Chapter 1

Luther actually laughed when he saw how terrified I was.

He took two steps toward me.

“I'm Luther.”

Then he gave me a teasing smile.

“What is this today, Lily Davis? Some kind of spy movie?”

I said nothing.

Instead, I instinctively backed away.

As Luther spoke, he seemed to catch what the news anchor was saying on TV.

He glanced toward the screen.

Then realization dawned on him.

“Oh. That's what scared you.”

He looked back at me.

“Lily, listen to the report. The guy was thirty-five. I'm twenty-eight. The ages don't even match.”

His tone was almost amused.

“And this is a huge city. Two people having the same name isn't exactly impossible.

“Now put the knife down before you hurt yourself.”

Still doubtful, I glanced back at the television.

The anchor was continuing the report.

“The deceased has been identified as thirty-five-year-old Luther Miller, who was unemployed at the time of his death. The investigation remains ongoing.”

I froze.

He was right.

The details didn't match.

Slowly, I lowered the knife.

Luther immediately crossed the room, took it from my hand, and set it safely on the counter.

Then he pulled me into his arms.

“That really scared you, didn't it?”

His voice softened.

“Look at me. I'm right here. I'm fine.

“Go sit down for a while. I'll make dinner tonight.”

With an arm around me, he guided me out of the kitchen.

I sat down on the couch.

The news continued in the background.

“And now to today's other headlines. Earlier this morning, city officials met to discuss...”

But I didn't hear another word.

My eyes were fixed on the man moving around the kitchen.

A chill slowly crept down my spine.

Luther couldn't cook.

At all.

But the man in front of me moved around the kitchen like he'd been doing it for years.

His knife work was quick and precise.

He knew exactly when to lower the heat, when to season, when to turn something over without even checking a recipe.

That wasn't the kind of skill someone picked up overnight.

He wasn't Luther.

He couldn't be.

So who was he?

My mind raced.

Then my eyes landed on the coffee table.

The moment his back was turned, I slipped the small knife from the fruit plate into my sleeve.

I needed to test him.

A little while later, Luther brought dinner to the table.

“Lily, go wash your hands. Dinner's ready.”

I obediently got up.

When I came back, I glanced at the food and asked casually,

“You made the mashed potatoes with garlic, right? You know that's the only way I like them.”

Luther paused.

Then he raised an eyebrow.

“You hate garlic in mashed potatoes.”

My heart gave a small jolt.

He continued,

“You always say it overpowers everything. Since when did you change your mind?”

He was right.

I hated garlic in mashed potatoes.

I nodded as though I'd simply misspoken.

“Right. I meant without garlic.”

I sat down and deliberately reached for my fork before Luther had even taken his seat.

He immediately gave me a look.

“Seriously?”

I paused.

He pulled out his chair.

“How many times have I told you? Your mom hates it when people start eating before everyone sits down.”

His mouth twitched.

“If she were here, she'd give you that look and spend the next ten minutes lecturing you about table manners.”

My fingers tightened slightly around the fork.

That matched too.

It was exactly the kind of thing Luther always reminded me about.

Since he'd brought up my mother, I decided to push further.

I took a bite of dinner and said casually,

“Speaking of Mom, her birthday's coming up.

“I was thinking of buying her another scarf this year. Something she can wear when she travels.”

Luther reached across the table and picked a piece of ginger out of my food.

His brows pulled together.

“I left the pieces big so you could see them. How did you still manage to get one?”

He dropped it onto the edge of his plate.

“You know you'll complain for five minutes if you accidentally bite into ginger.”

Then he looked at me strangely.

“And your mom's birthday isn't until November. We've got months.”

He continued serving himself.

“You bought her a scarf last year. She loved it, but you don't have to give her the same thing every birthday.”

He thought for a moment.

“What about a handbag this year?”

I quietly took another bite.

Every answer was perfect.

He hadn't fallen for a single trap.

Had I really imagined everything?

After dinner, Luther noticed I still looked pale.

He took care of the dishes himself and sent me off to shower and get some rest.

Later, I lay in bed tossing and turning.

I couldn't sleep.

I was debating whether I should stop testing him and simply ask him what was going on when the bedroom door opened.

Luther came in and settled against the headboard.

Then he loosely pulled me into his arms.

“Lily, you've been acting strange all day.”

His voice was gentle.

“Did that news report really scare you that much?

“I'm right here. There's nothing to be afraid of.”

He stroked my arm.

“Tomorrow's the weekend. Let's go grocery shopping after work.

“You've been cooped up at home too much lately. I'm worried you're going stir-crazy.”

His heartbeat was strong against my ear.

Steady.

Real.

I didn't know what to say, so I murmured a vague response.

I tilted my head up, intending to say something else.

Then an overwhelming wave of exhaustion suddenly hit me.

Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep in Luther's arms.

Sometime after midnight, faint footsteps woke me.

I opened my eyes groggily.

Luther was getting out of bed.

He quietly opened the bedroom door and walked out.

From the direction he went, he seemed to be heading toward the home office.

His company was in the middle of an international acquisition.

With the time difference, he'd occasionally had to get up in the middle of the night for calls before.

So I didn't think much of it.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep again.

But the next morning, I discovered that the office door was locked.

I tried the spare key.

It didn't fit.

My stomach dropped.

He had changed the lock.