Grace's POV
The scream of metal against metal woke me at 4:30 AM.
I bolted upright in bed, heart hammering. That sound, something grinding, dying, came from the basement. The furnace.
No. Not today. Please, not today.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. The screen showed three missed calls and a text from a number I'd been ignoring for weeks: Final notice. Payment required or we shut you down.
My stomach twisted. Forty-seven thousand dollars in debt. That's what happened when your fiancé stole everything and left you with nothing but broken dreams and a sanctuary full of animals who needed you.
The grinding stopped. Silence filled the cottage.
Then I heard it, the complete, terrifying absence of the heater's hum.
No, no, no. I threw off my blankets and ran downstairs in bare feet and pajamas. The cold hit me like a slap. My breath came out in white puffs.
Dead. The furnace was completely dead.
I grabbed my winter coat and boots, pulled them on over my pajamas, and rushed outside. The February air cut through my lungs. Snow crunched under my feet as I headed toward the barn, checking on the animals. They'd freeze without heat.
That's when I saw her.
A dog, skinny, shivering, heavily pregnant, huddled under the barn. Her ribs stuck out like piano keys. Her eyes watched me with pure terror.
Hey, sweetheart, I whispered, crouching down. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you.
She pressed herself further into the shadows.
My phone rang. I glanced at the screen. The creditor again. I declined the call and shoved the phone in my pocket.
You're about to have puppies, aren't you? I kept my voice soft, nonthreatening. Can't do that out here. You'll freeze.
The dog's whole body trembled.
I knew that fear. Knew what it felt like to be abandoned, scared, not knowing who to trust anymore. Eighteen months ago, I'd been that terrified creature—standing in a wedding dress, waiting for a man who never showed up.
Marcus had texted from the airport: You were always too focused on saving broken things. Learn from this.
Then he'd drained our joint business account and disappeared with my best friend.
I shook off the memory. That was then. This was now. And this dog needed me.
For two hours, I lay in the freezing mud under that barn. I talked to her. Offered her food, small pieces of chicken I'd run back to get. Showed her I wasn't a threat.
Finally, she took the food from my hand.
Good girl, I breathed. That's it. You're so brave.
It took another hour, but she finally let me touch her. Let me gently guide her out from under the barn.
I'm going to call you Honey, I whispered, leading her toward the clinic. Because something this sweet deserves a sweet name.
Inside the small veterinary clinic attached to my cottage, I examined her carefully. Pregnant. Malnourished. Exhausted. But alive.
I was wrapping her in warm blankets when my assistant Jenny walked in, stomping snow off her boots.
The furnace died, I said before she could ask about my mud-covered pajamas.
Jenny's face fell. Grace, no.
I'll call someone later. After I figured out how to pay for it. Right now, Honey needs
The new community service guy starts today.
My hands stilled on Honey's fur. You're joking.
Wish I was. Jenny pulled off her gloves. Judge's office called yesterday. Some Wall Street type who punched his boss. At work. In front of everyone.
I closed my eyes. Perfect. Another entitled rich guy doing his time before running back to his comfortable life.
I'd had five community service workers in the past year. They showed up hungover, complained about the smell, did the absolute minimum, and quit the second they could.
He'll last three days, I muttered. They always do.
This one sounds different.
They're all the same, Jenny. I stood, brushing dirt off my coat. Men in expensive suits who thought the rules didn't apply to them. Men who lied and took what they wanted and left you drowning in the wreckage. He'll show up, realize actual work is involved, and disappear.
Just like everyone else.
Jenny opened her mouth to respond, but I waved her off. I need coffee. Can you stay with Honey?
Sure, but Grace
I was already heading for the cottage. I needed caffeine. Needed a minute to breathe. Needed to figure out how to keep this place running when everything was falling apart.
Inside, I made coffee with shaking hands. The kitchen was freezing. The whole cottage would be ice-cold by tonight without heat. Three thousand dollars for a new furnace. Money I absolutely did not have.
My phone buzzed again. Another creditor.
I stared at the screen, at the number I'd been avoiding, and felt something inside me crack.
Just get through today, I whispered to the empty kitchen. One more day. That's all you have to do.
I walked to the window, coffee mug warming my frozen fingers, and looked out at the snow-covered sanctuary. Fifteen acres of donated land. Twenty-three animals who depended on me. A mortgage I couldn't pay and debts piling up like snowdrifts.
This was supposed to be my fresh start. My chance to rebuild after Marcus destroyed everything.
But maybe some things were too broken to fix.
A flash of movement caught my eye. A car turning into my driveway.
I froze.
It was a BMW. Black, sleek, expensive. The kind of car that cost more than my entire annual budget.
The kind of car Marcus used to drive.
My coffee mug slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor.
Because stepping out of that BMW was a man in a designer suit, sporting a black eye, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.
And I knew, with sudden, terrible certainty, that my day was about to get so much worse.