Chapter 1

In my past life, Grant forced an uncontested divorce on me just to welcome his first love, Daphne, back to Austin from London.

He needed to maintain his pristine image as a devoted, perfect man.

When I refused, he falsified documents for an involuntary psychiatric hold, threatening to lock me away in a behavioral health center.

All because of a childhood pact he made with the girl he grew up with—a promise to wait for each other until they turned thirty.

I was eventually tortured to death inside that facility.

But what I never expected was that Daphne would hold my emaciated, skeletal body, sobbing until she couldn't breathe, apologizing to me over and over again.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day Grant was sending me to the psychiatric facility.

"Wait! I'll sign it. I agree to the divorce."

The shock of my own rebirth slammed into me, but I didn't have time to process it. I lunged forward, shouting at Grant, who was already barking at the driver to speed up toward the behavioral health center.

He didn't say a word. He acted like he hadn't even heard me.

My stomach bottomed out. I raised my voice, the panic bleeding through.

"Grant, the divorce. I'll sign the papers. Just don't send me there. Please."

Grant finally lowered his eyes, tossing me a glance like he was handing out charity.

"Too late, Mara." He dragged out the words with a soft chuckle, like he was coaxing a toddler throwing a tantrum.

His tone was perfectly gentle.

But it froze the blood in my veins.

It was colder than the electroshock therapy beds at that facility in my past life.

I sat there, paralyzed, fighting through the ice in my chest until I found my voice again. I kept pushing.

"I won't go near Daphne. I won't tell her a single thing about us."

Grant's head snapped toward me. His eyes went hard.

"Us? What relationship do we have?"

"Remember this, Mara. You are nothing but my live-in housekeeper of three years."

"You made a mistake yesterday, so I demoted you to the back-of-house staff. You are no longer permitted to be an eyesore in the main estate."

Live-in housekeeper?

I lowered my head and let out a broken laugh.

What kind of live-in housekeeper was worth Grant driving two hours through a torrential downpour just to sit by my hospital bed when I had a severe asthma attack?

What kind of live-in housekeeper made him go to war with the entire Mercer family just to marry her?

"You think Daphne's actually going to buy that?"

I refused to believe Grant was cold-blooded enough to watch me die a gruesome death. But the weight of my past life was still crushing my chest. I could not let myself be dragged back into that hellhole.

Grant fell silent.

I seized his hesitation and pressed the advantage. "I can help you."

He clearly hadn't expected that.

After a brief flash of surprise, his expression smoothed out into knowing arrogance, as if he had seen right through my pathetic little scheme.

"Stop playing games."

His voice was like ice. A complete stranger.

It was impossible to reconcile this man with the gentle husband I once knew.

I took a sharp breath, swallowing the lump in my throat, and rubbed the ring on my left hand.

He had bought it for me with his very first paycheck after breaking away from his family to start his own business. He had spun me around in his arms, giddy as a kid, promising to make me the happiest woman in the world.

Now, he was ready to throw me into a nightmare without blinking, all for Daphne.

Love was something I had never truly understood.

But I understood Grant.

"Grant, Daphne isn't stupid. As long as our marriage record exists, she's going to find out, no matter how well you hide me."

"The best move is an uncontested divorce."

"After it's finalized, I stay at the estate. I play the part of the live-in housekeeper and help you cover up the lie. Deal?"

Grant's head jerked up. A calculating light flickered in his eyes.

"You're actually willing to pose as the help?"

I met his suspicious glare and gave two firm, heavy nods.

He still didn't trust me. The car kept speeding toward the psychiatric facility.

Just as despair began to choke me, Grant, who had his eyes closed the entire time, finally spoke.

"Turn the car around. Head to the lawyer's office. Let's get the final papers signed."

Relief washed over me. I frantically wiped the cold sweat from my face and rushed to prove my loyalty. "Don't worry. I'll do my job perfectly. I won't let a single detail slip."

Grant let out a soft scoff. He reached over, took my hand, and slowly slid the ring off my finger.

"I'll hold onto this for now."

"You get it back once Daphne leaves Austin."

The ring I had worn for three years was gone, leaving behind nothing but a pale, indented band of skin.

Suddenly, I couldn't remember why the past version of me had fought so hard against the divorce. Why I had refused to leave this man.