LOGIN"Sign it." His voice was cold, sharp as steel. "Wait-there must be a mistake." "Sign the damn papers," he said, his voice low and razor-edged. I swallowed hard. My father's threats echoed in my mind: If you don't, you'll never see your son again. And I signed. Elizabeth Harper was never meant to marry him. He was danger dressed in a tailored suit, wealth wrapped in silence, power masked by cold blue eyes. A mistake, one signature in the wrong room, and now she's tied to Christian Reed, the ruthless billionaire known for destroying empires... including his own bloodline. She was supposed to be invisible, Obedient and disposable.
View MoreElIZABETH POV "Are you going to keep staring or do you want me to do this the hard way?” His voice was flat, leaving no room for negotiation. God knew I did not want to find out what the hard way looked like. "I already told you my name is Mary Jane and no, it's not made up." I kept my voice even. "It's my name. I moved from New York to South Africa years ago, I was only here on a business trip. If you don't want to sponsor the art anymore that's fine, just let me go back." How I said all of that without throwing up on my own lies I genuinely don't know. He just looked at me. That blank, unreadable expression that gave absolutely nothing away. I couldn't believe I was sitting here looking at my husband. I was so terrified that if I blinked he'd disappear, or I'd wake up, and I didn't want to wake up. If this was a dream I just needed a little longer with this face. A little longer. "You called me Christian like we're old friends," he said. "And you draw my face and my eyes
ELIZABETH POV I sat in that living room for a long time, just staring at nothing. My brain had completely given up trying to process anything. Every time I tried to grab onto a thought, it slipped away. Christian is alive. Christian is alive, and he looked at me like I was a stranger, and he has a fiancée, and I’m currently under house arrest in the house we used to spend weekends in together. None of this is real. It can’t be. Except that the guards stationed around me, like furniture, were very real. One by the door, one near the hallway, both of them watching my every move with the energy of men who got paid not to blink. My phone beeped from inside my bag on the piano. I got up on legs that weren’t fully cooperating and grabbed it. James. I stared at his name on the screen for a second and almost laughed. What exactly was I supposed to tell him? I picked up. “Hi James, how are you?” "Elizabeth, Jesus. Where are you? They called me, saying you're over an hour la
ELIZABETH POV I blink three times, making sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. It's Christian. My husband. What the hell. What's happening right now. I stood up on shaky legs, half convinced I was about to fall right back on my ass. "Oh my god... Christian... you're alive." I moved toward him, hands stretched out to touch his face. "Do you know me?" He slapped my hands away. Hard. My hands fell. I staggered back, horror creeping up my spine. "Christian... Christian it's me." I searched his eyes for anything. One flicker. One trace of recognition. Nothing. Is this a doppelgänger? "This is the woman who broke into one of your properties, sir." "I see." He looked at me like I was some unhinged stranger who wasn't in her right mind. "What were you doing in my house, young lady? Without permission." "Christian?" "You've said my name four times now." His voice didn't change. "I asked you a question. If you're not going to answer it, I'm sure you'd love t
ELIZABETH POV By the time we pulled up I was sweating. Actual sweat, palms slick against my jeans, heart slamming against my ribs like it was trying to escape my body before I did something stupid. What if Paul knew about this place. What if someone had followed me. What if this was the dumbest decision I’d made in three years. But it was private property. Nobody knew about this house except us. I told myself that on a loop the entire walk up to the front door. The place looked dead. Dry grass everywhere, paint peeling at the edges, the kind of stillness that only comes from a house nobody’s touched in a long time. Which made sense, given everything I’d learned since landing, Paul was sick, apparently had been for a while, and there were already quiet rumors floating around about new leadership stepping in to take over what was left of Christian’s company. Everything he built getting handed off and picked apart by people who never earned a single piece of it. I tried the d










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