Chapter 1 - THE WEDDING NIGHT MIRROR
The first thing my husband said after our wedding was not that I was beautiful.
It was, “Your father made me sign a very strange agreement.”
I was standing in front of the bedroom mirror with both hands trembling over the white bandages that had covered my face since the day I was born.
For twenty-six years, I had believed that beneath those layers was something horrible.
Something frightening.
Something people were not supposed to see.
My father had taught me that belief before I could even speak.
“Never remove them.”
“Never let strangers touch them.”
“Never ask why.”
Whenever I cried, he told me he was protecting me.
Whenever I begged to look into a mirror, he told me mirrors could destroy a person's confidence.
Whenever I asked about other children, he reminded me that I should be grateful for the life I had.
So I became grateful.
Or, at least, I became quiet.
That night, for the first time in my life, I had no reason to obey him.
My wedding was over.
My father had returned to his estate.
His guards were gone.
The servants had been dismissed.
The enormous mansion outside the bedroom belonged to my husband now.
Julian Hart.
The son of the man who had been my father's greatest corporate rival.
Our wedding had united two financial empires.
Everyone called it a brilliant merger.
Nobody asked whether the bride and groom were in love.
Julian certainly hadn't.
He had been polite.
Distant.
Professional.
And surprisingly honest.
“I don't know why your father wanted me to marry you,” he told me earlier that evening.
“What did he tell you?”
“That the marriage would stabilize several companies.”
I had laughed bitterly.
“That sounds like him.”
Julian had smiled.
But now, standing by the balcony, he looked at me differently.
“You're going to remove them.”
I nodded.
“I think I finally want to know.”
He didn't stop me.
That surprised me.
I pulled away the first bandage.
Then the second.
Then another.
My hands shook harder with every layer.
I waited for pain.
For scars.
For deformity.
For the face I had feared since childhood.
Instead, the final bandage slipped away.
I raised my head.
And stopped breathing.
The woman in the mirror stared back at me.
Smooth skin.
High cheekbones.
Large dark eyes.
Long black hair.
A face that looked almost unreal.
I touched my cheek.
The reflection copied me.
“No.”
Julian turned.
He saw me.
And froze.
“What?”
He didn't answer.
“Julian?”
He walked toward me slowly.
“You didn't know?”
“Know what?”
He stared at my face.
“Your father told me you had a severe facial deformity.”
I laughed once.
A broken, confused sound.
“He told me the same thing.”
Julian looked toward the door.
Then back at me.
“That explains the agreement.”
“What agreement?”
He took a folded document from his jacket.
“Your father made me sign this before the wedding.”
I read it.
It stated that Julian could not see my face before the marriage.
He couldn't photograph me without permission.
He could not disclose information about my identity.
And if my father died before certain conditions were completed, Julian would become the temporary administrator of assets connected to me.
I stared at the final page.
“Why would I need an administrator?”
Julian didn't answer.
My phone suddenly rang.
Father.
I answered immediately.
“You removed them.”
It wasn't a question.
“Yes.”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“Then listen carefully.”
“What?”
“Do not leave the house.”
“Why?”
“Because now that your face is visible, people will come looking for you.”
My heart stopped.
“What people?”
He hung up.
I lowered the phone.
Julian was staring at me.
“What did he say?”
I repeated his words.
Julian walked toward the window.
A black car sat beyond the gates.
No headlights.
No driver visible.
It had been there since the wedding.
He closed the curtains.
“Your father wasn't afraid people would be frightened by your face.”
“Then what was he afraid of?”
Julian turned toward me.
“Someone recognizing you.”
A chill moved through my body.
“Recognizing me as what?”
He looked at the mirror.
“I don't know.”
I touched my uncovered face again.
For twenty-six years, I had thought my father was hiding an ugliness.
Now I realized he might have been hiding an identity.
May you like
And if that was true, then the bandages had never been a punishment.
They had been camouflage.
