The Secret Heir

ng up at the Wedgwood medallion embossed across the ceiling high above. I keep expecting to wake up for real back in my cozy studio apartment a few blocks away from J

Bastian strode boldly back into Manhattan declaring me his affianced before an enthralled global audience. And judging by the magnitude of noises drifti

in my family for generations. My phone has blown up with so many exuberant messages that the device froze overnight. I final

xcitement still lines their words about me inspiring new compositions or teaching at the university level someday while balancing the high-powered spouse and social responsibilities I was born into. If only they knew the man wh

re always the worst social climbers-no wonder they instantly updated their fawning history with me from hostile mean girls to bosom buddies now that flashing paparazzi lens

art. Magazines ran coy gossip suggesting Bastian pursued Euro heiresses and models all those years he was supposedly "studying fina

tan since the Gilded Era's inception-ignore the public chatter entirely and float serenely above it all. Eleanor surely has our family publicist Danica dispatching strict orders across newsroom editor

firms my fear that he has gone completely radio silent now that pomp and circumstance have ripped away our private world witho

and biscotti. I accept it gratefully, desperate for any sense of normal routine to calm r

inal bridal selections at Vera Wang this afternoon and Bentley's jewelry tomorrow. Shall I

ked some savage curse than speak this agony into existence so soon. But expectation dictates the initial pre-wedding planning begin instantly for

ing cake testing while I stare numbly back at her kind round face, feeling terrifyingly unmo

excursion probably until next spring! But try embracing the excitement when you can, my love. Some young brides would we

tomorrow's heirloom browsing with Mother at Bentley's. Alone again, I cross the enormous taupe and ivory carpet to my walk-in closet lined with designer apparel. My fi

hese last precious years. The silk and tulle confections awaiting my assessment at Vera Wang's elegant bridal atelier will surely vanish like mist through my fingers for I cannot be here selecting one while knowing my truest heart sha

y through silk, lace and designer label after meaningless label. Not even to verify if Nathan's handsome face flashes urgently across the cracked screen demanding we final

of my Tory Burch heels against marble echos my pounding heart's refrain-this remains a temporary nightmare you need only survive...just hold yourself together stronger than Grandfather wea

frozen against cold pillared marble, peering cautiously downward through the iron filigree railing. Three silhouetted figures stand together beside windows overlo

. I hold breath, watching the intimate exchange with sovereign dread-Amanda's anguished and uninhibited tears before Mo

arrying faintly up the marble and mahogany throat of the cavernous stair landing. Amanda heaves muffled words bet

as going to propose while we were away this summer in Nice. But then Bastian came b

iating through my gown's fabric might steady pounding pulse. Amanda had been Bastian's premiere girlfriend, according to gossip rags I occasionally glimpsed

fortified by new money shrewdness from her trader father. Seeing her golden persona now tarnished by such rare

was on the brink of pledging commitment after almost two years devoted together. What young woman wouldn't imagine he

aking mascara without staining the front of her perfectly tailored Chanel suit. I expect callous ridicule to spew next about wounded egos or laughing

of the heart, I am terribly sorry for your pain, my dear. Please know you shall remain one of

pathy is the very last emotion I expected to receive myself at some point from Eleanor. Her words echo with strange urgen

ante trails me still as Amos ushers me into the idling town car at the foot of limestone front steps beneath my family's formidable facade. I settle numbly onto supple leat

might my heart have wandered if Nathan suddenly resurfaced like Bastian declaring himself my rightful groom...would I still somehow have found mysel

d their own stately facades. My aching heart knows with sudden, wretched conviction that even if Nathan fought for me against the full weight of g

me can halt this forward lurch down destiny's unrelenting gilt altar aisle so long as air fills my lungs. The on