Chapter 1

My husband Nicholas was a gifted magician, yet he never allowed me to attend his live performances.

This time, however, he invited me to be his stage partner.

Overjoyed, I agreed. But during the act, a machine malfunctioned, and my hand was crushed by a metal block, leaving it a bloody mess.

Panicked, Nicholas called off the act and rushed me to the hospital.

Floating in a haze of pain and sedation, I caught fragments of his conversation with his assistant.

"Mr. Flores, the doctor said this is your wife's only chance. If she skips treatment, the damage will be permanent."

"She has to lose the use of that hand. It's the only way Melanie can win first place. Even if Melanie can’t be my wife, I will clear every obstacle in her path and make sure the world sees her."

"Even if Melanie cannot be my wife, I will clear every obstacle for her, ensuring she becomes the center of attention."

My heart turned completely cold.

So, all his so-called love for me was just a stepping stone for his half-sister’s success.

I decided then to walk away and leave them to it.

*****

"Go tell the doctor that if Brielle's tendons aren't completely severed, they should cut them. When she wakes up, tell her the hands are permanently unusable and she can no longer participate in the competition."

The assistant said, "Sir, her hands are already severely injured. She definitely can't win the competition now. You could easily secure the win for Miss Curtis by paying off the judges. Why go this far?"

"She must be permanently disabled. With her talent, even the slightest chance of recovery would block Melanie's path to success."

Nicholas's hands were still wiping the blood from my body, but the words he spoke were chillingly cold.

"I cannot defy convention to marry Melanie, but I will give her the very best. Once Brielle is completely finished, I will give all her work to Melanie. No one remembers the runner-up. Only when the number one is gone can Melanie finally receive what she deserves."

Melanie was Nicholas's half-sister.

I had known Nicholas for five years and been married to him for three, yet I never detected the hidden feelings in his heart.

The assistant sighed and went out to call the doctor.

I could feel myself being wheeled out of the room.

Fear and despair threatened to drown me. I struggled to open my eyes, trying to call for help.

But the hospital corridor was empty.

Nicholas leaned down and kissed me, silencing my words. "Don't be afraid, Brielle. Everything will be fine after the surgery."

Just before being wheeled into the operating room, I saw the same gentle expression frozen on Nicholas's face.

He used to wear that same expression while holding me, applying hand cream.

"My wife is going to be a top designer someday. How can hands meant for drawing do chores or carry bags?"

My consciousness grew increasingly hazy. Before the operating room doors closed completely, I heard Nicholas instruct his assistant.

"Make it clean. Get rid of all the tampered tools."

"Don't worry, sir. The payment has been made to the staff member responsible for the equipment. He's leaving tomorrow. No one will ever know the accident was arranged by us."

So the surprise I thought it was, had been a carefully laid trap all along.

*****

When I woke again, it was deep into the night.

Only one woman sat by my bedside; Nicholas was nowhere to be found.

"Hello, Miss Sanders. My name is Maria. Mr. Flores hired me to care for you. He's gone to contact specialists overseas.

"Mr. Flores said your hands are in critical condition, and he will try every possible means to save them."

A look of admiration crossed Maria's face. "Mr. Flores is so good to you."

Nicholas desperately wanted my hands ruined; why would he be urgently seeking specialists?

Maria handed me my phone.

"Miss Sanders, you received messages while you were asleep."

It was from Melanie.

[Brielle, the finals are coming up, and I'm so nervous. I'm having Nicholas come stay with me for a bit. You don't mind, do?]

It was a statement, not a request.

At my instruction, Maria opened the social media feed.

Sure enough, just twenty minutes after I entered surgery, Nicholas had rushed to Melanie's side.

Melanie had posted an update.

[Even if someone tries to stand in our way, he will always find his way to me in time.]

The post was accompanied by a picture of two pairs of hands.

Nicholas was applying hand cream for her, with a cake sitting nearby.

Today was Melanie's birthday.

I fought back the nausea rising in my throat.

"Maria, please buy me a plane ticket abroad."