LOGINShe needs money to fix her broken Life. He needs a fake wife to secure his corporate empire. Billionaire Cain Ashford hasn't slept a full night in eight months. He's haunted by the fire that took everything from him, circled by family who want his empire, and running out of time to save his father's legacy. The solution is simple— find a wife. What isn't so simple is the woman his team sends him. She has a different name. A different past. She insists she has never been to California before. But she is a spitting image of his late wife, Vivienne. She knows things only one woman should know. And she was two miles from the lake house on the night it burned to the ground. Nora claims she's a nobody from Chicago. Cain isn't so sure. And the closer he gets to the truth, the further she pulls away from him. What if his wife didn't die in that fire? One of them is lying to themselves... But who? Cain intends to find out, and he has a five-million-dollar contract to ensure she stays right where he can watch her.
View MoreThe transformation took three hours. Abel spent them in his study, pacing a trench into the rug.Stylists, makeup artists, and hairdressers had descended on the East Wing like a swarm of locusts. He had given them one instruction: to make her look like a billionaire's wife without making her look like Helen.But it was an impossible request. The stylists had no idea Olivia was Helen’s mirror image. And any attempt to beautify her would only sharpen the resemblance.At 6:30 PM, the swarm had departed, and the house went quiet again. Abel stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, letting his mind rail with thoughts. The gala started in thirty minutes. Maria would be there, waiting for him to somehow slip up. The Board would be there too, waiting to see the rumored new bride of Abel Lamb."Olivia!" he called out, his patience thinning. "We are leaving in five minutes.""I'm coming," a voice floated down from the top of the stairs.He looked up. And for the second time in twenty-four ho
The transformation took hours. Cain spent all of them in his study, pacing a trench into his rug. Stylists, makeup artists, and hairdressers had descended on the East Wing like a swarm of locusts. He’d given them one instruction: to make her look like the wife of Cain Ashford. But without making her look like Vivienne.But it was an impossible request and he knew it even if the stylists didn't. Nora was Vivienne’s mirror image. Any attempt to beautify her would only sharpen her resemblance.At 6:30 PM, the swarm had departed, and the house was quiet again.Cain stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, his mind railing with thoughts. The gala was in thirty minutes. Lydia would be there, waiting for him to somehow slip up. The Board would be there too, waiting to see the rumored new bride of Cain Ashford."Nora!" he called out, his patience thinning. "We are leaving in five.""I'm coming," a voice floated from the top of the stairs.He looked up. And for the second time in twenty-f
Morning arrived for Cain with the cold and grey reality of a headache that whiskey couldn’t cure.He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, splashing freezing water on his face. The man staring back at him was a ruin. Hollow cheeks. Eyes rimmed red. He looked like grief personified, which was appropriate, because that was more or less what he wasHe could still hear Nora humming that lullaby in his head. He had watched her for what felt like hours last night before finally forcing himself to leave. He told himself it was the scotch getting to him. And somehow, a french lullaby he had only ever heard Vivienne sing was probably popular.He got dressed in a regal Italian grey suit cut like armor and sharp enough to draw blood. That was what he needed today. He barely walked out of his room when he heard voices drifting up from the dining area.Not the hushed tones of the staff. No. Trespassers.He clenched his jaw tight and checked his watch. “It's 7:01 AM,” he thought. “Why are they h
The sweeping of the Phantom’s wipers did little to break the suffocating silence inside the car. Rain-streaked city lights bled across the windshield, painting the black leather interior in shifting colors. Cain kept his eyes on the road, but his head was constantly being tugged to the woman in his passenger seat.She hadn't said a word since he’d found her shivering on a bench in the park, her face pale and her clothes damp. Now she just sat still, staring out the window, and breathing so shallow.He tried hard to focus on the road, but his gaze kept sliding to Nora every chance they could, like a part of his brain needed to confirm she was still there, that she wouldn't dissolve into mist and memory like she was supposed to.“What were you doing at a place like that?” he finally asked, his voice a bit rough.He watched her profile, saw her throat move as she swallowed and her lips part, but her voice was so low, it got swallowed by the horn of a passing vehicle."What was that?"


















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