“Princess.”


    When Rowan was little, he used to call her that all the time.


    Elissa had only spent a year or two suffering in the orphanage and then in the old woman’s garden–nowhere near enough time to wear down the pampered


    temperament she’d grown up with.


    All it took was a little kindness from Rowan, and soon enough, her old self came right back.


    She was seven then–earnest but spoiled, kind–hearted yet willful, every bit the little princess she’d been raised to be.


    She’d even go so far as to clutch her favorite stuffed animal and, barefoot, sneak into Rowan’s room during summer thunderstorms in the dead of night.


    Rowan was six years older, already in his teens and well aware that boys and girls shouldn’t share a room. He’d keep a stony face and send her back to her own bed.


    But little Elissa, thoroughly spoiled by him, would dart right into his bed anyway. With a nket draped over her head and a pout on her lips, she’d dere with perfect confidence, “But big brother, little Nine is terrified of thunder! If I stay alone, the lightning will get me!”


    Rowan never did tell her that only rotten people get struck by lightning.


    He’d just re at her, exasperated and resigned. “Princess, what am I supposed to do with you?”


    Even at that age, Elissa was clever enough to hear the affection and surrender in his voice.


    But everything changed after that.


    When Rowan decided he didn’t want her anymore, and she set her heart on marrying Frank, every time he called her “Princess,” the word dripped with mockery.


    As if he wereughing at her, as if to say–do you really think you’re still that cherished little girl in my eyes?


    Can’t you see you’re not as special as you think?


    Yet tonight, perhaps because of the alcohol, Elissa heard something different in the


    <b>1/3 </b>


    11/11


    word. It sounded almost the way it had when they were children.


    She leaned against the car door, feeling the warmth of his hand pressed to her wrist. The air was thick with the subtle scent of his cologne–a fragrance she recognized


    immediately.


    She’d given him that cologne for his eighteenth birthday.


    Rowan had loved it.


    After that, it was the only bottle he kept on his dresser. Whenever he was running <i>low</i>,


    she’d make sure to rece it before he ran out.


    Funny, she thought. He could stay loyal to a bottle of cologne for years, but he’d tossed her aside without a second thought.


    Elissa snapped back to reality, quietly pulling her wrist away. Her voice was calm, almost mocking. “Mr. Murphy, you’re overthinking it. I don’t make a habit of tripping over the same stone twice.”


    With that, she opened the car door and stepped out. The icy wind pped her face and sobered her instantly.


    She sniffed, pulling her professional mask back on. “Mr. Murphy, the project update’s


    done. I’ll head home now.”


    “Drive safe.”


    –


    Elissa had assumed that after the past couple of days, Marcia would be too


    embarrassed to show her face at the clinic.


    But Marcia seemed oblivious <i>to </i>the sidelong nces from everyone. After just two days off, she breezed in carrying bags of imported snacks and fruit.


    She even made a point of sharing them with the nurses and doctors who worked with Elissa.


    During her lunch break, Elissa went to wash her hands and found the staff looking at her with silent pleas for rescue.


    Marcia just smiled at her. “Surely Dr. Drummond isn’t so petty as to stop people from epting a few treats, right?”


    Elissa hadn’t intended to get involved, but seeing Marcia try to take the upper hand, she cut her off. “You’re here to work today?”


    <b>11:11 </b>


    “I’m off today,” Marcia replied, utterly shameless. “Just happened to be passing by, so I brought something for everyone.”


    “Oh? So you’re here on your own time.” Elissa tucked her hands into her white coat pockets and looked at her coolly. “In that case, you should call me Mrs. Atwater. Isn’t that right, homewrecker?”


    The whole room froze.


    Then, as if on cue, a few people broke into muffledughter, covering it with coughs.


    Damn.


    Who knew Dr. Drummond could bite like that? She’d always seemed <i>so </i>calm–who would have guessed she could strike like lightning?


    It was glorious.


    Marcia’s face turned an ugly shade, but she drew herself up, still trying to act superior. “You really think you’ll always be Mrs. Atwater?”