Chapter 1

My name was Claire Wynn, and I was born with congenital insensitivity to pain. Literally, I never knew what pain felt like.

My dad said when I first learned to walk, I fell over and over again. My knees were always scraped and bleeding, but I'd quietly pick myself up and keep moving like nothing had happened.

At first, my mom thought I was a tough kid. But when I was three, I stuck my finger into boiling water, watching expressionlessly as my skin turned red and blistered. Only then did she realize something was wrong.

The doctor explained, "This is a rare nerve disorder. She can't feel any pain."

For most people, pain was a warning, a built-in alarm that kept them safe. But I didn't have that alarm. So for me, the world was full of hidden dangers and injuries I couldn't even feel.

My childhood was spent under my family's constant vigilance. They had to check me all the time, making sure I hadn't unknowingly hurt myself.

Sadly, that protection slowly turned sour over time.

When I turned twenty-two, my family saw the value in my flaw. I became their ideal pawn for an arranged marriage.

"Claire, Edward is a good match for you," my dad said in his study, his eyes avoiding mine. "He'll give you a stable life."

My mom stood nearby, silently dabbing at her eyes, but she never spoke up to object.

I knew Edward Ashford. He was a legend in the business world. By thirty-two, he'd pushed his family's company to the top with ruthless moves, earning him the nickname "Business Shark."

They said he was utterly ruthless, never once showing warmth or mercy to anyone.

And to make things even more interesting, rumor had it that Edward had suffered a serious head injury as a kid, damaging the part of his brain that handles emotions. He couldn't feel what normal people did, especially empathy.

"One feels no pain, the other feels no pity," my sister Sophie once mocked. "I can't imagine how you two could ever work together."

The whole upper crust was betting on how badly this marriage would crash and burn. No one thought we'd make it, not even me.

The first time I met Edward was under the arrangement of our families.

He sat on the sofa in the parlor, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark gray suit, his whole presence exuding an intimidating aura.

"Ms. Wynn," he greeted, rising to his feet and extending his hand.

His palm was broad and strong, his fingers long and elegant. When he took my hand, his grip was firm and precise, no more, no less.

I looked up and met his gaze. His eyes were deep, like the ocean at midnight, impossible to see what lay beneath.

"Mr. Ashford," I replied softly.

Our talk was quick and efficient, almost like closing a deal. He asked about my interests and habits, and I answered plainly.

His face stayed blank through the whole exchange, except for a few polite nods.

"You don't seem to talk much," he observed.

"Sometimes silence says enough," I replied.

For a split second, a faint glimmer flickered in Edward's eyes, so brief I almost thought I'd imagined it.

Three months later, we got married.

The wedding was extravagant, with nearly every big shot in the business world showing up.

Walking down the aisle in my wedding dress, arm-in-arm with my father, I felt the stares, curious, pitying, and some waiting for things to fall apart.

When Edward took my hand, he leaned in and whispered in my ear, Ignore them. This is just a show we have to play."

I nodded and played my part, going through all the rituals with him.

That night, we slept in separate bedrooms in our suite.

That was what I expected. In a marriage arranged by our families, love was never really part of the equation.

After the wedding, life was so quiet it felt heavy.

Edward was always busy with work, often coming home long after I'd fallen asleep. By the time I woke up in the morning, he'd already left.

We lived under the same roof, but our paths barely crossed.

Edward's villa was huge, but it always felt cold and empty.

Aside from the cleaners who came regularly, the only person who visited was Selena Warren, his secretary, who dropped by occasionally to report on work.

Selena was a woman in her early thirties, always flawlessly made up and perfectly poised. Every time she saw me, she'd greet me with polite courtesy.

But I could always catch a hint of contempt in her eyes, as if she were saying, "How did someone who can't feel pain become Mrs. Ashford?"

I didn't bother with it. I'd seen that kind of look way too many times since I was a kid.

What truly made me realize this marriage was far more complicated than I thought was an accident.