Mara Vale woke to the sound of crystal applause.
For one breath, she thought it was the hospital monitor from the last night of her old life. Then the scent of white roses hit her, cold and expensive, and she saw the ballroom again.
Black marble floor. Champagne tower. Her father's investors smiling as if they had already bought the family name. Adrian Cross standing beneath the chandelier with a velvet ring box in his hand.
One year ago, she had said yes.
One year later, he had signed away her company, married her sister, and left Mara to read the scandal headlines from a locked recovery room.
The applause grew louder. Adrian smiled, handsome enough to make a room forgive him before he sinned.
"Mara," he said, opening the box, "will you marry me?"
The old Mara had cried.
This Mara looked at the diamond, then at the sister pretending to dab happy tears beside the stage.
"No," Mara said.
The room went silent so quickly she could hear the champagne bubbles break.