New York City | The Morning After
The cold wind slapped Violet’s face as she stumbled out of the Grand Hawthorne Hotel and into the half-light of dawn. Her dress clung to her body like guilt, and her heels clicked against the pavement, echoing louder than her thoughts.
She gripped the railing beside the steps, willing herself not to vomit.
What did I do…
Memories came in pieces — fragments of the club, the music, the drink, the warmth of a stranger’s touch. The familiar scent of cedarwood and leather. His voice. That voice...
It had been Bryan.
Her husband. Her soon-to-be ex-husband.
The man who had never looked at her the way a man should look at his wife.
And last night, she had given him everything — unknowingly. Her first kiss. Her first time.
The raw ache between her legs was proof. And the bracelet — her mother’s bracelet — was gone. She never removed it. Not ever. It was the only thing she had from a past she couldn't fully remember, yet somehow still mourned.
“Elena,” Violet said hoarsely into her phone, ducking into the alleyway next to the building. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the call button again. “Pick up, please...”
Three rings. Then her best friend’s sleepy voice filled her ear. “Vi? Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I need you to come get me,” Violet whispered. “Now.”
Upstairs in Room 1703, Bryan sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless and stunned. His fingers brushed the bloodstained sheet, and something inside him twisted. He looked down at the small red stain again, then around the room — no dress, no shoes, no sign of who she was.
The girl had vanished.
His head pounded. His memories were hazy, disconnected. He barely remembered leaving his penthouse after his mother’s nagging about “moving on” and “choosing someone worthy.” He remembered drinks. A scent like jasmine and coffee. A kiss that tasted like red velvet.
And her voice — soft, familiar.
He turned as the door creaked open and Rebecca entered, wrapped in a satin robe. Her neck bore deep, red bruises that looked suspiciously deliberate.
“Bryan?” she asked innocently, stepping inside. “I heard noises. Thought you were alone?”
He blinked at her. “Did we... last night...?”
Rebecca hesitated. She tilted her head, watching his reaction carefully. “You really don’t remember?”
He didn’t answer. His mind raced.
“I—I think it was my first time,” he admitted quietly. “With whoever it was...”
Her eyes lit up.
Then she lied.
“It was me.”
Bryan stared at her. “You...?”
She stepped forward. “You were... wild. Passionate. I didn’t expect that from you.”
He looked down at the bracelet on the bedside table. It shimmered faintly in the morning light — silver, with a tiny emerald embedded in the center, the metal carved in a unique spiral he’d never seen before.
“Did I give you this?”
Rebecca paused, then picked it up. “Yes,” she said, clutching it quickly. “You said it belonged to your... to the girl you loved once. That it reminded you of her. And then... you said I could have it.”
Bryan’s jaw clenched.
He couldn’t remember saying any of that. But she was standing here. The bruises were there. The blood was real.
And he was too proud to ask questions.
He nodded once. “If that’s what happened... then I’ll take responsibility. What do you want?”
Rebecca smiled inwardly. She had him.
“I don’t want marriage,” she said sweetly, knowing he’d say no. “But I want to be... special. When I call, you come. When I ask, you answer.”
Bryan exhaled and ran a hand through his messy black hair.
He didn’t love her. But he couldn’t walk away from his mistake.
“Fine.”
Rebecca reached out and touched his cheek. “You’re such a good man, Bryan.”
No, he thought. I’m just a confused one.
That afternoon...
Elena held Violet’s hand as they sat in the back of a yellow cab, the bracelet now just a memory, the tears still streaming down Violet’s face.
“I can’t believe it,” Violet whispered. “I waited all these years... for that? For it to happen like this?”
Elena squeezed her tighter. “We’ll fix this.”
“He didn’t even know it was me,” Violet added bitterly. “I could have been any woman.”
“No,” Elena said firmly. “You were his wife. And whether he knew it or not... his heart did.”
Violet turned away. “I signed the divorce papers. He’ll be free soon. Free to sleep with women who aren’t hidden behind glasses and messy hair.”
She laughed bitterly.
“He never wanted me, Elena.”
“Then why was it him that fate put in that room?”
Violet didn’t have an answer.
Later that week...
Violet stepped into the hospital breakroom and nearly dropped her coffee.
There he was.
Bryan Hawthorne — in a tailored black suit, tall, intimidating, beautiful in that dangerous way that made women stare.
She ducked behind the vending machine.
Elena followed, carrying a tray of files.
“Uh, surprise!” Elena whispered, eyes wide. “The board sold part of the hospital to a private investor.”
“Let me guess,” Violet groaned. “He bought it.”
“Not just bought it,” Elena hissed. “He’s now the CEO of medical operations. Effective immediately.”
Violet closed her eyes.
Of course. Of course fate would do this.
She was going to have to face the man who didn’t even recognize her — all over again.