Prologue
Farah
Stepping across the threshold into the entryway of the old Victorian, I was hit with the smells of wood rot and mold.
I was far from an expert when it came to construction, but considering the state the house was in, I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn the whole place needed to be ripped down to the studs.
And that didn’t bother me one damn bit.
“Uh, Ms. Hyland?”
At my realtor’s voice, I stopped gazing around and turned my attention to him. “Please, call me Farah.”
“Okay, Farah. I have to admit, I was more than a little surprised when you asked to view this property.” He looked around at the rambling pile of rubble with undisguised dismay. “It’s . . . well, a disaster, really.”
“It’s not a disaster, Mr. Clark,” I insisted, taking in what was probably a stunning parlor back in the day. Where the tin ceiling tiles probably once added character, they were now completely covered in rust. The gaudy floral wallpaper was peeling, and rodents had eaten holes in the drywall, exposing wiring that would undoubtedly fail inspection. What was once a gorgeous home had been abandoned, left to rot away. “It’s a fixer-upper.”
“That may be. But with your budget, you can easily afford a place that’s move-in ready. This . . . this will take a lot of work.”
I knew he was trying to talk me out of the place, but I felt a sense of belonging in this house. It had been neglected far too long, just like me. With the help of the two people I held most dearly, I’d been able to pull myself up and put the pieces of my tattered life back together, and now that I was strong enough, I was going to offer this old girl the same chance.
The shape of the house might have been a deterrent to most people, but to me, the challenge made my blood sing and filled me with excitement.
I was a twenty-six-year-old woman who, until recently, had never had to work for anything. All my life, I’d had things handed to me on a silver platter. But those things came with a million strings attached, and the saddest part was, most of what I had, I’d never wanted in the first place.
Just like every generation before me for as long as I could trace back, I’d been born and raised in Connecticut, living the entitled life that came with the Hyland name. My great-great-grandfather had struck it big in steel, setting my family up to be one of the richest in all of New England. The Hyland’s were the very definition of old money, and with the name came expectations I’d always hated.
From the time I came into this world, my entire life had been planned for me. Everything from what college I’d attend and what I’d major in to the man I’d eventually marry had all been chosen without my say. Hylands didn’t make waves. We were expected to sit back, keep our mouths shut, and just go with it. But because I had a mind of my own and dared to question my parents’ plans for me, I was labeled the black sheep of the family.
All my relatives looked down their noses at me, snickering and whispering behind my back at family events.
As far as my parents were concerned, I was a stain on the family name. I was the daughter of Geoffrey and Margo Hyland, for God’s sake. My father was the oldest son and heir to the Hyland Steel fortune. I was to do as they said without batting an eye, and the fact that I believed I should have a say in my future made me a huge disappointment to them—something they’d begun making all too clear to me as soon as I was old enough to understand words.
After so many years of having my own parents despise me, that strong will I’d been born with had been beaten into submission. I stopped thinking about what I wanted and became the obedient daughter they’d always desired.
I attended Cornell University because that was where they wanted me to go and got a worthless degree in Fine Arts because they deemed it appropriate. After all, it wouldn’t do for a Hyland woman not to be educated, but we weren’t actually supposed to work. It was our job to marry money, pop out babies, and volunteer on the boards of several respectable charities.
I’d begun dating Lance Maryweather, the son of my parents’ best friends, not because I was attracted to him, but because it had been arranged by our families. And when he proposed the winter before last, I’d said yes because, according to my father, it was a wise business move, having the princess of a steel fortune married to the heir of a line of thriving department stores.
We’d been set for a spring wedding, because spring was the ideal time for a lavish outdoor wedding for the upper crust of society. Our mothers had been in fits, planning the wedding of the century, and for months it was all anyone could talk about. Everyone who was anyone would be in attendance, and I was going to be the envy of all the women in my social circle. Or at least that had been the plan.
Then one night had changed everything in a way that was irreversible. It had changed me. But then, nearly dying had a tendency to do that to a person.
I woke up in that hospital bed a broken shell of my former self. It had taken months to pull myself together, but once I had, I knew I’d been given a second chance, and there was no way I was letting it go to waste.
Starting fresh hadn’t been easy. Cutting ties that had kept me tethered to a life I never liked nor wanted had been an arduous task, but I’d done it. Breaking things off with Lance had been the easiest part. Truth was, knowing I wouldn’t be stuck with him for the rest of my life was a serious weight lifted off my chest, but my parents were a different story. In spite of how they’d made me feel growing up, I still craved their approval. They were my blood, and having them turn their backs on me hurt more than I could have imagined.
I guess, in the back of my mind, I’d held out hope that they would understand why I needed to do what I’d done. But I’d been wrong.
By the time I’d finished shaking off the dregs of my old life, I only had two people left to support me. Fortunately, they were more than enough. With their help, I held on to the strength I needed to start this next chapter of my life.
I was a whole new Farah. Granted, I was a new Farah who didn’t have the first clue what she wanted to do with her new life, but still, it was exhilarating to have the chance, and I wasn’t going to squander it.
Turning back to my realtor, I felt my lips tug up in a smile so big it made my cheeks ache. “Anything worth having is worth putting in the work, Mr. Clark. Make an offer.”
He raised one brow, giving me an incredulous look. “You’re sure?”
“Oh yeah.” Tipping my head back, I scanned the house that would hopefully soon become my home, feeling an unfamiliar warmth begin to unfurl in my chest. “I’m absolutely positive.”
Chapter One
Farah
“So, what do you think? What’s the damage?” I asked nervously. I’d been standing in my brand new house, anxiously gnawing on my thumbnail the whole time the contractor had been looking everything over, and I couldn’t shake the sense that I’d bitten off more than I could chew when I finally got the keys to the old girl last week.
Lowering the clipboard he was holding to his side, he gave me his attention, and I couldn’t help but notice just how handsome the man was . . . all tall, muscular, and commanding. I normally would have been in a state of panic at being alone with a man like him, but he’d been nothing but professional and polite since pulling up in his big truck earlier, and his demeanor had put me at ease.