Across Five Aprils Full Text

I gave Julian Marchetti thirty years of my life after the war ended. I built his empire, raised his children, and held the family together behind the scenes. But when he died, his will didn’t even mention my name. Half his fortune went to our children. The other half went to Lydia Carter, the daughter of the man who’d saved his life in Normandy. The same Lydia who’d stolen my identity.The same Lydia who’d built her entire life on the ruins of mine. All he left me was a single note, scrawled in his familiar handwriting. I loved you. We had thirty good years. But I owe Lydia. This is the least I can do. I dropped dead of a heart attack right there in his study, clutching that pathetic piece of paper. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn in 1945, when the war had just ended This time I will not swallow my anger and suffer in silence; I will fight back. And I will take back every single thing that is rightfully mine.

After the Ferguson family went bankrupt, I gave up everything I had and followed Ethan Ferguson to Stormbay. Five years later, he had fought his way back into the top three on the Forbes rich list. He rebuilt the empire everyone believed he had lost for good. He never mentioned marriage, no matter how much we had been through together. I did not understand the reason until the night before Memorial Day. I woke after midnight and saw Ethan standing alone on the terrace of our beachfront house. The cold ocean wind swept through the darkness while he lit three white candles one by one. Their flames flickered softly against the night. He faced the distant horizon across the sea and lowered his voice. “Mom, Dad… I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you again this year.” He paused, and his expression softened. “However, please keep watching over Vivi. Keep her healthy… and bless the two of us with a long, happy life together.” Warmth spread through my chest as I listened. My health had never been good, and every year near Memorial Day, Ethan refused to let me exhaust myself with the long trip home. He always went alone to visit his parents’ graves while I stayed behind in Stormbay. This year, when I saw the homesickness in his eyes, I decided to surprise him. I wanted to make the trip in his place. I never expected my entire world to collapse the moment I arrived at the cemetery. Ethan’s name was carved into the headstone. Beside it was the name of another woman. Olivia Ferguson. My gaze drifted lower. A framed family photograph sat at the foot of the headstone. Its edges had curled from the ocean wind. In the picture, Ethan held a little blond-haired boy in his arms. The child looked no older than three. Olivia stood beside him, smiling softly at the camera. A sharp pain cut through my chest. Only then did I understand the truth. The “Vivi” Ethan prayed for was never Vivian. It had been Olivia all along.

Ava St. James has walked down the aisle four times—and buried every “forever” along the way. At seventy, she’s traded vows for vintage champagne and decided love looks best from a distance. Then along comes Marcus du Prée—handsome, grounded, and far too young to be interested. A gardener, he says. Except the roses he tends belong to his estate, and the dirt under his nails hides a fortune he’d rather forget. When Ava’s flamboyant New Orleans clan crashes into Marcus’s refined Pasadena world, sparks fly, secrets bloom, and one improbable romance dares to take root. For the Fifth Vow is a sparkling romantic comedy about late love, Southern pride, and the kind of courage it takes to say “I do” when everyone else says you shouldn’t. Witty, wise, and full of heart, it reminds us that some vows aren’t meant to end—they’re just waiting for the right season to begin.

When I was five, Mom and Dad took my little brother to the city for kindergarten and left me in a mountain village with my grandfather, who had dementia. Before they left, Dad told me to take care of Grandpa, watch the house, and protect the yard. Mom said I was the older brother, so I had to be sensible. They said that once they made enough money, they'd bring me to the city too. I didn't want to let go. I clung to Mom's leg and begged through tears, "Mom, please. I don't want to be separated from you." My tears and snot smeared across her expensive dress. She scolded me for being difficult, slapped my bottom until it swelled, and struck my face hard enough to break the skin. In the end, they didn't soften. They left and never came back. Three months later, when I was close to starving, I called Mom and begged her to send me something to eat. She snapped, irritated, "A boy who talks about being hungry every day? Why don't you just starve, then? How can there be nothing to eat in the countryside? "Your father and I are under so much pressure in the city. Can't you be sensible for once?" Her words came true. That winter, I starved to death. Five years later, Mom pushed open the rotten door. "Miles," she called. "Mom's back."

There were two famous deadweights in Kingsgate's high society. One was me, Millie Tanner, the pampered little princess whose only talents were shopping and throwing parties. The other was my childhood friend, Iver Langford, the fragile young heir born with autism and congenital heart failure. However, my older brother was the most feared name in the underworld, and my second brother was the richest man in the country. Iver's older sister was the undefeated queen of the courtroom, and his second sister was a surgeon whose hands could bring back the dead. One day, the four of them were chatting over a game of poker. "Raising one hopeless case takes the same effort as two. Might as well pair them off." Just like that, Iver and I signed the marriage papers. Our married life consisted of maxing out my second brother's credit cards, raiding my older brother's dinner table, and waiting for his sisters to show up with care packages. That was the routine, until my older brother sent us to attend a banquet at the Crestport tycoon's estate in his place. At the banquet, the tycoon's daughter, Portia Beaumont, waved around a blurry photo taken from behind and insisted I was the other woman who had stolen her boyfriend. I kept my temper. "You have the wrong person. I'm married, and this is my husband." Portia lost it on the spot and swung at me. "Married and still out here throwing yourself at men?" Iver stepped in front of me on instinct and took the slap meant for me. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. She sneered, "Oh, is he slow? His wife's out cheating and he can't even tell, but he still jumps in to protect her? One's a tramp, and the other's an idiot. The perfect match!" She flicked her wrist, and several bodyguards lunged toward us. "Get them both." My heart ached as I looked at Iver, and I dialed my older brother's number. "Someone's picking on me." These people had no idea. Crossing the four terrors of Kingsgate and living to tell about it was one thing. Messing with the two of us was something else entirely.

Mother used my life to threaten the system and force Father to return for a second time. But this time, Father was different. He no longer cared that Mother favored her childhood sweetheart, Adrian Voss. He did not even react when Undersecretary Adrian pretended to be frail and provoked him in front of her. When Mother begged for forgiveness, Father only calmly rolled up his sleeve and pressed a dagger to the scarred skin of his wrist. "Tell me. How much blood do you need this time?" Mother's face tightened with pain. Her eyes went red. "Gideon, must you embarrass me like this? Can't our family be harmonious like before?" Father's gaze moved from Mother to Adrian, but he said nothing. His silence told her exactly who had caused his disappointment and pain again and again. Sure enough, Mother stiffened, then spoke in anger to hide her shame. "Adrian has only been in court for two years. Just because you failed the civil-service exams, are you so jealous that you'd watch him die?" "Gideon, he was my uncle's finest student. I can't stand by and let him die." "Don't worry. Once Adrian recovers, I won't make you bleed into his medicine again. After all, the person I love most is you." As soon as she said it, I crawled out from the corner and threw myself in front of Father. I wanted to beg him not to believe her. I wanted him to leave quickly, before Mother and Adrian could hurt him again. But Father tightened his hand around mine and smiled gently. "Don't be afraid, Eli. This time, I came back to take you home with me."