CHAPTER 1

The SUV tears through the rain-soaked streets of New York, cutting through the darkness as though the storm itself is chasing us.

I keep struggling in the back seat, desperate to escape the man who dragged me away from my wedding. My wrists ache from the force of his grip, and every attempt to pull away ends with him blocking my path.

“Let me go!” I scream, my voice raw from crying. “I don't know you! Somebody, help me!”

He watches me in silence, his blue eyes fixed on my face.

“Stop fighting, Evie.”

“My name is Beatrice!”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I see something break through his cold expression. It might be pain. It might be anger. I can't tell, and I don't care enough to find out.

“You'll remember eventually.”

“Remember what? Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?”

He leans back slightly, but he doesn't move away from the door.

“My name is Declan Callahan.”

The name means nothing to me.

He seems to be waiting for a reaction, perhaps a flicker of recognition, but all I feel is fear.

“Six years,” he murmurs. “Six years, and you look at me as though you've never seen me before.”

“Because I haven't!”

His expression hardens.

“You're Evie Callahan. My wife. The mother of our daughter, Claire.”

I stare at him, unable to process the words.

“No. That's impossible. I've never been married to you. I don't have a daughter.”

“Your memories say otherwise.”

“My memories are perfectly clear!”

“Are they?”

His question unsettles me more than I want to admit.

I try to recall the moments before the wedding. The preparations. The guests. Harvey waiting for me at the altar.

Everything is there, vivid and familiar.

Yet when I try to remember anything before that, my thoughts seem to run into a wall. There are fragments, perhaps, but nothing I can grasp long enough to understand.

I press my hands against my temples.

“What is happening to me?”

Declan's expression changes.

For the first time, he seems less interested in frightening me than in finding an answer himself.

“That's what I intend to discover.”

“Then take me to a hospital. Let a doctor examine me.”

“We'll discuss that when we get home.”

“Home?” I repeat incredulously. “You kidnapped me from my wedding!”

His eyes darken at the mention of Harvey.

“Harvey Prescott has no right to keep you.”

“You don't get to decide that!”

The SUV slows as we approach a private hangar. Beyond the windows, bright lights illuminate a waiting jet and several men standing beside it.

My stomach drops.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Dublin.”

“I don't want to go to Dublin!”

“You need answers, Evie. And so do I.”

Before I can respond, the vehicle stops.

Declan gets out and opens my door. I immediately scramble toward the opposite side, pulling desperately at the handle.

Locked.

“No, please!” I cry. “You can't do this!”

He reaches for me, but I shove his hand away.

“Don't touch me!”

He pauses.

For one brief moment, we stare at each other across the narrow space.

Then he steps back, allowing me room to climb out on my own.

I hesitate, suspicious of the sudden change.

“I'm not going to run,” I say, although I know I would try if I saw even the smallest opportunity.

“Good.”

I climb out of the SUV, my ruined wedding dress dragging across the wet pavement. The cold rain seeps through the fabric, and I shiver as I look around the hangar.

There is nowhere to go.

Declan guides me toward the aircraft without touching me again. Two men follow us inside.

One is blond, with a composed expression and an air of quiet authority. The other has dark hair and cold eyes. He carries a laptop under one arm.

“Who are they?” I ask.

“My brothers. Zion and Luka.”

The dark-haired man glances at me.

“It's been a long night,” he says. “Perhaps we should let her settle down before questioning her.”

Declan gives him a sharp look.

“She needs to understand what's happening.”

“Then explain it to her,” Luka replies. “She can't understand anything if all she hears are threats.”

I look at Luka, hoping to find some trace of compassion.

“Please. Tell him to let me go.”

His expression softens, but his answer is immediate.

“I can't do that.”

“Then you're all the same.”

He lowers his eyes to his laptop without replying.

Declan gestures toward a small room at the back of the aircraft.

“You can rest there until we land.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then we'll remain here arguing until the pilot gets tired of waiting.”

His tone is so matter-of-fact that I almost laugh. Almost.

I have been abducted, taken away from my wedding, and told that I have a husband and a daughter I cannot remember. Yet he speaks as though we're having an ordinary disagreement.

I walk toward the room, keeping my distance from him.

Inside, there is a bed, a small table, and a narrow window overlooking the rain-swept runway. The space is comfortable, but the locked door makes it clear that comfort has nothing to do with freedom.

I turn back toward Declan.

“Don't come any closer.”

He remains in the doorway.

For several seconds, neither of us speaks.

Then I notice the silver chain around his neck. A wedding ring hangs from it, catching the light as he moves.

My gaze settles on the ring.

“Is that yours?”

He follows my eyes and closes his fingers around it.

“No.”

I look at him, confused.

“Then whose is it?”

“Yours.”

My breath catches.

“Why are you carrying my wedding ring?”

“Because you gave it to me.”

“When?”

“Six years ago.”

I shake my head.

“Stop lying to me.”

His expression tightens, but he doesn't raise his voice.

“I wish I were lying.”

For the first time, I notice how tired he looks. There are shadows beneath his eyes, and his face carries the strain of someone who has spent far too long waiting for something that never came.

I don't know what to make of it.

He could be telling the truth.

Or he could be a very convincing liar.

Either possibility terrifies me.

“Why do you keep calling me Evie?” I ask.

“Because that's your name.”

“My name is Beatrice Ashford.”

“That's the name you were using when I found you.”

The words settle between us.

“When you found me?” I repeat. “What does that mean?”

He looks toward the corridor, as though debating whether to tell me more.

“Not tonight.”

“You can't keep answering my questions like that!”

“I can, and I will. Not because I enjoy watching you suffer, but because you need to understand that something happened to you. Something serious.”

I stare at him.

“And you think kidnapping me will help?”

“No,” he admits. “But letting you walk away without knowing the truth won't help either.”

I have no answer.

He steps back from the doorway.

“Get some rest. We'll be in Dublin soon.”

“I won't stay with you forever.”

He pauses before leaving.

“No,” he says quietly. “You won't.”

I cannot tell whether he means I will eventually remember my past or find a way to escape.

Before I can ask, he closes the door.

The lock clicks into place.

I rush toward it and twist the handle.

It doesn't move.

I pound on the door with both fists.

“Let me out!”

No one answers.

Eventually, I back away and sink onto the edge of the bed. My hands are shaking, and the cold has settled deep into my bones.

My wedding dress is ruined. My wedding is over. Harvey is somewhere behind me, and I have no idea whether he is safe.

And now there is a man who claims to be my husband, a little girl who supposedly calls me her mother, and a past that feels as though it belongs to someone else.

I close my eyes, trying to remember.

A face.

A voice.

A place I once called home.

Anything.

Nothing comes.

Only a strange, hollow ache remains, as if my mind has forgotten something my heart is still struggling to hold on to.

I press a hand against my chest.

Who was I before tonight?

Who is Declan Callahan?

And why does he look at me as though losing me once has destroyed his entire world?

I have no answers.

But I know I cannot trust him simply because he claims to know me.

If the life he describes really existed, I need to discover what happened to it.

And if he is lying, I need to find out why.

Either way, I will not let him write the rest of my story for me.