When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard. “I know,” he said. Berlin stared at him, dazed.
“What?” “I know you’re not Ivory.” His thumb traced her cheekbone gently. “I’ve known for weeks.”
“How? Since the kitchen.” Zire’s eyes burned into hers. I’ve heard stories about Ivory Thornne.
Everyone has. She’s selfish, spoiled, wouldn’t lift a finger to help anyone. But you walked into my kitchen and screamed at me for being cruel.
You defended a chef you just met. You threatened a man everyone else was terrified of.
His hand cuped her jaw. That’s not Ivory Thornne. That’s someone real, someone good, someone who actually cares about people.
Berlin’s tears flowed faster. Why didn’t you say anything? I wanted to see what you would do, who you really were.
He pressed his forehead against hers. I had my people investigate the Thorn family. Found records of another daughter, an orphan they’d taken in and treated like garbage.
Found out about the keepsake, about how they’ve been manipulating you your whole life. You knew everything.
Not your name. Not until now. He pulled back to look at her. Berlin, it suits you.
She laughed through her tears. You’re not angry. I’m furious. His jaw tightened. At the thorns, at what they did to you, at myself for not telling you sooner that you didn’t have to keep pretending.
He kissed her again, softer this time. Tender. But I’m not angry at you, he murmured against her lips.
I could never be angry at you. Berlin wrapped her arms around his neck and held on like she would never let go.
I love you, she whispered. I love you, too. Zire’s arms tightened around her. My wife.
My real wife. Berlin Langston. She laughed, crying, happier than she had ever been. I’m not a Langston.
You are now and you will be forever. He pulled back, his expression fierce. No one touches you.
No one threatens you. No one makes you feel worthless ever again. Zire, we’re going to deal with the thorns together.
We’re going to get your keepsake back, and we’re going to make them pay for every single thing they did to you.
Berlin looked into his eyes. Those dark, intense, beautiful eyes that had once terrified her.
Together, she asked. Zire smiled. It transformed his entire face. Made him look younger, softer, like the man he might have been before the accident, before the bitterness, before the world tried to break him.
Together, he promised. But happy endings have enemies, and theirs was already watching. In the shadows of the corridor outside Zier’s study, a figure had just arrived with a phone pressed to his ear.
“So, you’re saying she’s not your real daughter?” Kendrick Langston said quietly. And my dear cousin has no idea.
The voice on the other end, Naen Thorne, laughed coldly. Yes, if you say your cards right, this is to your advantage.
What do you want to do? The Langston Foundation Gala is next week. Everyone will be there, including your grandmother.
Nadine’s voice turned sharp. You will expose the little fraud in front of Philadelphia society.
Destroy her reputation. Humiliate Zier for harboring an impostor. His grandmother will not take it.
He may accept her, but if she insists she doesn’t want a fraud like her, Zire would have to give her up or give up his inheritance.
And then, and then, my dear Kendrick, you take everything they have after you give me my cut, of course.
Kendrick smiled in the darkness. I’ll be in touch. He hung up and walked away, already imagining the destruction to come.
The morning after Berlin’s confession, she woke up certain it had all been a dream.
The kiss, the words, the way Zire had looked at her like she was the only person in the world who mattered.
Then she saw the dress. It hung on her closet door like a promise. Deep burgundy silk that shimmerred like liquid wine in the morning light.
Delicate gold embroidery traced intricate patterns along the bodice. The kind of dress that cost more than the average person made in a year.
A note was pinned to the hanger in familiar masculine handwriting. Breakfast on the terrace.
