Page 180 of The Silver Fox Brother

Tomorrow morning, I finally fly back to New York.

I set down the glass and reach for the newspaper sitting on the desk. The New York Times. I picked it up in the hotel lobby earlier but haven't had time to read it. I flip through the first few sections. Business news. Politics. International affairs. Then I get to Page Six. I stop. The headline reads:

"Sterling Dynasty Heir Proposes to Interior Designer Girlfriend"

Below it is a photo; Rowan on one knee. Ring box open. Winter standing in front of him in a navy dress, her face visible in the shot. She doesn't look angry. She doesn't look upset. She just looks... there. I stare at the photo, my chest tightening.

The article is short. Just a few lines about Rowan Sterling, heir to Sterling Commercial, proposing to his girlfriend Winter Hayes at a charity gala on the Upper East Side. It mentions her design firm, notes that she's worked on several high-profile projects, and ends with speculation about a potential wedding date.

I read it twice. Then I set the paper down and drain the rest of my scotch. I feel gutted. Angry. Seething with rage at this image in front of me. The headline calling her his girlfriend. The fact that he did this publicly, dramatically, the way Rowan does everything. But more than that, I feel something I haven't felt in years: Heartbroken.

I stand and walk to the window, staring out at the Boston skyline.Did she say yes?The article doesn't say. It just says he proposed. But the photo tells a story. And in that story, Winter is standing there while my brother kneels in front of her with a ring.

My phone rings on the desk behind me. I turn and look at the screen:Fletcher.

I answer. "Yeah."

"Hey, just got off the phone with the legal team. They said things are moving in the right direction with the contractor's family. Thought I'd check in and see how you're holding up."

"I'm fine."

Fletcher pauses.

"You sound like shit. And I know this whole situation is stressful, but it can't just be that. What else is going on?"

I look back at the newspaper on the desk. At Rowan's face. At Winter's.

"I'm looking at a picture of my brother proposing to Winter," I say flatly.

"Oh, shit." Fletcher's voice shifts.

"Are you serious? That's crazy. I thought they broke up. And I thought you two were getting into something."

I don't respond.

"Knox, I can hear it in your voice," Fletcher continues.

"Have you talked to her?"

"No. Not since we got back from Naples. I had to rush up here and I haven't had a chance. I haven't even been in the office."

"You should talk to her. Call her. See what it's about." Fletcher pauses.

"I know Rowan came to your office before you left. You said he didn't know that you guys were together."

"We're not technically together," I say.

"You know what I mean, man."

I pour another glass of scotch and take a drink.

Fletcher is quiet for a moment. Then he asks, "Knox, are you in love with her? Because this doesn't sound like the Knox I know. I don't remember you ever lamenting like this over a woman. I can hear it in your voice."

I go still. The question hangs in the air between us.

I try to deflect. "I'm fine. I have a lot of shit to handle right now."

"You're not fine," Fletcher says firmly.