Chapter 1

"Natalie, what man would ever want a woman like you besides me?"

Those were the last words Edward Sinclair spat at me before he walked out of our marriage and straight into the arms of his first love, Vivian Spencer.

I needed to disappear not just from him, but from everyone. So I faked my own death and vanished from the world overnight.

I moved abroad, changed my name, and built a whole new life from scratch.

Three years passed, and I had almost forgotten about him. But then Edward's name exploded across every headline again. He was marrying Vivian.

The wedding was broadcast live around the globe. I watched him slide the ring onto her finger, his eyes full of devotion, and I felt nothing.

But when they walked into the city hall to sign the marriage certificate, the clerk stopped them cold. "Mr. Sinclair, I'm afraid we can't process this. Your former wife, Natalie, is currently listed as married."

Edward's face went white. "What the hell are you talking about? She's dead!"

*****

The air conditioning in the city hall was cranked up too high, and the cold raised goosebumps across every inch of exposed skin.

Edward stood rigid in his tailored suit, his face drained of all color. That handsome face, the one splashed across the covers of financial magazines year after year, showed its first real crack.

"Say that again." His voice scraped through clenched teeth, low and heavy with a storm about to break.

The clerk flinched under the weight of his presence but held her composure.

She turned the screen toward him and pointed to a single line of black text.

She said, "Mr. Sinclair, our system shows that your ex-wife, Ms. Carter, registered a marriage overseas one year ago.

"Because of that, your marital status was never updated to 'divorced' in our domestic records. Legally, you are not eligible to apply for a new marriage license at this time."

Every word landed like a dull, poisoned blade, dragging slowly and deliberately across Edward's nerves.

Beside him, Vivian stood frozen in her pristine white wedding gown, her makeup flawless. But the color had bled from her delicate face, leaving it chalk-white.

She forced a smile that looked worse than tears and reached over to tug gently at Edward's sleeve. "Edward, don't be upset. It has to be a system error. Natalie, she's already—"

The sentence hung unfinished, but everyone in the room understood what she meant.

Natalie was dead.

Natalie had died in a car accident three years ago. Her vehicle had plunged off a bridge into the river, and by the time they pulled it out, all that remained was a charred wreck.

A dead woman couldn't possibly get married overseas.

"A system error?" Edward whipped his head around, his eyes burning with barely contained rage as he pinned the young clerk with his stare.

He snapped, "You're going to stand there and feed me that garbage? Pull up the records. Now. Delete that data and fix this. Right now."

He had completely lost control, and every shred of his pride and composure was shattered in an instant.

Everyone in the hall turned to look. Some were curious, others stunned, and a wave of whispers spread through the room like a low, buzzing hum.

Vivian's nails dug deep into her palms. She had schemed and fought for this grand wedding. She had dreamed of becoming Mrs. Sinclair for countless sleepless nights. But at the very last step, the whole thing had turned into a complete and utter joke.

A memory surfaced in my mind, sharp and vivid, from an afternoon three years ago.

The atmosphere that day was nothing like this.

The sun had been pouring through the glass windows, bright and warm, but none of it reached me.

I sat calmly at the table and signed my name on the divorce papers.

Across from me, Edward leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were full of undisguised contempt and impatience. "Natalie, what man would ever want a woman like you besides me?"

I still remember the exact curve of his lips when he said it. That smirk was a complete denial of everything I had given during our three years of marriage, and the ultimate humiliation of who I was as a person.

I didn't say a word. I just slid the signed papers across the table.

That hollow, burnt-out feeling where nothing matters anymore. That was exactly what I felt.

Then came the carefully orchestrated "accident."

Towering flames. Piercing sirens. A massive headline splashed across every news outlet: [Mrs. Sinclair Dead in Tragic Accident.]

I remember how the Sinclair family handled the whole thing. They were cold about it, like they were disposing of some old piece of junk that no longer served a purpose.

There was no memorial, no funeral. Just a sterile death certificate and an expensive urn filled with animal ashes.

They couldn't wait for me to die.

And I needed to die, too. Because death was the only way I could start over.

Now, Edward's shouting continued.

He had pulled every string he had, dialing one number after another, barking orders at whoever answered, demanding they fix this "technical issue" as quickly as possible.

But each call only made him more unsettled.

"Mr. Sinclair, we can't find anything. Her identity records have been locked behind S-level clearance. We don't have authorization to access any of it."

The voice on the other end belonged to his most trusted operative, and for the first time, it carried real fear.

Encrypted. A woman who had been dead for three years. A woman he had always believed was nothing without him. Who would go through the trouble of protecting her information?

Edward hung up the phone. His chest heaved, and a strange, unfamiliar sense of losing control took hold of him.

Then something hit him. He immediately ordered his people to pull the case files from the car accident three years ago.

The report came through on his phone within minutes.

There were no skid marks. The identity had been confirmed by a single tooth, and no personal belongings of mine were recovered from the scene.

One red flag after another, and he had brushed them all aside three years ago without a second thought.

He never cared, so he never questioned it.

Vivian returned to their empty home. She dialed a number with trembling hands.

Her voice was shrill and dripping with venom. "Find her! I don't care what it takes. Find out what Natalie is really up to! I want proof, dead or alive!"