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In Cordelia's marriage, she is the other woman. First, it was to the memory of her sister, Angelica, the woman who should have been his bride. And now, she is still only second best, cast aside for any pretty face that reminds him of his lost love. After five years of marriage, and one night of passion that turned into heartbreak, she gains the strength to start over on her own. But there are things about her marriage that she never knew. Strange things are happening all around her and it turns out that she has bigger skeletons in her closet than the ones she put there herself. What really happened to Angelica? And what will she do, once she learns the truth? ________ The first time our eyes met my heart stopped. “Hello,” I smiled in his direction, “My name is Cordelia Grayson.” His returning smile was hesitant, uncertain, and small. “Atlas Steele.” He was beautiful with his golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. I could tell he was a little too old for me, but I have always been attracted to older boys. His age didn't discourage me, if anything I think it made him even more dashing. And from that moment on my heart was his. Utterly and completely. Unfortunately it was not my heart that he wanted to hold. When he raised his gaze to mine a second time, his eyes skipped over my face to focus on someone standing behind me. I turned to look. It was my sister. He asked me if I knew her. I could tell he was more interested in her than he was in me, and even though it hurt to do it, I nodded in confirmation. “That's my sister, Angelica.” “Angelica,” he said her name slowly, savoring each syllable.

I was the girl no one noticed. Until I opened File Case No. 0001. Azrael Atlas St. Claire. They call him “The Architect.” A ghost. A cold-blooded killer. A man so dangerous the FBI can’t touch. His death would shatter the economy. Rival syndicates would burn the city to kill him. He has no weakness. Then he found me. He appeared in my archive and vanished without a trace. The next morning, gifts started appearing on my nightstand. First, a bullet coated in dried blood. Second, ten fingers belonging to the man who touched me. He watched. Followed. Stalked my every move. Then one night, he came through my window. He took what he wanted while I floated in haze. I woke up sore, terrified…and craving for more—needing for more. The FBI saw a fracture in me, and decided to weaponize it. They wired me. Made me their spy with a promised I’d be safe if I helped them cage the monster. Yet, at the first sign of blood, they ran. Leaved me in chaos. He stayed. Now, I lived in his world. My mother thinks the lawyer at her table is a kind stranger. She didn’t feel his hand between my thighs underneath. She doesn’t know he’s been sculpting my life for years, long before we ever met. The FBI wants me to betray him. His enemies want me dead for revenge. But the monster who stole my life? He’s the only one who ever truly saw me. And I’m starting to wonder if that makes me just as dangerous as him. They say there’s a line between the victim and the villain. I don’t think I’m on the right side anymore.