Chapter 1

The Manhattan penthouse is bathed in the soft glow of sunrise when I wake. I stretch beneath the cool Egyptian cotton sheets, feeling the weight of today’s significance press warmly against my chest. Four years. Four years since Daniel took me in his arms and promised me forever. Four years since he pulled me from the wreckage of my old life and helped me build a new one—better, brighter, stronger. I should feel grateful. I should feel loved. I should feel...whole.

But as I roll over and reach for my phone on the nightstand, my hand instinctively brushes against the small, unmarked bottle tucked between the lamp and the phone. The label is worn, the edges curled from too many nervous fingers tracing the words "Prenatal Vitamins." I shouldn’t be taking them. I have no right.

Still, I open the bottle and swallow one, the bitter taste lingering on my tongue as I stare at the blank ceiling. It’s foolish. Stupid. But some part of me clings to the fantasy that somehow, someway, science will find a way to fix what was broken. That I’ll wake up one morning and the impossible will have become possible. That I’ll be whole again.

I push the thought away and scroll to my secret Pinterest board—"Nurseries to Dream Of." I click on the first pin: a soft, cream-colored room with a crib shaped like a moon and walls painted with constellations. The caption reads, "For when the stars align." I trace my finger over the screen, imagining a baby’s tiny hands reaching for the mobile hanging above. My throat tightens, and I quickly close the app, forcing myself to focus on the day ahead.

Daniel is already in the shower, the sound of water and his low humming drifting through the open door. I pad across the heated marble floors to the kitchen, pulling out the white roses he loves and arranging them in the crystal vases. The sunlight catches the prisms, casting rainbow shards across the walls, and I can’t help but smile. This is my life now—a life of beauty and luxury and love. I should be happy.

But as I turn to grab another vase, my eyes catch on the small, shattered remains of a crystal car ornament displayed on the side table. It’s the only piece left from the accident four years ago, a jagged reminder of the day that changed everything. The day Daniel found me. The day he saved me.

My stomach twists, and I set the vase down harder than intended. Why does it still unsettle me? It’s just glass. Just a relic of a terrible moment in my past. But as I stare at the sharp edges and the way the light fractures through the broken crystal, I can’t shake the feeling of wrongness. Like I’m staring at a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit.

"Good morning, darling."

I jump at Daniel’s voice, my heart pounding as I turn to see him leaning against the doorway, towel slung low around his waist, water droplets glistening on his bare chest. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles at me, and my traitorous heart swells with love.

"Morning," I reply, forcing a bright tone into my voice. "I was just...getting everything ready."

He nods, his gaze flickering to the roses before returning to me. "You spoil me, Sarah. You know I’d be happy with just you."

My cheeks heat at the affection in his words, and I step forward, pressing a kiss to his chest. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close, and for a moment, everything feels right. Everything feels perfect.

But as he releases me and heads for the closet, his phone lights up on the counter. I glance at it, my breath catching at the sight of a message thread pulled up on the screen. My name isn’t on it. The names I see make my blood run cold.

Daniel: "She’s getting suspicious. I need to keep her distracted."

Friend: "Don’t worry. Only Victoria deserves to bear your children."

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. Victoria? The name echoes in my mind, tangling with memories I’ve tried to suppress. Victoria Sterling. The woman Daniel was with before me. The woman he’s never quite let go of.

My hands tremble as I scroll through the messages, each word twisting the knife deeper. They talk about me like I’m a project. A game. Something to be manipulated and controlled. And Daniel...Daniel is right there with them, laughing and joking and planning.

I don’t realize I’m crying until the tears blur the screen. My heart races, and I struggle to breathe. What have I been living in? What kind of hell have I been sleepwalking through?

I hear Daniel’s footsteps returning and quickly wipe my face, scrambling to compose myself. He can’t see me like this. He can’t know that I know. But as I turn to face him, the shattered crystal ornament catches my eye again, and this time, it makes a horrible kind of sense.

Was it really an accident? Or was it just the first move in a game I didn’t even know I was playing?