Chapter 10 - A Birthday That Never Ended
One year later.
The rain was falling again against the glass windows of the grand ballroom at the top of the Kozlov Tower, exactly like the night my old life had ended.
Except this time, there was no miserable walk down wet pavement.
No broken breakup notes left on restaurant floors.
No small, fragile men hiding behind excuses.
I stood before a tall mirror, smoothing the front of a custom-tailored white silk gown, watching the diamonds resting against my collarbone catch the warm chandelier light.
My phone buzzed on the vanity.
A text from my mother: ‘Are you and Viktor doing anything special for your birthday tonight?’
I smiled, typing back a quick reply: ‘Just a small family gathering, Mom. Viktor bought the restaurant.’
A pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
Viktor rested his chin on my shoulder, his dark eyes meeting mine in the reflection of the glass.
“Ready, Mrs. Kozlov?” he murmured, his deep voice sending a familiar, electric thrill down my spine.
“Always,” I whispered, turning around to face him.
Today was my 29th birthday.
And unlike the year before, I wasn't hiding behind a keyboard in a cramped office, waiting for someone to remember I existed.
I walked out of the dressing room on the arm of the most powerful man in Manhattan, stepping into a ballroom filled with loyal friends, brilliant art, and absolute freedom.
Marcus Holloway was a distant, forgotten memory—a cautionary tale of what happens when you discard something priceless because you mistook silence for weakness.
Viktor led me out onto the private balcony overlooking the glittering expanse of New York City, handing me a glass of vintage champagne as the rain washed clean the streets below.
May you like
“Happy birthday, Sarah,” he whispered, kissing my temple softly. “Forever.”
I raised my glass to the city lights, knowing with absolute certainty that no one would ever walk out on me again.
