Chapter 2
Jessica was still sitting on his lap, her arms looped around his neck. Her black satin dress clung to every curve, the
neckline cut daringly low
She looked up at me, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction, her lipstick smeared.
When Chad spoke. Jessica pouted. “Mrs. Wellington, he’s so mean. He couldn’t stop calling your name the whole time.”
Before I could respond. Chad laughed dryly. “Keep talking, and my wife might just throw you off the hill herself.”
I watched the naked ambition in Jessica’s eyes and asked, with a slight smile, “Oh? How should I do it? The way Benjamin
Cole threw you out of his hotel room?”
Jessica’s smirk vanished instantly.
Later, in the vast living room, Chad and I sat across from each other. He studied me with interest. “How do you know
about her and Ben Cole? You’ve been checking up on me?*
I just looked at him. “Do you have to parade them right under my nose?”
They had been practically glued to each other just outside the villa, a property Chad owned, barely a quarter mile from
our own house.
He raised an eyebrow, unconcerned. “She wanted to be close to me. Where else was I supposed to put her? Our bedroom?”
I gave a bitter smile. When had he ever cared about my dignity?
I started to go to bed, but he caught my wrist and pulled me onto his lap. His hand slipped under my shirt, his fingers
brushing over the dense cluster of needle marks on my belly.
His tone was casual, like he was talking about the weather. “You know, honey, those fertility shots have turned your stomach into a pincushion, and still nothing. Instead of watching me, maybe spend more time praying to Saint Gerard.”
I pushed his hand away and stood up. “Why bother praying to the patron saint of motherhood? You’ve got a girl in every
zip code. One of them is bound to give you a child sooner or later.”
His voice sharpened with impatience. “Enough, Olivia. You’re not the heiress who could bring snow to Eagle Peak
anymore. That was a long time ago.”
The night on Eagle Peak was too quiet. So quiet that when my heart broke, there wasn’t even an echo.
Before the Hayes family fell from grace, I had my pick of wealthy suitors. But Chad was the most persistent.
Back then, proud and idealistic, I had told him, ‘Chad, you can’t give me what I want.” I wanted devotion, loyalty, his
whole heart. How could a known playboy give me that?
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He had just smiled, unfazed. “What do you want. Olivia? Name it. I’ll make it happen.
The Wellington heir was known for grand gestures. Trying to make him back off, I pointed at the July sky over
Cherryhill. “Fine. I want snow on Eagle Peak.”
Seven days later. It snowed on Eagle Peak. On a sweltering summer night, white flakes fell, drifting into the bay, dusting
the rooftops, and landing softly in my heart.
I later learned the stunt had cost a fortune. Top technicians, five industrial snowmakers from Norway, liquid nitrogen
cooling systems, environmental fines.
Total cost well over a million dollars.
It was said each snowflake cost five hundred dollars. Chad bought full page ads in every city paper, each featuring a single
line. [The snow on Eagle Peak comes once in a lifetime.]
After we married, so much happened. Good, bad, tender, cruel. But I held onto the memory of that snow for a long time, long enough that nothing that came after could fully erase its magic.
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