Jilted Heiress: Marrying My Mysterious Protector

"You can't be serious, Aria. You brought paper to a pool party?"

The voice cut through the ambient chatter of the Hamptons backyard like a serrated knife. Aria Young tightened her grip on the leather portfolio case, her knuckles turning white. She stood on the edge of the limestone patio, feeling the heat of fifty pairs of eyes shifting toward her.

"It's not just paper, Corina," Aria said, her voice steady despite the sudden dryness in her throat. "It's the original draft of the Lloyd Center. The one you said you wanted for your collection."

Corina Lloyd stood by the edge of the infinity pool, bathed in the golden hour sunlight. She wore a white high-couture dress that probably cost more than Aria's car. She looked like an angel, if angels smiled with that specific kind of malice that only sisters-stepsisters-could recognize.

"Oh, right. The sketches." Corina extended a hand, her manicured fingers wiggling expectantly. "Bring it here, then. Don't be shy."

Aria stepped forward. Her heels clicked on the stone, a rhythmic countdown to a disaster she should have seen coming. She navigated through the crowd of socialites and influencers, feeling like an intruder in the home she grew up in.

She reached Corina. She extended the portfolio.

"Happy birthday," Aria said.

Corina reached out. Her fingers brushed the leather. Then, inexplicably, she retracted her hand just as Aria let go.

The portfolio didn't hit the ground. It hit the water.

"No!" Aria's instinct overrode her dignity. She lunged forward, dropping to her knees to grab the sinking leather case before the chlorine ruined the ink.

"Aria, what are you doing?" Corina shrieked.

It happened in a blur. As Aria reached for the case, Corina stumbled backward. She flailed, her arms windmilling in a performance worthy of Broadway, before she tipped over the edge.

The splash was deafening.

Water sprayed over Aria's face, cold and shocking. She froze, her hand hovering over the water, the portfolio already sinking to the bottom.

"Corina!" someone screamed.

Aria scrambled back, her wet dress clinging to her knees. Before she could stand, a blur of motion slammed into her shoulder.

"Get away from her!"

Julian Vance didn't even look at Aria. He shoved her aside with enough force that she twisted her ankle, stumbling onto the grass. He dove into the pool, suit and all.

Aria sat on the wet stone, her heart hammering against her ribs. The pain in her ankle was a dull throb compared to the sharp sting of humiliation burning her neck.

Julian surfaced, dragging a coughing, sputtering Corina to the edge. He hoisted her up, his face a mask of pure panic.

"I've got you," Julian gasped, smoothing Corina's wet hair back. "You're okay."

Corina clung to him, shivering violently. She looked up, her mascara running down her cheeks, and pointed a trembling finger at Aria.

"Sister," Corina sobbed, her voice breaking. "If you're still mad about the inheritance, just say it. Why did you push me?"

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