Chapter 2

Three years ago, on the rooftop of a private hospital. The wind cut like blades through the late-night air.

"Jump, Vivian." Alexander's grip on my hand was tight enough to bruise, but his eyes held a cold, hollow gleam.

"It's for show," he said, his voice rough, like he was trying to convince himself as much as me. "If you jump and fake your death, my grandfather will stop pushing for a divorce, and he'll finally let me marry Claire."

I stared at him, feeling nothing but disbelief. "Alexander, have you lost your mind? This is the thirtieth floor."

"I know." His eyes went bloodshot. "The fire department set up an air cushion down there. It's safe. The ambulance is waiting. Nothing will happen to you, I swear."

He dragged me to the edge. Night wind whipped through my dress, raising goosebumps.

Tonight was our third wedding anniversary. Instead of celebrating, he'd pulled me straight from our party to this rooftop.

Because Claire, his fragile, eternally ill first love, had conveniently landed in critical condition at this very hospital.

And Alexander's grandfather, Jensen Grant, was holding the entire Grant Group's inheritance over his head, forcing Alexander to either divorce me for someone "appropriate" or watch Claire die from lack of treatment funds.

So my brilliant husband devised the perfect solution. He wanted me dead.

A dead wife couldn't divorce him. A dead wife wouldn't block him from finally claiming his true love.

"Why me?" My voice cracked. "Alexander, I'm your wife."

"Exactly! You're my wife. You're supposed to help me." His grip on my shoulders felt like it would leave bruises. "Vivian, I love you. That never changed. But Claire is dying. She waited ten years for me. I can't fail her now."

"So you'll fail me instead?" I nearly screamed.

"I am not!" His twisted logic wrapped around itself like a snake. "It's a strategy. All I need is three years. Once I control Grant Group, I'll tell everyone the truth and bring you back. We'll all live together like a real family."

"A real family?" I picked up on that word right away.

He looked away, avoiding my gaze.

Suddenly, I understood. Claire was pregnant.

My heart crumpled like paper in an invisible fist. The pain was so sharp I couldn't breathe.

So when he said he couldn't fail her, he meant he couldn't fail the child growing inside her.

I studied the man before me. He was handsome, tender, and as if a devil tempting me straight into hell.

I'd known him for ten years, loved him for ten years, and been married to him for three.

I thought I'd married for love, but in the end, I was an armor he used to protect his true love.

Now that armor had a new purpose, making room for the real thing.

"Alexander." My voice went strange and calm, wind drying the tears on my cheeks. "If I die, will you miss me?"

He froze, then pulled me into his arms, holding tight.

"Every day." His voice cracked, thick with something almost like tears. "Vivian, I'll miss you every single day. I'll commission your headstone, visit every year, tell you over and over how much I love you."

"Okay," I whispered.

I slipped from his embrace and gave him one last look. Then I spread my arms like wings of a broken butterfly and fell backward.

My body plummeted. Wind screamed past my ears like every lost soul in the world.

I glimpsed Alexander at the rooftop's edge, his handsome face frozen in terror and relief.

Yeah. Relief.

I closed my eyes. You were lying, Alexander. You wouldn't miss me.

You would be glad I was finally gone.

*****

I woke on a smuggler's ship. The stench of engine oil and disinfectant burned my nostrils, sharp enough to split my head open.

Across from me sat a man in gold-rimmed glasses, who looked polished but villainous. He was wiping a scalpel, slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world.

"Awake?" He lifted an eyelid, his gaze behind those glasses cold and snakelike. "Congratulations, Ms. Sterling. As far as the law's concerned, you're already dead."

"Who are you?" My throat felt like sandpaper.

"A businessman." He pocketed the scalpel and slid a document toward me. "Your husband, Mr. Alexander Grant, traded five percent of Grant Group shares to ensure your death stayed spotless. No loose ends."

"And me." His smile held nothing warm. "I bought those shares and the right to do whatever I want with you.

"I'm Nathan Blackwood. From now on, you're my most valuable asset."

That was when it hit me. Alexander didn't simply want me gone temporarily. He wanted me erased permanently.

He'd cashed me in to save Claire. Then handed me, with his own hands, straight to another devil.