"Lily, let’s go."

Rose Harrison tossed the discarded dress at Maximus Anderson and dragged Lily Hughes out of the mall without a backward glance.

"Max, I knew you loved me most," Delilah Kelly chirped, cradling the silk to her chest with a smug smile.

In the next heartbeat, Maximus snatched the fabric away and tore it to shreds. The sound of ripping seams hung heavy in the air. Delilah stood frozen, her jaw working as she tried to find words that wouldn't come.

No one knew that years later, Maximus would track down the original designer in Italy, commission an exact replica of that gown, and keep it hanging in the private lounge of the Anderson Group. And Maximus himself didn't know that he would end up spending five years waiting for a woman who was no longer there, haunted by the ghost of that single, destroyed dress.

But that, as they say, is a story for another time.

***

The Maldives. A yacht cut through the turquoise water, the engine a low hum against the roar of the ocean. The air was cool, salty, and thick with the promise of freedom.

"Wow! Ocean, I’m going to conquer you!" Lily Hughes screamed into the vast blue horizon. She turned to Rose, grinning. "Rose, come on! Do it! It’s the best feeling in the world."

"Fine! Ocean, I’m here!" Rose yelled back, letting the wind snatch the words from her throat.

As the sound died away, she felt a strange, light clarity. It was as if the salt spray had scrubbed away the last traces of her old misery.

"Rose," Lily began, her tone softening, "you really aren't going to tell me what went down with the Anderson CEO?"

"No," Rose said, staring at the waves. "It’s over, Lily. It’s all in the past. Why dwell on it and ruin your mood? I’ve decided—I’m going to see the world. It’s a big place. I’m just going to drift."

She had meant it. The divorce papers were already signed and sitting on a desk somewhere, just waiting for Maximus to add his own signature.

"Fair enough," Lily said, deciding not to dig. She wasn't about to pick at a wound that had only just begun to scab over. Besides, that guy Maximus had never sat right with her; he had 'walking red flag' written all over his tailored suits. If Rose wanted to walk away, it was the best thing she could do.

"Then let’s toast to the future," Lily added.

But fate has a cruel sense of humor.

Five days into her world tour, Rose bumped into the very person she was trying to outrun. It was at a Royal Gala in London. Rose was there as the protégé of the world-renowned designer Sabrina White, tasked with delivering a personal congratulatory gift to the Queen.

The ballroom was a sea of glittering jewels and stiff etiquette. In the center, seated at a black grand piano, was Maximus Anderson. He wore a sharp, deep-purple tailcoat, his fingers dancing across the keys to a haunting rendition of *Für Elise*.

The melody was hypnotic, elegant, and heartbreakingly precise.

Rose stood in the shadows, stunned. She had never known the man could play, nor that he had once been a prodigy on the stages of Vienna. It felt like watching a stranger.

Fate had rearranged the stage, and now, they were being forced to meet again as different people.

"My beautiful, noble princess," a voice murmured behind her.

Rose turned. Maximus was there, dropping to one knee with the grace of a storybook prince. He looked up at her, his eyes unreadable. "May I have this dance?"

"Of course," she whispered.

Perhaps it was the champagne, or the way the ballroom lights danced in his eyes, but she suddenly felt like she was floating in a dream. She wanted to believe it was a fantasy—just a beautiful, fleeting memory she could wake up from when the night ended.