Chapter 1

On our third wedding anniversary, Adrian Graves didn't hand me a diamond ring. Instead, he slid a Divorce Agreement across the table.

He'd marked a date on it in dark red ink, exactly seven days from today.

"Lena, just seven more days. Play your part, and you'll walk away with everything the Graves family owns," Adrian said coldly. The faint ticking of his ever-present black sports watch echoed the countdown, barely audible but impossible to ignore.

The restaurant's air conditioning was turned up so high that it felt like tiny ice daggers piercing every pore of my skin.

I stared at the Divorce Agreement, my fingers pressed hard against the edge of the paper until my fingertips turned an unnatural pale.

Adrian sat across from me, his suit perfectly tailored and not a wrinkle in sight. He methodically cut into his rare steak, the silver fork and knife scraping against the porcelain plate with a harsh, grating sound that felt like it was grating on my nerves.

"Sign it," Adrian said, not even bothering to look up, his voice cold and emotionless. "For the next seven days, just pretend to be Mrs. Graves, like always. At midnight on the seventh day, the lawyer will email you the transfer papers."

My throat was parched. Three years of a hidden marriage, and all Adrian ever gave me was endless emotional neglect and now this, this humiliating breakup payout that felt like a cruel insult.

"Adrian, do you really hate me that much?" My voice trembled, laced with the sound of tears.

He finally paused, lifting his gaze to mine. Those deep eyes were hollow, stripped of any warmth. I caught sight of the black sports watch on his left wrist, the one he never took off. It was just cheap silicone, but right now it glinted with a cold, obsidian gleam, almost unnerving in its lifelessness.

Tick... tick...

The sound was barely audible, but in the dead silence of the restaurant, it stood out with chilling clarity. I used to think it was just the second hand ticking, but the rhythm was unnaturally fast, nothing like any clock I'd ever heard. It felt more like some urgent, ominous signal, a death knell pushing me toward the end.

Deep in the night, after Adrian had finally fallen asleep, I turned over as quietly as I could. Moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting his silhouette in a cold, marble-like glow.

Cold sweat broke out on my palms, my heart pounding in my chest. Compelled by some strange force, I reached out toward the watch that had been making me so uneasy.

The moment my fingertips touched the strap, a bone-chilling cold shot up through my nails and straight into my marrow. I held my breath, fumbling for the buckle, but there wasn't even a seam, no way to open it.

My hands shaking, I lit up my phone screen. The faint glow revealed something that made my stomach churn and acid rise in my throat.

The edge of the black watch face wasn't resting on his skin; it was sunk deep into Adrian's wrist bone. Dark purple veins coiled around the watch case like vines, and bright red flesh had actually grown through the watch lugs.

What really sent a chill down my spine was that the numbers flashing on the screen weren't time; they were a cascade of red light, crumbling at an alarming speed.

And the rhythm of that light was eerily in sync with Adrian's heavy breathing and the weak pulse beneath his skin.

The next morning, I was woken up by the smell of bacon frying.

That was weird. Adrian was the kind of workaholic whose routine was borderline obsessive, he should've been in the back of his Rolls-Royce, reading the morning paper on his way to work.

I pushed open the door and saw him standing at the stove, wearing that slightly goofy apron. Sunlight spilled over him, giving him a soft, almost ethereal glow. He turned at the sound, and to my surprise, there was a faint smile on his lips. "You're up? Wash your hands and come have breakfast."

I stood there, stunned, forgetting all about the nightmare I'd witnessed last night. This kind of gentleness was so unfamiliar, it sent a bone-deep chill down my spine.

"Not going to the office today?" I asked tentatively.

"No, and I'm not going for the next six days either," Adrian said, sliding the eggs onto the plate with the kind of elegant precision you'd expect from him closing a billion-dollar deal. "Today, I'm taking you to that old street you've been wanting to check out, and we'll try some street food together."

I sat in the passenger seat, feeling like I was sitting on pins and needles the whole ride. Adrian canceled every meeting and even cut off calls from several key board members right in front of me.

He took me to that filthy street stall for snacks, then bought a big bag of my favorite Sugar Buns. In the bustling crowd, he gripped my hand so tightly that the warmth made me almost believe, for a fleeting moment, that we were just a normal, happy couple.

"Hey, check that out," Adrian came to a sudden halt, pointing at a little kite stand by the curb.

There was a butterfly kite, bursting with color, its bamboo frame solid and built to last. I stared at it, and bits and pieces of old memories suddenly clicked into place. Adrian bought it for me, handing the kite over with a handful of change.

Goosebumps prickled my skin. How did he know exactly what the kite I lost at eight looked like? That was a memory from a time before we ever met, before we were even in each other's lives.