He searched for an explanation.
None came.
Because there wasn’t one.
I continued packing.
As shirts, dresses, shoes, and jackets disappeared into the suitcase, memories surfaced with each item.
I remembered our first date.
He had seemed genuinely interested in me.
Not my job.
Not money.
Me.
That was exactly what I wanted.
After growing up surrounded by wealth, I had promised myself I would never introduce myself through my bank account.
My grandmother had taught me something far more valuable than investing.
“Money never creates character, Maren,” Eleanor Alden used to tell me.
“It exposes whatever was already there.”
She had been right.
When she passed away, she left me a carefully managed investment portfolio.
Nothing extravagant.
Just enough for an opportunity.
At twenty-four, I bought a neglected office building that everyone else considered worthless.
Most people saw cracked concrete.
Broken windows.
Old wiring.
I saw possibility.
I spent months overseeing renovations myself.
Some days I negotiated financing in the morning and carried construction materials that afternoon.
I learned every part of the business.
Every mistake.
Every success.
One building became two.
Then five.
Then twelve.
Eleven years later, Alden Meridian Group had become one of New England’s fastest-growing privately owned real estate development companies.
Boston.
Cambridge.
Providence.
Coastal Maine.
Commercial buildings.
Luxury residences.
Historic renovations.
The company employed hundreds of people.
I hadn’t inherited an empire.
I had built one.
And somehow…
The man standing three feet away from me had never bothered to ask who founded the company whose name appeared on my business card.
Not because I lied.
Because he simply never cared enough to find out.
When the first suitcase was full, I zipped it shut.
“I’ll send someone for everything else.”
His confidence finally began to crack.
“Maren…”
His voice softened.
“Where exactly are you going?”
“The Harbor Crown.”
He frowned.
“The new tower?”
“Yes.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You know someone who lives there?”
“I do.”
He laughed nervously.
“I didn’t realize you had friends with that kind of money.”
I almost corrected him.
Instead, I simply picked up my suitcase.
He stepped aside automatically.
As I reached the bedroom door, he spoke again.
“Maren.”
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