Chapter one

The Whitfield estate sat behind iron gates at the edge of the city, the mansion was more like a palace extravagant and magnificent. Tonight every room on the ground floor was lit, voices spilling from the main hall where the family had gathered to welcome my cousin-in-law's new son into the world.

I stood near the edge of it all with a gift bag in my hands, waiting for a break in the circle of relatives surrounding her. When it came, I stepped forward and pressed the bag into her arms, told her he was beautiful, I meant it, and stepped back into the crowd before anyone could ask me anything.

It didn't work for long.

"Alyssa." My mother-in-law found me the way she always did, appearing beside me. "Where is Corin tonight? I don't see him."

"A business trip," I said. "He'll be back soon."

"Again." She said the word like a verdict. "That boy works himself to the bone." Then her eyes moved over me, slow and deliberate. "Four years married, Alyssa. One would think by now there'd be some good news to share with this family."

I knew what she was talking about, issues about children again.

An aunt nearby glanced over, not even pretending not to listen. "She's right. My daughter had two by now at your age."

Heat crawled up my neck. "We're not in a rush," I said, my usual worn deflection, and my mother-in-law rolled her eyes showing her dislike towards me,I am she said before turning back to the baby. The aunt gave me one last look then followed.

How could there be good news when it had been months since my husband had touched me giving different excuses and here I was, expected to explain why my body hadn't produced a miracle.

I looked around for Bianca, my husband's sister in-law. She was the only person here who ever made me feel like I belonged here, she's more like my sister. Corin and his uncle Callan Bianca's husband had never been on good terms, but Bianca and I had never needed anyone else's history to be close.

She wasn't here tonight. A cousin mentioned something about her having a shoot out of town, and I nodded and swallowed the disappointment.

"Speaking of family," an aunt said, catching my attention, "what is Callan doing here?"

I turned before I could stop myself.

He stood near the far windows, unbothered, a glass in his hand he wasn't drinking from. A chill moved down my spine.

Everyone in this family knew who Callan Whitfield was. He was Corin's uncle, a few years older, more like the family's ruler, The Whitfield had one rule, the most powerful ruled and he was currently the one with the highest power in the family now, he carried himself like a man who had never once needed anyone's approval to walk into a room. People straightened when he was near. Corin had warned me about him more than once, told me to keep my distance, and I never questioned it. I had spent years perfecting the art of not being noticed by him.

Except right then, I realized he already was.

He wasn't looking at anyone else. For one unbearable second his eyes held mine, steady, unreadable, like he was measuring something in me . Then he looked away first, unbothered, like I hadn't mattered enough to hold his attention at all.

I looked away too, my pulse doing something I refused to examine. It’s more like a surprise why he was looking at me.

My phone rang before I could think further on it. Corin, I let out a smile.

I slipped into the hallway to answer.

"Hey, baby," he said, warm and easy, exactly the way he always sounded. "How's the party?"

"Loud," I said. "Your mother asked about grandchildren again."

He laughed softly. "Ignore her. I miss you. I'll cut this trip short, I promise, I'll be home before the weekend."

"You always say that."

"I mean it this time." He said. "I love you, you know that."

"I love you too."

The call ended and I stood there a moment longer. Whatever his mother thought of me, Corin loved me. That’s all that mattered.

I turned to head back toward the hall when a hand closed around my wrist and pulled me into an empty room before I understood what was happening.

For seconds I didn't know who had me, my heart slamming. The door clicked shut. I wrenched free and spun around.

"Callan." I said surprised. "What are you doing?" I snapped, the words came out sharper than expected.

He released me at once, but neither of us moved. He was standing too close, close enough that I had to fight the urge to step back, and I hated that I noticed the room had gone quiet.

My mind was already racing past him, to the hall outside, to anyone who might have seen us disappear together. He was my husband's uncle. There were lines in this family that didn't bend, and I had never once let myself come near one. If anyone had seen him pull me in here, there would be no explaining it away.

"What if someone saw this," I said, my voice low, urgent. "Do you understand what people would think?"

I stepped backwards

Something like amusement crossed his face, there and gone. "Let them think what they want."

"That's easy for you to say."

"Look at these. He set an envelope on the table, and beside it, a phone, the screen already lit.

"What is this?"

"Open it."

My mind went through everything in my brain, what's he doing, what could he possibly want to show me.

My hands weren't steady as I opened it. The first photo stole the air from my lungs . Corin and Bianca kissing, I checked other photos,same thing, different backgrounds.

"This isn't real." The words came out fast, as I dropped the photo with trembling hands. "This has to be edited. It's some kind of trick."

He stepped closer, and I stepped back until the wall stopped me. "Why would I bother playing such tricks ," he said, his voice calm but it sent chills.

You just want to hurt Corin I said with trembling voice even I didn't believe what I said.

"I have nothing to gain from lying to you, Alyssa.

I'm already above anything Corin will ever build. A trick like this would be beneath me."He said softly.

"Then it's staged. Someone set this up." I snapped, not wanting to believe it. "Corin wouldn't, he loves me. And Bianca, she wouldn't do this to me. She's the only person in this family who's ever cared about me."

"There's more." He didn't argue with me, just nodded toward the phone, and something about his patience unsettled me more than if he'd pushed back. "A video. He handed me documents. The villa Corin told you he sold, it was never sold. It's in her name now."

The villa. Our villa, the one place that was supposed to be only ours. Corin had bought for our honeymoon, told me it would always be just for us, that no one else would ever set foot in it. I had believed him, without question. Few months ago when I asked about the villa he told he, he sold it but I've always wanted it.

But right before my eyes in the documents were Bianca's name.

"And do you remember the acting role you wanted so badly a year ago he asked you to give up," Callan said, watching me carefully now.

I did. He'd told me the spotlight wasn't right for me, that he only wanted to protect me, he didn't want cruel directors or sponsors to prey on me. I had cried for a week it has always been my dream to be an actress, then I had gone to Bianca myself, begged her to take it in my place so someone I loved could have what I couldn't.

"Bianca wanted that role," Callan said quietly. "That's the real reason he made you walk away from it."

The room tilted slightly around me. I had handed her my own dream with my own hands.

"No." I shook my head. "You're twisting this."

My knees felt unsteady beneath me. I pressed my nails into my palm through my sleeve, hard enough to ground myself, hoping he couldn't see how close I was to breaking apart in front of him.

"I don't know what to believe," I thought. My husband. Bianca. The two people I trusted most in this world, and I couldn't tell anymore which version of them was real.

A knock sounded against the door, then the handle turned, caught against the lock, and turned again.

My whole body went cold. I looked at Callan, panic rising fast in my throat, already imagining the door swinging open, someone's face finding us alone together in a locked room, the story that would spread through this house before the night was even over.

He didn't move. He didn't even look at the door.

After few moment the handle stilled. Footsteps retreated.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my hand pressed flat against my chest. Someone couldn't find us together

"Come see for yourself tomorrow," Callan said, already stepping toward the door . "If I'm wrong, you never have to speak to me again."

He slipped out before I could answer, the door easing shut behind him, and I stood alone in that room for a long time, this has to be fake, it can't be real, I kept saying to myself.