Chapter 1

"Ethan, I'm scared of fire..."

Zara curled into Ethan's arms, trembling.

I stared at the back of my own hand --- skin split and raw from the scalding soup --- and heard only his cold, flat voice.

"Claire, you knew Zara was terrified of fire. Why the hell did you light candles? You just can't stand to see her happy, can you?"

Three years of marriage. Because of his fallen comrade, I had become the villain of our own story.

My passion, my company, even my child --- all became bargaining chips for his debt of gratitude.

Until the truth came out.

The fragile little sister he'd shielded with his life was the real killer all along.

Later, Ethan knelt in the pouring rain, begging me to come back.

I smiled.

"Ethan, trash belongs in the trash can."

"I don't make a habit of picking it back up."

The blisters on the back of my hand had merged into one angry patch of red, swollen flesh --- like overcooked meat left too long on the stove.

The pain sent tremors through my whole body. I bit down hard on my lower lip just to keep from crying out.

And my husband, Ethan Cole, was busy holding tight to the one responsible for knocking that scalding pot of soup all over me --- Zara White.

"Ethan," Zara whimpered, face buried against his chest, shaking like a frightened fawn, tears rolling down in streams. "Fire... there's fire. I'm so scared. Is my brother in the fire...?"

Ethan's eyes were full of tenderness. His large hands moved slowly up and down her back, his voice so soft it could melt. "It's okay. You're okay, Zara. The fire's out. I'm right here. I've got you."

Once she was calm, he turned to look at me --- and his expression went cold as stone.

"Claire, have you lost your mind? You knew she was terrified of fire, and you still lit candles? What is wrong with you? Are you trying to push her over the edge?"

I looked at the mess scattered across the floor.

Today was our third wedding anniversary.

I had cleared my entire schedule --- cancelled every executive meeting --- and gone to the market myself to pick out the freshest ingredients. I'd spent four hours in the kitchen coaxing out his favorite mushroom and seafood broth.

I lit the pair of vintage silver candlesticks he'd bid on for me at an auction years ago.

I wanted to give him something special.

Instead of a surprise, I got Zara's scream and a pot of boiling soup straight to the hand.

"Ethan, today is our third anniversary." I forced the words out through the searing pain, my voice rough. "I just wanted to have dinner with you."

"You need all this for a simple dinner?" Ethan cut me off without mercy, disgust plain in his eyes. "Zara's brother died in a fire saving my life. She can't handle anything that reminds her of it. You're my wife --- can't you show even a little compassion?"

Compassion.

The word dragged across my chest like a dull blade.

Zara's brother, Daniel White, had been Ethan's fire captain. Three years ago, during a warehouse blaze, Daniel ran back in to pull Ethan out and never made it. After Ethan left the service, he took over his family's business, and together we built Vela Jewelry from the ground up.

Six months ago, he tracked down Zara, who had been drifting on her own.

"Claire," he said, "Daniel died because of me. Zara developed severe depression after the fire --- she's terrified of flames now. I have to take care of her. For the rest of my life."

I said yes.

I brought her into our downtown apartment, found her the best therapist in the city, and treated her like my own sister.

But every step I gave, she took two more.

She'd knock on our bedroom door at midnight in a slip dress, saying she was scared, insisting Ethan sleep in the guest room with her.

She'd ruin my late-night jewelry sketches and then cry, claiming she hadn't meant to --- she said the lines made her dizzy.

During what little time Ethan and I had alone, she'd have an episode on cue --- cutting herself or refusing to eat.

And every single time, Ethan would drop everything and run to her.

"Ethan, don't be mad at Claire. It's my fault. I'm the problem --- I can't even handle one little candle..." Zara tugged at his sleeve, crying prettily, but her eyes slipped past his shoulder and landed on me --- sharp and provocative.

In that moment, I felt a bone-deep exhaustion settle over me.

"Fine. If fire scares her that much, I won't light anything in this house again." I stood, walked straight toward the door without looking at either of them.

"Where are you going?" Ethan frowned.

"The hospital." I held up my ruined right hand. "Ethan, I'm a jewelry designer. If my hand is out of commission, who's going to deliver next season's collection --- Zara?"

He hesitated. His eyes dropped to my swollen, blistered hand, and something flickered behind them.

He let go of Zara and moved toward me. "I'll take you."

"Don't bother." I stepped back from his outstretched hand. "Stay here and look after your precious little sister. We wouldn't want her getting startled by thin air."

I pushed open the front door and walked out into the early autumn chill.

Just before it clicked shut, I heard Zara's soft, plaintive voice behind me.

"Ethan, is Claire upset with me? Maybe I should move out..."

He didn't answer. But I already knew --- he'd find a way to make her stay.

Because in this house, obligation always outweighed love.