Chapter 1

My husband, Cole, and I had been together for seven years.

He was a penniless orphan, and I was the sole heiress to the Franklin empire.

I fought my entire family to marry him, and today, I finally did.

The wedding was grand and perfect. He looked at me with the same deep, adoring eyes he always had.

But late that night, in our brand-new bridal suite, I found a leather-bound journal he had accidentally left behind.

Inside, he had documented everything. From our very first day in college, he had meticulously planned every single encounter, every conversation, and every milestone of our relationship. It was a perfectly calculated trap.

The very last entry was dated yesterday.

"Antoinette finally took the bait. Once the wedding is over tomorrow, everything the Franklins own will be mine."

Our wedding was incredibly lavish. My father spared no expense.

Cole, the man I had loved for seven years, was now my husband.

He grew up as an orphan, so my family covered every single wedding expense. My father didn't mind at all. He just wanted me to be happy.

Throughout the ceremony, Cole was incredibly attentive. The way he looked at me was filled with pure adoration.

I believed his love was real.

Seven years of history couldn't possibly be a lie.

All the guests were whispering about how lucky we were, calling us a match made in heaven.

And I believed them.

Until late that night, after the last guest had left.

I sat on our bed, which was covered in red rose petals, anxiously waiting for Cole to return. He had gone to see off our last few friends and told me to head up and rest first.

Our master bedroom was huge, decorated in warm, romantic lights.

That was when I noticed a black, hardbound journal lying on the carpet near the nightstand.

I recognized it instantly. It was Cole’s diary.

He had always mentioned his habit of journaling, but I had never read it. He told me it was just boring, day-to-day stuff. I wanted to respect his privacy, so I never pried.

But tonight, for some inexplicable reason, I picked it up.

It wasn't locked. I opened it easily.

The first page was dated seven years ago—September 1st, our very first day of college.

The handwriting was definitely Cole's.

But the words felt like they belonged to a total stranger.

"Antoinette Franklin. The sole heiress to the Franklin Group."

"My target starts today. I will make her fall in love with me."

My heart instantly dropped.

Refusing to believe it, I kept flipping the pages.

September 15:

"Bumped into her at the library today. A perfect accident. She is exactly like the files said—sweet, innocent, and a little naive."

"Step one: success."

October 3:

"She agreed to be my girlfriend. Everything is going exactly according to plan."

"She has these pure, doe-like eyes. Sometimes when she looks at me, I almost fool myself into thinking this is real love."

December 24:

"Christmas Eve. She told me she loves me."

"Phase two: complete. Up next: long-term companionship and deep integration into her life."

I flipped through page after page. It felt like I was reading a horror story about my own life.

Cole and I were the main characters, but the tone was as cold and calculated as a corporate takeover. Every date, every fight, every makeup session was listed as a milestone, followed by a post-event analysis and the next step of his strategy.

My hands began to shake violently.

Our seven-year romance was nothing but a highly engineered scam.

I was the idiot playing her part in his script.

I reached the very last page. The entry was from yesterday.

"Seven years. This show is finally coming to an end."

"Antoinette finally took the bait. Once the wedding is over tomorrow, everything the Franklins own will be mine."

"Father, your vengeance is at hand. I am about to reclaim what is ours."

My brain went entirely numb.

Tears streamed down my face, but I didn't feel sad. I just felt cold—an icy, bone-chilling numbness that spread from my chest to my fingertips.

Right then, the bedroom door clicked open.

Cole walked in with his signature warm, gentle smile.

When he saw me sitting on the floor with his journal in my hands, his smile froze for a fraction of a second.

But he recovered almost instantly.

He walked over, kneeling beside me, and reached out to pull me up.

"Why are you sitting on the floor, sweetheart? It’s cold."

His voice was still so soft, so familiar.

I looked up at him.

This face, which I had loved for seven years, now looked completely foreign and terrifying.

I held up the journal right in front of his face.

"What is this?" My voice was so raspy I barely recognized it.

Cole's eyes changed.

The warmth and tenderness vanished. In their place was a cold, calculating gaze, mixed with a hint of annoyance at being caught.

He stood up, looking down at me coldly.

"Well, since you've read it, I guess there's no point in playing pretend anymore."

He admitted it. Just like that, without a single shred of hesitation.

My entire world shattered into pieces.

"Why?" I squeezed out the question with every ounce of strength I had left.

"Why?" He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "You should ask your dear father. Ask him what he did to the Miller family twenty years ago."

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.

Through the rising smoke, his face looked incredibly cruel.

"Toni, I wanted to give you some dignity."

"If you had just played the part of a happy housewife and handed the company over to me, I would have made sure you were taken care of for the rest of your life."

"But you had to be stupid and dig this up."

He pointed his cigarette at the journal in my hands. "Now, the game is over."