Chapter 1: The Fall

Rain hammered against the thirty-second-floor windows of Newhouse Industries as James meticulously organized inventory reports at his logistics department desk. At twenty-six, he had spent three grueling years working in the most basic levels of the family enterprise, exactly as decreed by his father, Richard Newhouse III.

The memory of that conversation still burned fresh in his mind. He had walked into his father’s corner office, diploma in hand, expecting congratulations and perhaps a discussion about his future role in the company.

“Congratulations, son,” Richard had said without looking up from his papers. “Harvard Business School, summa cum laude. Impressive.”

“Thank you, Father. I’m ready to begin contributing to the company’s success.”

Richard had finally looked up, his steel-gray eyes cold and calculating. “Are you? Tell me, James, what do you know about the man who cleans the bathrooms on the third floor? What about the woman who manages our supplier relationships in Southeast Asia? Do you know their names? Their stories? Their value to this organization?”

James had shifted uncomfortably. “I ... well, no, but—”

“Exactly my point.” Richard had leaned back in his leather chair. “If you’re going to run this company someday, you need to know every bolt, every process, every employee. You’ll start from the bottom, just as I did, just as my father did. You’ll earn respect through understanding, not inheritance.”

“But Father, surely with my education and—”

“Your education makes you qualified to learn, nothing more. Derek understands this. He’s already proven himself invaluable in strategic development.”

James had wanted to point out that Derek had started in strategic development immediately upon graduation, but something in his father’s tone warned him against arguing.

“How long do you expect this ... learning process to take?” James had asked carefully.

“As long as it takes. When you can tell me the profit margin on every product line, when you know the challenges facing each department, when our employees respect you for your knowledge rather than your surname—then we’ll discuss your future role.”

That had been three years ago. Three years of what Richard hadn’t mentioned was that his younger son, Derek, barely twenty-four, had begun directly in the strategic development department upon graduation, and in just two years had ascended to assistant vice president. While James counted pallets in warehouses and verified orders, Derek attended board meetings and dined with investors.

James adjusted his Italian silk tie and checked his vintage Patek Philippe, an inheritance from his grandfather. Five-thirty. The perfect time to slip away from the office unnoticed. Today was the day. After two years of courtship, he would finally propose to Victoria Ashford.

The taxi ride to Tiffany & Co. on Fifth Avenue felt eternal. James had spent weeks researching, consulting with gemologists and designers until he found the perfect piece. The ring would cost him nearly every penny of his trust fund allowance—money that came not from his meager logistics salary, but from the inheritance his grandfather had specifically set aside for each grandchild. Richard Newhouse II had been more generous than his son, establishing trust funds that provided each grandchild with a substantial monthly allowance regardless of their employment status. It was old money thinking: a gentleman should never be dependent solely on salary, no matter how noble the work.

James had carefully saved most of his trust payments over the past two years, living primarily on his logistics department salary and setting aside the inheritance money for something truly meaningful. Victoria was that meaning. She represented everything he valued: refinement, intelligence, shared values, a future built on solid foundations rather than mere passion.

His heart raced as the jeweler presented the blue velvet box.

“The ring you commissioned, Mr. Newhouse,” the elderly man said with reverence. “Three-carat solitaire diamond, princess cut, VVS1 clarity, D color. Set in platinum with micro-pavé diamonds along the band. A truly exceptional piece.”

James held the small box, feeling its weight. Inside rested a ring that had cost more than most people’s annual salary: a central diamond that captured and refracted light like a star, surrounded by smaller diamonds that created a river of fire around the band. It was elegant, classic, eternal. Exactly as he hoped his marriage to Victoria would be.

“It’s perfect,” James murmured, imagining the expression of surprise and joy on Victoria’s face when he offered it to her.

During the journey to Victoria’s Upper East Side apartment, James mentally rehearsed his words. He had prepared a speech about true love, about building a future together, about the shared values that united them. Victoria came from a respectable Boston family, they had studied together at Harvard, shared the same social circle. She was the perfect choice for a man of his position.