Chapter 1: The Wife Who Never Was

Moonlight drifted through the bedroom, turning everything soft and silver.

Adrian Mercer dreamed of Rosalie Hayes again.

For five years, dreams had been the only place she agreed to stay.

Her dark curls spilled across the pillow. When he bent to kiss her, she turned away at first. Two breaths later, she came back on her own, winding her arms around his neck.

Adrian paused.

“I thought you didn’t want me to kiss you.”

Rosalie kept her eyes closed and tucked herself closer against him.

She had always been like this. Fearless while arguing with him, then quick to hide in his arms once he pushed her too far.

He laughed under his breath and kissed her again.

Her hand tightened on his shoulder. The ring on her left hand brushed the back of his neck, cool against his heated skin. Moonlight caught on the narrow band.

Their wedding ring.

She had designed it herself. When she finally showed it to him, she had pretended his answer didn’t matter.

Of course he had loved it.

He loved everything she gave him.

Adrian kissed the ring, then traced his mouth over her knuckles. Rosalie squirmed and tried to pull away.

“Adrian…”

“I’m here.”

His voice was low, and his grip stayed firm.

He wanted to take his time. Perhaps then morning would never come.

Then Rosalie opened her eyes.

She looked up at him, then leaned in and pressed her lips to his throat.

His breathing changed.

“Rosie.”

It was a warning.

She ignored it. Adrian caught her around the waist and lifted her. She gasped, then bit his shoulder.

He let her.

“You started this,” he murmured. “Why are you biting me?”

Her answer dissolved into a breathless sound.

Their shadows moved across the bed. Eventually Rosalie braced both hands against his shoulders and tried to push him away.

He barely moved.

“Adrian…” Her voice had gone soft with complaint. “Stop.”

He looked down at her, knowing exactly what she meant.

“Are you calling my name?”

She shut her eyes and refused to answer.

He kissed her burning earlobe. “Hold on a little longer. We need to work on your stamina.”

Rosalie covered his mouth with her hand.

He laughed, pulled it away, and laced their fingers together. Their matching rings touched with a faint click.

Much later, the room grew quiet.

Rosalie lay across his chest, too tired to open her eyes. Adrian held her as the woman in his arms became painfully clear.

He buried his face in her hair and tightened his hold.

“Rosie.”

“Mm?”

She was nearly asleep, but she answered.

“Are you going to leave me again?”

Silence.

His heart dropped.

“Rosalie?”

He closed his arms around her—and found nothing.

She was gone. The sheets were tangled where she had been, and even her warmth was disappearing.

Adrian woke with a violent start.

Dawn had barely touched the windows. Sweat dampened his hair, and the desire from the dream still burned beneath a rising fury.

“Fuck.”

Five years. He had been having versions of the same dream for five years.

He threw back the covers and crossed the cold floor barefoot. The bathroom door slammed behind him.

The shower came on. Soon, a strained breath broke through the rush of water.

Adrian emerged half an hour later with a black towel around his waist. His body had calmed. His mood had not.

Inside his dressing room, he opened a navy velvet box kept apart from everything else.

A man’s wedding band rested inside.

New York society believed the CEO of Mercer Biotech had married in secret. No one had ever identified his wife.

The truth was simpler.

Adrian had never made it to the wedding.

He had worn the ring anyway.

His thumb passed over the letters engraved inside the band.

R.H.

Rosalie Hayes.

At 8:40 a.m., a black sedan entered the underground garage at Mercer Biotech’s Manhattan headquarters.

Evan Brooks, Adrian’s executive assistant, waited beside the private elevator with a tablet in hand.

“Good morning, Mr. Mercer.”

Adrian acknowledged him and stepped inside.

“The Phase 3 closeout meeting for JS-01 is at nine thirty,” Evan began. “Northstar’s manufacturing team will be here at eleven to finalize commercial production. Regulatory Affairs has the NDA filing review scheduled for three.”

Adrian adjusted one cuff. “Tonight?”

“The leukemia research benefit starts at seven. You’re attending on behalf of the Mercer Foundation and presenting the donation.” Evan glanced at his screen. “TÉRA is providing the centerpiece for the charity auction. They’ve asked for an official photograph of you with the designer afterward.”

“No.”

Evan had expected that answer.

For five years, Adrian had refused to pose alone with women. At every public appearance, he displayed his wedding band with deliberate clarity. The press called him devoted, strange, or hopelessly controlled by a wife no one had met.

Only Evan knew there was no wife.

Adrian was still waiting for the woman who should have been wearing the matching ring.

The elevator reached the top floor. Adrian walked out while Evan opened the designer profile attached to TÉRA’s latest email.

Mira, twenty-seven. BFA in Jewelry and Metalsmithing from the Rhode Island School of Design, followed by advanced study in high jewelry design in Paris. Winner of the Aurora International High Jewelry Award for her collection, Caged Spring. Currently a senior designer at TÉRA.

No legal name. No portrait.

The final attachment showed the piece created for that evening’s auction.

A rose caught halfway into bloom.

Evan stared at it, unsettled by a familiarity he couldn’t place. He almost called after Adrian, but the office door had already closed.

He decided it could wait.