Upstairs in her bedroom, Ellie stripped off the restrictive silk dress and pulled on a soft, oversized cashmere sweater and loose pants.
She walked back downstairs and headed toward the sunroom at the back of the house.
The scent of brewing chamomile tea filled the air of the sunroom.
Aunt Marion sat in a wicker chair under a tall brass floor lamp.
She wore her reading glasses, slowly turning the pages of a thick art catalog.
Hearing Ellie's soft footsteps, Marion looked up.
She pulled her glasses down to the bridge of her nose and studied Ellie's tired face.
Ellie walked over and sat down in the empty chair beside her.
She poured herself a cup of the hot tea from the ceramic pot.
She wrapped both hands around the mug, letting the heat seep into her cold palms.
"Did something happen at the club tonight?" Marion asked, her voice sharp and direct.
"My phone has been buzzing. People are saying Ansel nearly beat Bryan Roth to death in the hallway over you."
Ellie's fingers tightened around the mug.
She hadn't realized his violence had escalated that far after she'd left.
She kept her face blank.
She set the mug down on the glass table.
"I heard Ansel tell his friends that our relationship is just a limited-time movie. He plans to write me a recommendation letter when he is done with me."
Marion let out a heavy, tired sigh.
She closed the art catalog and set it aside.
"The Schultz men don't have hearts, Ellie," Marion said, her voice heavy. "They have calculators."
Marion reached out and covered Ellie's hand with her own.
"They will never let him marry a girl without a trust fund. Especially not when Isela Lamb is flying back. Her family's energy sector is exactly what his father needs."
Ellie turned her hand over and squeezed her aunt's fingers.
She offered a small, reassuring smile.
"I know, Aunt Marion. I never expected a ring from him."
"This was a field study," Ellie stated, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp. "I used his network to build contacts. He used me to play the reformed bad boy. A transaction."
Marion looked at the cold, calculating logic in her niece's eyes.
Marion felt a pang of sadness for the girl, mixed with a deep, fierce pride.
"Isela lands on Friday," Ellie continued smoothly.
"The study is over. I am officially ending it with him before she arrives. I will make sure it is clean. He won't have any reason to target Uncle Donovan's investments."
Marion let out a breath of relief.
She patted Ellie's hand twice.
"You are a smart girl, Ellie."
She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with practical, old-school efficiency.
"If you are ending the old contract, you need to start looking ahead. I've been asking around quietly, and a close friend recommended someone."
Ellie raised an eyebrow. She took another sip of her tea, waiting for her aunt to elaborate.
"He's the youngest attending cardiothoracic surgeon at Yale," Marion said, a note of pride in her voice.
"His family is from Boston. Academics. Clean money. He has a kind, open reputation, completely lacking the dark, predatory edge that Ansel carries. This is the kind of man you build a real life with. I can email you his background details in the morning."
Ellie stared at the steam rising from her cup, processing the pedigree.
She remembered the way Ansel's friends had mocked her ivy-league education.
Her brain processed the data instantly.
A respected doctor. It was the perfect shield.
It would prove to Ansel that she had moved on instantly, destroying any chance of him trying to drag her back into his mess.
A genuine, light smile touched her lips.
"He sounds perfect on paper, Aunt Marion."
She tapped her finger against the ceramic edge of her mug.
"Alright. Set it up for Saturday in Manhattan. But let's make it a casual brunch, not a formal dinner. I need a little bit of a break from... heavy performances."
The brunch would be exactly one day after she shattered Ansel's world.
And across the river, in his cold, empty penthouse, Ansel paced, staring at a silent phone, his chest tight with a panic he refused to name.
