“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a few more days?” Denise asks, standing in the doorway in her pink bathrobe.

“Don’t worry about me. I feel fine.” I pull my hair into a ponytail, ignoring the ache in my head.

She sits on the bed. “What if you’re making a mistake?”

I allow my hands to fall at my sides. “What do you mean?”

“What if you’re walking away from your fairytale, from something beautiful?”

“A relationship with Lance, you mean?” I sink onto the bed next to her. “There’s nothing there. There’s no going back.”

“But what if he still loves you?”

“Trust me, he doesn’t. Not anymore. I saw it in his eyes when he asked me to leave his life.”

“Then why did I find him at your place this morning?”

“No idea. What’s the point anyway? It’s over. I have to deal with it.” I’ve spent many hours wrestling with whether I should give him a call, maybe thank him for covering my medical expenses, but I didn’t have the courage. I can’t get myself to hear his voice again, to see his face and then watch him walk away from my life. But most of all, I don’t want to hurt him more than I already have.

I push myself to my feet and go to the window. “My cab is outside. I have to go.”

“Can we at least stay friends?” Denise stands up, her arms open wide.

“Of course.” I accept her hug and step back. My mouth twitches with a smile. “Thank you for everything you did for me. I’ll never forget it.”

“What else are friends for?” She winks. “New friends.”

I can’t believe all these years I kept her at a distance. I should have let her in, shared my story with her. I’m pleasantly surprised to know that she’s more than a pretty face. She has a good heart. She’s the only person from this life I’ll keep in touch with. If Grace weren’t connected to the LaClaires, I would have wanted to continue having her in my life, as well. But it’ll be too painful for Lance and Rose.

“Don’t worry about your apartment. I’ll clean it out for you and give the key to Norman. I’ll tell him you have a family emergency out of town.”

“I really appreciate it.” I hug her again. “Please take whatever you need and sell the rest.”

“Sure. Just promise me not to go and commit any other crimes.”

I laugh in spite of myself. “I promise. I’ll keep this name clean.”

After a final goodbye, I leave Denise’s apartment. At the elevator, I consider going up to my place to get my journals, but Lance might still be there. I can’t take the risk.

The only thing I take with me as I step out of the elevator downstairs is a small bag Denise had given me, filled with several clothing items she no longer needs—most of them pink.

Once I leave the building, I tip my head up to the night sky and inhale. I can do this. I’m a strong woman. I have survived things much worse than heartbreak.

Holding on to my shaky confidence, I get into the cab which drives me to the bus I plan on taking out of town.

Once I’ve taken my seat close to the front of the bus, I let out a long breath, which I didn’t even know I was holding.

When the bus starts moving, I lean my head back and close my eyes.

I hear the sound of someone taking the empty seat next to mine, but I don’t open my eyes to look. I’m in no mood to talk to strangers.

“Going somewhere?” A man whispers into my ear, and my eyes fly open. When I see who it is, my head jerks back so fast, the pain inside it shoots to a whole new level.

“Lance? What ... What are you doing here?”

“I saw you leaving your apartment building and followed you. I’m going wherever you’re going.”

“I don’t understand.” I ignore the fluttering sensation in my stomach. “What are you doing? You didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. I’m here to tell you that I read your journals. I know the truth … all of it.”

“Those were personal,” I mumble.

“I’m sure you understand that I needed answers, Jia.”

“Good. Now you’ve got them. Let me go on with my life.”

“Before I do that, I need you to go back to the hospital. I want the doctors to make sure you’re all right.”

A burst of laughter spills from my lips. “I don’t get why you care. I lied to you. I hurt you. I don’t blame you for walking away. So, walk away.”

“You did hurt me,” he says. “You shredded my heart.” He’s quiet for a moment. I hear him swallow. “It was painful to discover that I was one of your targets.”

I feel myself wilt inside. I don’t respond. What could I say to him when he has already found the truth between the pages of my journals?

It’s true. He was the perfect target.

The first months in Boston were hard. I lived in a crappy apartment, juggling jobs that couldn’t pay the rent, trying to make ends meet. While I was working as a barista in a tiny café in the city center, I came across a story about the wealthy Lance LaClaire. I read about his pain and his struggles, how he found it hard to live his life in a wheelchair. Before I knew it, I became hooked on following his life story. As a result, I read every paper I could get my hands on about him. My obsession with him awakened the temptations of the past, which led me to spend many sleepless nights wrestling with the idea of doing again what I had been so good at.

With Kirk in prison, I would be my own boss. I could keep all the money. To lessen my guilt, I told myself that I’d only do it one more time. I promised myself that I’d use the money to start a more honest life. Before I could stop myself, I created a plan on how I could get into Lance’s life. The idea to apply for a job caring for him came to me the day I was fired from one of my three jobs. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I spent the spare time watching videos and reading books on caring for a wheelchair bound person. I used the little money I’d saved up to pay for fake certifications and references. Then I took the leap. I never expected to fall for him. Now here I am, brokenhearted and broke.

“I’m really sorry, Lance.” I turn to gaze out the window.

Lance clears his throat. “I also know that after Alice died, you changed your mind about screwing me over.”

I look back at him, tears in my eyes. “I did fall in love with you. You have to believe that.” My gaze falls to my lap. “But I understand why you no longer want anything to do with me.”

“What I want is for you to go back to the hospital. I want to make sure you’re healthy.”

“And then you’ll say goodbye to me all over again?” My words come out in pieces.

He lays a hand on my thigh. “No. Then we can get married. If it’s not too late.”

“You ...” I blink rapidly. “Why? You’re not afraid I could—”

“Not when I have this.” He hands me a thick envelope.

“What is it?” I hesitate before opening it.

“A prenuptial agreement. If you still want to get married, I’ll need you to sign it.”

As I leaf through the many pages in my hands, I realize that Denise was right. Walking away without asking Lance for another chance would have been a mistake. He’s everything to me; so is Rose. I need both of them in my life, and I’ll do anything to keep them. “Do you have a pen?” I ask.

He pulls a silver pen from his pocket. Our hands brush when I take it, and a shiver runs through me. I give him a bright smile, unable to believe this is happening, then I sign every page that requires my signature.

“You didn’t read through it,” he says, taking the legal document back.

“No need. I know everything I need to know. It’s enough to know you love me. If you choose to leave me tomorrow, I’m prepared to walk away without a cent.” A tear rolls down my cheek. “I love you, Lance LaClaire and no longer because of your money.” I lean in, and our lips touch.

When he pulls back, there’s a glint in his eye. “Now that we have that out of the way allow me to do this.” He holds up the prenuptial agreement and tears it down the middle.

I bring my hands to my lips. “What are you doing?”

“It was a test. We don’t need it. If you leave me tomorrow and take my money with you, it’ll all be worth the time I got to spend with you.”

“Never.” I kiss him again. “I never want to leave you. A life without you in it is not one worth living.”

He takes my hand and glances down at it. “You still have the ring?”

I nod. “I didn’t have the courage to take it off yet.” I never intended to sell it for money, even though I was desperate for cash. I had planned on mailing it to him once I found the courage to let go of it.

“Well, I guess I don’t have to propose again, then.” He tightens his fingers on my hand. “We better get off this bus.”

“We should.” I look back out the window, surprised to discover that the bus had come to a halt. “Where are we?” My eyebrows draw together.

“The hospital. I asked the bus driver to bring us here. I need you to have a checkup tonight. Then if everything is okay, tomorrow we’ll fly to Cabo for our wedding.”

“Really?” I breathe. I’m still finding it hard to believe he forgave me for everything I did wrong.

“Really.” He kisses my cheek and grins. “I had given you a chance to plan our wedding before, and you messed up. Now it’s my turn to make it happen.”

“Yes, please.” I laugh out loud, my headache forgotten. “Take the wheel, Mr. LaClaire.”

“Quick question, though,” he says before we exit the bus. “You don’t plan on taking back your old name, do you? I’m kind of used to Jia.”

“Nope. Alana is gone forever. Jia is here to stay—with you.”