Elodie, 1994
Thanksgiving Day was bright but shockingly cold. Elodie fortified herself with a glass of scotch before the bracing walk three blocks north on Park Avenue. She’d been tempted not to show up after all. But she couldn’t let her father down.
Four months after the paparazzi photos of her sisters and Liam on the beach, she still hadn’t seen her sisters. She moved out of her parents’ apartment and got her own place a few blocks away on Lexington. Celeste stayed hidden away on Cape Cod, and Paulina continued to flit around like a butterfly, only now with Liam following along like a dutiful dog. And Elodie spent ten hours a day at the Pavlin & Co office, working beside their father. She knew she was becoming a workaholic, but it was her only outlet—not just to forget about Liam, but to secure her place as her father’s number two. But on the eve of Thanksgiving, her endless need to please her father backed her into a corner.
“Your mother asked me to make sure you’ll be joining us for the holiday,” he said. “She wants everyone together. No matter the . . . challenges.”
“Who’s everyone?” she said, her stomach twisting into a knot.
“Your sisters, of course.”
“Celeste is coming?”
“We’ve made it clear we expect her.”
“And who else?”
“Paulina. I’ve insisted. We must find a way past this. I won’t have the Pavlin house divided.”
So there it was. She would have to face Paulina at last.
She squared her shoulders, looked her father in the eye, and nodded her agreement. She refused to act like the loser. Men would come and go, but Elodie was on her way to becoming one of the most high-profile executives in Manhattan. Paulina was a child. She was the flavor of the month. Really, she’d done Elodie a favor by saving her from the distraction of being in love.
Inside the apartment, her parents’ living room was lit with a fire, and one corner was already dominated by a towering Christmas tree even though they were Jewish. Constance and Alan could not resist tinsel and lights—glitter was embraced in any form.
“Mother, the apartment looks beautiful,” Elodie said, kissing both parents on the cheek.
“And you look lovely,” Constance said. Elodie had dressed carefully for the occasion in a Chanel suit with a spectacular string of black South Sea pearls around her neck. They had just arrived at the showroom a few days earlier and her father said she could borrow them for the night.
Paulina stood in front of the couch. Her long hair was loose, and her flawless face was flushed—either from the fire or from nerves. Either way, Elodie could see how scared she was to finally see her. It was incredibly gratifying. One day, Liam Maybrook would be out of the picture, and Paulina would spend the rest of her life trying to make it up to her older sister. One day, Elodie might even forgive her.
And then a flash of color caught her eye. It was a stone on Paulina’s finger, refracting the firelight. Elodie’s heart began to race. She stepped closer.
The Electric Rose.
It could only mean one thing.
“I wanted to tell you in person,” Paulina said.
Elodie stared at the pink diamond until she was able to summon her voice.
“That ring is a symbol of how you betrayed me. I hope you think of that every time you look at it. I know I certainly will. And I’ll never forgive you.”
Not as long as she lived.