From Jilted Wife To The Tycoon's Queen

The Uber pulled up to an old brick warehouse converted into luxury lofts in the Tribeca neighborhood. Harper grabbed her small bag and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

She swiped her keycard and walked into the apartment she had bought secretly with her own bonus money before the wedding. The loft was empty. There was only a gray fabric sofa and a bed.

She dropped her bag on the wooden floor. She collapsed onto the sofa and stared blankly at the high ceiling.

The doorbell rang violently. Someone started pounding on the heavy metal door. The loud noise echoed in the empty room.

Harper frowned. She dragged herself up and looked through the peephole. A woman with bright red hair and massive sunglasses was standing in the hallway.

Harper pulled the door open. Her best friend from college, Pippa Donovan, screamed and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

Pippa ripped off her sunglasses. She looked at Harper's pale face and the fading bruise on her forehead. "Chase is a blind, stupid piece of trash," Pippa yelled.

Pippa walked into the apartment, dropping her massive Birkin bag onto the sofa. She slammed two bottles of expensive champagne onto the kitchen counter.

"I cannot believe you hid all of this from me," Pippa complained, popping the cork on the first bottle. "If I hadn't seen the news, I wouldn't even know."

Harper took the glass of champagne Pippa handed her. She took a sip. The tension in her shoulders finally relaxed a little.

Pippa looked around the empty apartment and wrinkled her nose. She reached out and snatched the glass out of Harper's hand.

"You are not rotting in this box," Pippa ordered. "You are going back into the New York social scene tonight. We are showing everyone you are alive."

"No," Harper said, rubbing her temples. "I need to sleep. I have to fix the CGI studio mess tomorrow."

Pippa's eyes darted to the side when she heard CGI. She waved her hand. "Work is for tomorrow. Tonight, you belong to me."

Pippa grabbed Harper's arm and dragged her into the bathroom. As she passed the sofa, she snatched her Birkin bag up by its handle with her free hand, slinging it over her shoulder. "I didn't bring half of Sephora across town for nothing," she declared. "You're going to look like the warrior queen you are."

In the bathroom, Pippa dropped the Birkin bag onto the marble counter. She unzipped it and dumped a pile of high-end makeup onto the sink.

For the next hour, Pippa forced Harper to sit still. She painted Harper's face, giving her a sharp, dangerous, and aggressive look.

Pippa walked back out to the living room and pulled a black, deep-V backless designer gown from a garment bag she had left by the door. She forced Harper to put it on.

Harper looked in the mirror. The woman looking back was cold, stunning, and completely different from the quiet wife she used to be.

Pippa smiled, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. She pulled a sleek evening clutch from her Birkin bag, transferring only her phone and lipstick into it, and left the large designer bag resting on the gray fabric sofa. She linked her arm through Harper's and marched her out the door.

A McLaren sports car roared up to the valet stand at The Pierre hotel. Harper and Pippa got out and walked up the red carpet toward the ballroom. The security guards bowed to Pippa.

Harper looked at the wealthy crowd. "What kind of event is this?" she asked quietly.

Pippa smirked. "It is a fake charity gala. My dad threw it to force my workaholic brother to go on blind dates."

Harper's brain stopped working. The word brother echoed in her head. She turned to Pippa, a sudden chill spreading through her chest. "Wait. Your last name is Donovan."

Pippa looked at her, confused. "Antoni Donovan. Did you not know that?" She waved a hand dismissively. "I used my mother's maiden name, Miller, all through college to avoid the paparazzi. I only officially changed it back to Donovan last year, right around the time you were drowning in wedding planning and vendor meetings every weekend. I told you at that brunch, remember? You were on the phone with the florist the whole time."

Harper's stomach dropped. She vaguely remembered a brunch months ago where Pippa had mentioned something about paperwork, but Harper had been so consumed with Chase's demands and the wedding arrangements that she had barely registered the words. And Pippa never talked about her family. In four years of friendship, she had never once mentioned a brother, never posted family photos, never invited Harper to family events. She had always been just Pippa Miller, the wild redhead from the art history seminar.

Now, standing on the red carpet of The Pierre, Harper realized her best friend was the sister of her biggest rival. The man who stole her project and threw her out into the rain.

Harper turned around to run away. Pippa grabbed her arm and dragged her forcefully through the doors.

The heavy doors opened. Bright crystal light poured over them. Everyone in the room turned to look.

Harper was forced to lift her head. She looked across the crowded room. Her eyes locked perfectly with the dark, dangerous eyes of Antoni Donovan, who was standing in the center of the room surrounded by women.