and walked over, a freshly washed gold coin in his hand.

"Dora, look."

He crouched in front of me like he was coaxing a child through a tantrum. "This year, let's hide a coin inside one of the dumplings. Whoever gets it can make a wish—and the other person has to grant it."

"Any wish. I promise."

His gaze was so tender it could drown you.

"I know tonight was hard on you. If you find the coin, I'll take you on a trip around the world. Just the two of us. How does that sound?"

I stared at the gold coin, and something painfully close to hope stirred inside me.

If he was willing to change for me—even just a little...

Ding-dong.

The doorbell.

On New Year's Eve, who would possibly come?

Oscar stood and went to answer it.

The moment the door swung open, a gust of snow carried a small figure stumbling inside.

"Oscar, I—" A sob broke through. "My power went out. It was so dark. I was so scared."

Summer Fox.

She was wearing a thin set of pajamas with a men's coat draped over her shoulders—Oscar's spare trench coat, the one he kept at the office.

Tears streamed down her face like rain on pear blossoms, her whole body trembling as she threw herself straight into Oscar's arms.

He caught her on instinct.

"What happened? Why didn't you call building management?"

"I did. No one answered." She pressed closer. "I couldn't stay there alone. You were the only person I could think of."

Summer lifted her head. Those glistening eyes slid toward me, brimming with a perfect cocktail of defiance and innocence.

"Dora, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I was just so terrified—could I stay for one night? I won't be any trouble. The couch is fine."

Oscar frowned and glanced at me, caught somewhere between reluctance and something softer.

But I already knew. He'd caved.

"Dora, the snow's coming down hard. It really isn't safe for her to be alone. We have plenty of guest rooms. Let her stay one night."

He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As if he'd already forgotten—minutes ago—that he'd been promising me dumplings and a trip around the globe.

I didn't speak. I just sat there, staring at the plate of uncooked dumplings on the counter.

Oscar settled Summer on the couch, then went to pour her hot water and fetch a blanket. He bustled back and forth, attentive to her every need.

Summer cradled the warm mug in both hands, spotted the dumplings, and lit up. "You made dumplings? I'm starving—could you cook some for me?"

Oscar paused. His eyes flicked to me.

My face gave him nothing.

"Sure. I'll go boil them."

The dumplings came out steaming, filling the room with a rich, savory aroma.

Oscar ladled out two bowls—one for me, one for Summer.

"Dora, eat." He placed the chopsticks beside my hand.

I looked down at my bowl. The plumpest dumpling sat right on top—the one with the gold coin inside.

He remembered which one it was.

And he'd remembered to give it to me.

That, it seemed, was the last scrap of conscience he had left.

I picked up my chopsticks and reached for it.

"Ow!"

A yelp from across the room. Summer's bowl slipped from her hands, dumplings scattering across the floor.

"It's hot—it burns—"

She clutched her hand, tears spilling instantly.

Oscar's expression shifted. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, seizing her hand to examine it.

"How did you burn yourself? Where does it hurt?"

"I couldn't hold on to it. I'm so clumsy, Oscar."

"It's fine, it's fine. It's not your fault."

Oscar coaxed her gently, then turned to look at me.

"Dora, Summer doesn't have anything to eat now. Your bowl—"

I stared at him. The hand gripping my chopsticks was trembling.

"You want me to give her my bowl?"

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face, but he pressed on. "You can't eat that many anyway. Just give her a few. And the one with the gold coin... could you let her have it?"

"What did you just say?" I was certain I'd misheard.

Oscar looked away, his voice dropping. "Summer just got back to the country. Her career is barely off the ground—she could use a little good luck. You already have everything. I'm your husband. Whatever wish you'd make, I can grant it myself. You don't need that coin."

"Just let her have this. Okay?"

I already have everything?

I had this frigid mansion. I had a marriage that existed in name only. And I had a husband whose heart and eyes were full of another woman.

He was right. I really did "have it all."

I looked down at the dumpling in my bowl—the one hiding the gold coin. The one he'd promised just minutes ago would grant "any wish at all."

Now he wanted to hand that promise to someone else.

"Oscar."

I picked up the bowl and rose to my feet.

"You really want to give this to her?"

Impatience bled into his expression. "It's one dumpling. Is this really necessary? It's New Year's Eve—do you have to make a scene?"

"Fine."

I nodded.

"She can have it."

I walked to the trash can. Right in front of both of them, I hurled the bowl—dumplings and all—straight into it.

Crash.

Porcelain shattered. Dumplings scattered across the garbage.

"I'd sooner feed it to a dog than give it to her."