Chapter 1

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I was supposed to leave the country to present my breakthrough nerve-interface design at an international medical competition. Instead, I found myself standing in a cold government office with a document in my hands, staring at information that made absolutely no sense.

I read it again before looking up.

“Excuse me, but there has to be an error. I’m married. I’ve never been divorced.”

The woman behind the glass barely looked at me. She clicked through something on her computer with the bored expression of someone handling another routine file. To her, I was just another person waiting for paperwork. To me, she had just told me that my entire life was a lie.

I was married.

Vincent Ravelli was my husband.

He wasn't merely the man I had married. Vincent was everything to me. To the rest of the world, he was a monster, a king who ruled from the shadows, a man whose name people whispered because they were afraid of what might happen if he heard them speak it too loudly. He was a mafia boss with enough money and influence to make entire cities tremble.

And he was mine.

Vincent had never understood the meaning of letting go. If something belonged to him, he protected it with an almost frightening intensity. I was no different. Even if I had wanted to leave him, I knew he would never have simply stood aside and watched me walk away.

So how could I possibly be divorced?

The employee checked the record again, then went through it one more time. Finally, she looked at me as though I were the one being unreasonable.

“There’s nothing wrong with the record,” she said. “According to the documents, you and Mr. Ravelli divorced four years ago. He married someone else on that very same day.”

My heart seemed to stop.

“That’s impossible,” I said, though my voice had already begun to shake. “You must have the wrong person.”

She sighed. “His current wife is Sabrina Hale. Do you know her?”

The moment I heard that name, something inside me went completely still.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I know her.”

God, I knew Sabrina far too well.

Seven years ago, she had tried to ruin my wedding.

She had shown up screaming and crying, throwing herself at Vincent and demanding that he choose her instead of me. She had made such a scene that everyone in the room had turned to stare. Vincent hadn't even given her the satisfaction of a reaction. He simply looked toward his men and said, “Get her out of here. I don’t want that woman anywhere near me.”

Twenty bodyguards dragged Sabrina away while I stood frozen in my wedding dress, barely able to process what was happening.

Four years ago, she broke into Vincent’s office and took things even further. She stripped herself naked and climbed onto his desk, telling him she would do anything if he would accept her.

Vincent didn't even look at her.

He picked up the phone instead.

“Call the police. There’s a woman causing trouble in my office.”

Sabrina was arrested and spent fifty days in custody.

Five years ago…

My right hand began to ache at the memory, as though my body remembered that day before I consciously allowed myself to.

Sabrina had stormed into my office without warning. There had been no argument, no explanation, nothing that could have prepared me for what happened next. She pulled an axe from her bag and brought it down on my right hand before I even had time to react.

I screamed.

The pain was unbearable. There was blood everywhere, and for several terrifying moments, I thought I was going to die.

When Vincent found out, he lost control.

I had seen him angry before, but never like that. His eyes were bloodshot, his entire body trembling with rage, and the sight of him frightened me more than I wanted to admit.

“I’ll kill her,” he swore. “I’ll tear her apart myself, Amara. I’ll make her suffer for every bit of pain she caused you.”

Even while I was bleeding, I reached for him.

“Vincent, please don’t,” I begged. “Whatever you do, don’t kill her.”

He stared at me as though he couldn't understand why I would stop him after what she had done.

But he listened.

He always listened to me.

Instead of killing Sabrina, he had her locked away somewhere no one could find her. I never asked where. I didn't need to know. I only knew that Vincent made sure she paid for what she had done.

That was the man I knew.

Cruel when the world crossed him. Violent when someone threatened what belonged to him. Unforgiving to anyone who dared hurt the people he loved.

But never to me.

Never.

“Anyone who hurts you,” he had once told me while gently holding my face in his hands, “will regret ever touching you. I’ll make sure they suffer far worse than you did.”

So how could that same man have married Sabrina on the very day she destroyed my hand?

My phone vibrated.

I stared at the screen before opening the message.

[Amara, it’s our seventh anniversary. I’ll be home tonight. I’m still dealing with that crazy woman, but she won’t be a problem much longer. Don’t wait for me. I’ll wake you when I get home.]

Another message appeared moments later.

[I love you.]

My throat tightened.

He always said that.

He said it in messages, whispered it during calls, and showed it in the way he looked at me as though I were the only woman who existed.

I love you.

Once, I had been nobody.

I was a struggling surgeon barely managing to survive, while Vincent was everything I could never have imagined reaching. He was rich, powerful, feared, and completely beyond my world.

Yet somehow, he had chosen me.

He pursued me as though I were something precious. He flew across countries simply to spend a few hours with me. Once, he even bought out an entire street so he could arrange fireworks just for me. He sent flowers so rare that I couldn't even pronounce their names.

When I became sick, he abandoned whatever he was doing and flew home to take care of me himself. He tried to cook despite having no idea what he was doing, swearing at the utensils as though they had personally offended him.

“Eat,” he would grumble as he pushed a bowl toward me. “I didn’t fly ten hours just to watch you starve.”

Whenever I was upset, Vincent would stop meetings with men who had enough power to ruin lives with a single order.

“Give me a minute,” he'd tell them before calling me.

“What happened?” he would demand the moment I answered. “Who upset you? Tell me who it was, and I’ll deal with them.”

When someone once threw acid at me out of jealousy, Vincent didn't hesitate to step in front of me.

He took the hit meant for me.

The acid burned across his back, and blood stained his clothes, yet all he cared about was whether I was crying.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he whispered as he held me. “I’m right here. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

How could I reconcile that man with the husband who had supposedly divorced me four years ago?

Had all of it been an elaborate lie?

Had I imagined the love, the devotion, and every moment when Vincent made me believe I was the most important person in his world?

Was I really that stupid?

I didn't even realize I'd already stepped into a taxi until the driver spoke.

“Where are you headed, ma’am?”

I hesitated, my mind racing through everything I had just learned.

Then I gave him the only destination that mattered.

“Sun Valley.”

That was where Vincent had kept Sabrina.

The woman who had tried to destroy my wedding. The woman who had attacked me. The woman Vincent had supposedly hated enough to lock away.

The woman who was now, according to an official government record, his wife.

My hands tightened in my lap as the taxi pulled away from the building.

If Sabrina Hale was Vincent Ravelli’s wife…

Then who the hell was I?