Chapter 1 - The Wedding Night

—Don’t touch me!

Emilia’s scream cut through the enormous bedroom.

Daniel stopped immediately.

His hand remained suspended in the air for a second before slowly dropping to his side.

He did not look angry.

That surprised her.

She had expected rage.

Humiliation.

Perhaps even a reminder that he had paid for her father’s operation and therefore believed she owed him something.

Instead, Daniel took two steps backward.

—All right.

His voice was calm.

Emilia pressed herself against the edge of a marble table.

—What?

—I said all right.

Daniel turned away.

For the first time since the wedding ceremony, Emilia looked directly at him.

The right side of his face was hidden beneath thick, uneven scar tissue running from his temple to his jaw. The skin around one eye appeared rigid. His cheek was distorted enough that his mouth pulled slightly to one side.

Every rumor she had heard about him suddenly seemed real.

But there was something strange about the way he stood.

He looked tired.

Not offended.

Just tired.

Daniel walked toward a cabinet beside the fireplace and removed a folder.

He placed it on the table between them.

—Read it.

Emilia hesitated.

—What is it?

—Your freedom.

She stared at him.

Daniel opened the folder.

Inside were legal documents.

She recognized her own name.

Then his.

At the top of one page:

POSTNUPTIAL SEPARATION AGREEMENT.

Emilia looked up sharply.

—What is this?

—The marriage exists legally. That was necessary for the agreement with your family.

Her face tightened.

—Necessary?

Daniel nodded.

—But nothing in that agreement gives me the right to your body.

Emilia said nothing.

He continued.

—Your father’s operation was paid this afternoon. His hospital has confirmation. Your parents’ mortgage was cleared yesterday. The remaining debts have also been settled.

She felt the room tilt.

—And if I sign this?

—You may live in another part of the house. Or elsewhere, if you prefer.

—And my family?

—Nothing changes.

She stared at him.

—You would still pay?

—I already did.

—Why?

Something flickered across Daniel’s expression.

—Because a bargain made under desperation is not consent.

Emilia could barely speak.

For days she had imagined this night.

She had imagined him approaching her.

Demanding affection.

Reminding her what he had purchased.

She had spent the entire wedding ceremony trying not to tremble.

Now the man everyone had described as terrifying was offering her a way out.

Daniel turned toward the door.

—I’ll sleep in the east wing.

—Wait.

He stopped.

Emilia swallowed.

—Then why marry me at all?

Silence.

Daniel did not turn around immediately.

When he finally did, his scarred face seemed even harder to read.

—Because someone demanded that I marry before my forty-sixth birthday.

—Who?

—My father.

—Your father is dead.

—Yes.

Daniel looked toward the folder.

—But his will is very much alive.

Emilia stared.

Daniel walked back.

“My father left control of the Beaumont Foundation to me under one condition. I had to be legally married before forty-six.”

—You’re telling me this marriage was about inheritance?

—Partly.

Anger began replacing fear.

—So you used me.

Daniel did not defend himself.

—Yes.

The honesty stunned her.

—You found a desperate woman whose father was dying.

—Yes.

—And offered money.

—Yes.

—That is horrible.

—Yes.

His answers only made her angrier.

—Then why are you standing there pretending to be noble?

His eyes hardened.

—I’m not.

Silence.

Daniel spoke more quietly.

—I needed a wife. You needed money. I offered a transaction. I won’t pretend it was romantic.

He looked toward the door.

—But I also won’t turn one ugly decision into something worse.

Emilia’s anger faltered.

Daniel picked up another document.

—There is one more thing.

He handed it to her.

It was not a contract.

It was a hospital report.

Her father’s name appeared at the top.

SURGERY SUCCESSFUL. PATIENT STABLE.

Emilia covered her mouth.

—He’s alive?

Daniel nodded.

—The surgeon called fifteen minutes ago.

Tears came instantly.

She sank onto the edge of the bed.

For days she had lived with the possibility that she might sacrifice everything and still lose her father.

Daniel remained several feet away.

He made no attempt to comfort her.

Perhaps because she had told him not to touch her.

That, more than anything, made her look at him differently.

—Thank you.

He lowered his eyes.

—Don’t thank me yet.

Emilia frowned.

Daniel’s expression became strange.

Almost fearful.

—Because there is something else you need to know about this marriage.

—What?

He slowly reached toward the scarred side of his face.

Emilia froze.

His fingers found an almost invisible edge near his ear.

Then he pulled.

The “scar tissue” moved.

Emilia stopped breathing.

Daniel peeled away a thin prosthetic layer.

Then another.

The grotesquely damaged cheek disappeared.

Underneath was completely healthy skin.

A perfectly ordinary face.

No burns.

No terrible disease.

Nothing.

Emilia staggered backward.

—What…?

Daniel placed the prosthetic on the table.

The man standing before her looked nothing like the billionaire she had married hours earlier.

Emilia stared at him in absolute horror.

Not because he was disfigured.

Because he wasn’t.

—Your face…

—Was never burned.

—Then why?

Daniel looked directly at her.

—Because twelve years ago, someone tried to kill me.

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A pause.

—And the only reason I survived was because the world believed the wrong man came out of that fire.