Breadwinner (Soulmate #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

SARAH

The law office of Braxton, Pryce, and Gallagher was quiet on a Friday night. Everyone had gone home for the evening, and Sarah Gallagher liked it that way.

She sat behind her large mahogany desk, her back to an impressive wall of windows that overlooked Downtown Seattle.

Gentle hues of neon lights reflected off the glossy surface, and Sarah could hear the gentle patter of rain tapping against the glass, but her attention was on the legal brief before her.

She studied the words, pausing momentarily before circling a phrase and writing in the margins in sharp, precise handwriting: “Clause 17C is a trap. Fix it.” She smiled to herself before closing the folder with a satisfying snap.

Sure, she could have saved her final read-through until sometime next week, but Sarah wasn’t the type of woman who let things sit.

She was the type who did what needed to be done before anyone knew they needed it.

A quiet knock drew her attention.

“Sarah?”

Sarah looked up, blinking once over the frame of her glasses. Her assistant, Avery, hovered in the doorway, holding a garment bag in one hand and Sarah’s phone in the other.

“You told me to make you leave if you stayed past eight. You have the Empwr anniversary party, remember?”

She glanced at the time. It was ten past eight.

Time had gotten away from her, like it usually did when work was involved.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go to the Empwr party.

She was proud of the work Jamie Lyons and Shannon York had done to further investment in women’s sports.

But, honestly, she’d rather be anywhere else tonight.

She may have let herself get drawn into her work to put off going to the party because going to that party meant more time spent around her ex-wife, Beth—the same ex-wife she happened to still be completely in love with—and Jamie, who happened to be dating said ex-wife.

This was a problem she was determined to either solve or forget; she just hadn’t decided which yet.

Sarah sighed as she removed her glasses and rubbed at her temples. She saw enough of Beth and Jamie daily as the three navigated co-parenting their daughter, Lily. “You’re right, Avery. I guess I should stop avoiding it.”

Avery arched a brow, unimpressed by the rare moment of vulnerability. “Avoiding what? The party, the schmoozing, or having to be around your ex?”

Sarah smiled as she reached for the garment bag.

Avery was quick—Sarah wouldn’t have hired her if she wasn’t—and one of the few people Sarah let talk to her so bluntly.

She needed that rapport with an assistant, but even that had its limits.

“Don’t get cheeky. You still work for me,” Sarah teased lightly.

“I’m doing the job you hired me to do,” Avery shot back, handing over Sarah’s phone next.

Sarah stood, rolling her shoulders once before moving to the sleek leather loveseat in the corner of her office.

She unzipped the garment bag and pulled out the dress she’d told Avery to have pressed.

It was the one Lily had chosen for Sarah to wear tonight—a sleek, black, backless dress that came with a note scrawled in her daughter’s loopy handwriting.

This has YOU written all over it. Sarah carefully removed the note and slid it into the accompanying clutch.

As she changed in the dim glow of her office, Avery turned politely toward the door and continued speaking. “Your driver’s out front. If we leave in the next five minutes, you’ll make it before the speeches.”

“God forbid I miss an inspirational toast,” Sarah muttered under her breath, tugging the zipper up her side.

She stepped into her heels, smoothed her honey-brown hair back into a low bun, and slipped her lipstick and phone into her clutch.

She glanced in the mirror on the back of her door, taking in her reflection.

Lily had been right, as usual. The dress was very her.

She felt powerful. Untouchable. And damn, she looked good.

She stepped out into the hallway, and Avery gave a low whistle. “If you’re going to suffer through this night, at least you’ll look great doing it.”

Sarah smirked. “That’s always the plan.”

They rode the elevator in silence, the kind only people who spent too much time together shared comfortably. At the bottom floor, Sarah stepped into the cool, damp night air. Rain slicked the pavement in glinting neon, and a black SUV waited at the curb.

She slid into the back seat and looked at the two unread messages waiting on her phone.

Lily 6:45 PM

What did you think of the dress!? Do you love it? I saw it and immediately thought of you! Can’t wait to see you in it.

Beth 7:25 PM

Are you still coming tonight? Lily says she wants a picture with all of us.

Sarah swallowed hard, closed the screen, and leaned against the leather seat as the driver pulled into traffic.

It would be fine. She was fine. She could survive a few hours playing nice with everyone.

Sarah had been doing it every time she’d seen Beth and Jamie for nearly two years, since they had gotten together.

It was the best thing to do for her family, for Lily.

She’d simply take those feelings for Beth—those completely overwhelming, all-encompassing feelings—place them in their box, and put them away.

Tonight wasn’t about her. It was about celebrating Empwr and Jamie.

Pull it together, Gallagher, she told herself as the SUV pulled up in front of an industrial building.

The moment she walked into the glowing, vaulted space of the Empwr party—with its low lighting, brushed-brass fixtures, and cocktail tables dotted around the room—she was hit with the sound of upbeat chatter and soft music coming from a band in the corner.

Even in such a lively space, her gaze immediately found Beth.

It was almost annoying how magnetically drawn to her Sarah had always been.

Beth was across the room, glowing, laughing at something Jamie had whispered in her ear.

Her gold dress shimmered in the low light like molten metal, making it impossible to ignore her.

And God, that dress. It was audacious and bold and entirely Beth. She looked happy.

Which was exactly what Sarah had told herself she wanted. That was the lie she repeated like a mantra every morning while she pulled her hair back into a tight knot and put on the version of herself no one could crack.

She shrugged out of her coat and handed it to the girl working the coat check in exchange for a ticket. Sarah’s eyes were still on Beth, her body turned instinctively toward her. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just let herself watch for a moment. Maybe a second too long . . .

She’d always loved Beth in green—moss, emerald, sage—but this gold was something else. Sarah had always been aware of Beth’s quiet power, sometimes more aware of it than Beth. But this? This was Beth stepping straight into her power without her.

That thought hurt a little more than she’d like to admit. She forced her eyes away before Beth caught her staring, because the only thing worse than wanting Beth this much was knowing she’d never be allowed to show it.

Sarah took her time crossing the room in the opposite direction of the pair, stopping at the bar to order a bourbon on the rocks. Sipping her drink, she scanned the room, trying to look anywhere but at Beth and Jamie, but still, her eyes were drawn back to them.

They were in their own world, and Sarah couldn’t help but watch how Beth’s hand rested easily against Jamie’s arm, her laughter spilling out freely, eyes bright.

Jamie, for her part, was looking at Beth like she had put the stars in the damn sky.

“Kill me,” she thought (possibly aloud), as she rolled her eyes.

It had almost been two years. Two long years of watching Beth fall deeper and deeper in love with someone who wasn’t her.

Sarah handled everything the same way: by compartmentalizing.

By filing away every lingering feeling, every what-if, every quiet ache in a place she could control. Beth was happy. That was what mattered.

She exhaled slowly, tearing her gaze away before she could spiral down a path she had walked a hundred times before. She took the last sip of her drink and placed the empty cup on the bar.

“Sarah Gallagher.”

The voice was steady, smooth like velvet but with the slightest hint of edge—a voice that belonged to someone who was used to people hanging on their every word.

Sarah turned to find herself face-to-face with none other than Cornelia Stanhope.

Even in the dim lighting, Cornelia was impossible to miss.

Her long, dark hair was styled meticulously, not a strand out of place, and her eyes, intense but not unkind, were so acutely blue that they looked like steel.

Sarah took one look at the sheer blouse, the velvet lapels of Cornelia’s tailored jacket—Saint Laurent, if she had to guess—and the way Cornelia seemed to own her space, and Sarah, who was never caught off guard, felt suddenly unsteady.

They had met before, of course. A year ago, at this very party.

It had been a brief exchange. Since then, their paths had crossed a handful of times at charity galas and corporate fundraisers—events where billionaires and the people who worked for them sipped expensive cocktails and made deals over appetizers flown in from around the world.

“It’s Sarah, right?” Cornelia asked, her voice as smooth as her sharp-cut suit. It wasn’t really a question, and Sarah knew that.

Breathe, Sarah, she reminded herself. Use your brain; form words.

She shifted, attempting to pull her posture into something effortless and composed. “That’s right.”

Cornelia handed her a drink. Bourbon. On the rocks. The exact brand she had just finished a glass of. “I noticed your glass was empty,” she said.

Sarah accepted the glass, raising an eyebrow. “Thank you, Cornelia.”