Chapter 1

Three years ago, I told my amnesiac wife, Erica Dixon, we should break up.

She nodded coldly, like she was brushing off a beggar.

I thought that was the end of our story.

I went to South Priland to watch the great migration, to Onario to chase the northern lights. In the end, I settled down in a snowy mountain town in Arioland and bought a small café, planning to spend the rest of my life there.

I didn't expect three years after our breakup, my name would show up on international headlines right next to a global wanted notice.

Erica, the woman who controlled a trillion-dollar empire, had mobilized every intelligence network and resource at her disposal, all to find me.

That day, a helicopter landed outside my café. The cabin door opened, and Erica stepped out in a red dress, walking toward me through the swirling snow. Behind her stood the world's top mercenaries.

Her eyes were rimmed red, but her voice was as commanding as ever.

She said, "Samuel, this game of hide-and-seek is over."

*****

The coffee beans crackled softly in the roaster, their aroma filling the whole café.

I slowly wiped the bar with a soft cloth, glancing out the window at the snowy line of the mountains.

Time stood still here.

After three years, I'd grown used to this quiet and came to love it.

My name was Samuel Crawford, and I was the owner of this café nestled in the snowy mountains.

Folks of this town figured I was some regular guy who came to get away from the city noise. Nobody knew a thing about my past.

"Sam, my usual hot cocoa, with extra marshmallows, just like always," John Fischer, a regular, called out as he stepped inside, bringing a rush of cold air with him.

I smiled and nodded, then turned to start making it.

Just then, the international news on the TV hanging on the wall suddenly cut to a breaking story.

"Breaking news: Erica Dixon, CEO of Globalite Group, has launched a personal search across the globe today," the anchor announced, her voice ringing out clearly.

My hand froze.

"Ms. Dixon is offering a reward of 100 million dollars for information leading to the whereabouts of her ex-husband, Samuel Crawford. Anyone who provides useful information will receive a reward of at least 1 million dollars," the anchor continued.

Then, my photo appeared on the screen.

It was a candid shot she'd taken of me three years ago, back when we were still together.

In the photo, I was looking at her, my eyes filled with a tenderness I'd almost forgotten.

Bang! John's pipe hit the floor.

His cloudy eyes flicked between my face and the TV screen, his jaw practically hitting the floor.

"S-Sam, is that you?" he stammered.

The café went dead silent.

Every customer's eyes were fixed on me, like I was under a spotlight.

I tried to force a smile, but my muscles were stiff as stone.

So, she came after me in the end.

Had she remembered everything?

I didn't answer John. Wordlessly, I slid the hot cocoa across the counter to him.

"Your cocoa," I said.

My voice was dead calm, flat as a pond.

No one else could tell that my heart was thundering in my chest.

Outside, the wind and snow were suddenly raging. I hadn't even noticed when it started.

A deafening roar rolled in, like a giant steel beast, shattering the town's peace.

I looked up.

A black helicopter was hovering above the café, its rotors sending the snow on the ground swirling into the air.

The customers cried out and dove under the tables.

Meanwhile, I stood my ground, watching the helicopter.

I knew she was here.

She came for me.

The helicopter slowly landed in the clearing right outside the café.

The door swung open.

The first thing to set foot on the untouched snow was a red high heel.

Then, a woman in a blazing red dress appeared through the swirling snow.

It was Erica.

She strode forward in a tailored red dress, a black coat thrown over her shoulders, her long hair flying wild in the wind.

Three years apart, and she was even more icy and commanding than I remembered. And more powerful, too.

Her eyes, which once reflected only me, were now sharp as blades, slicing through the storm and pinning me right where I stood.

Behind her, two lines of men in black tactical gear marched forward, each one radiating a cold, lethal vibe that made the air feel dangerous.

I recognized them as the world-class mercenaries, the Spiritfarers.

Erica really wasn't messing around.

I put down the rag and walked out slowly from behind the bar.

The customers were frozen in place, barely daring to breathe. They huddled in the corners, wide-eyed and terrified, watching the scene unfold like something out of a blockbuster.

I opened the door, letting the icy wind and swirling snow sweep into the cozy café without resistance.

We stood ten yards apart, locking eyes across the snowy distance.

The wind and snow veiled her face, but nothing could hide the tangled emotions burning in her gaze.

There was hatred, resentment, bitterness... and a hint of pain so raw I couldn't bear to face it.