Chapter 1

I was the wife of a tech mogul I' d built from nothing. I even hired his new assistant, a woman who looked just like his dead mother, thinking I was giving him a piece of his past back.

Then I discovered the truth. He wasn't just sleeping with her-she was pregnant with his son. And for months, the prenatal vitamins he lovingly gave me every morning were nothing but sugar pills.

The shock of their betrayal caused me to miscarry our first child.

They painted me as a crazy, violent heiress, took my family's company, and left me with nothing but the ashes of the life he'd promised me.

But as I stood in our home, ready to burn it all down with me inside, I discovered a miracle: I was pregnant again.

I faked my death and disappeared.

Five years later, he walked into the quiet inn I now own with his family. And his eyes landed on my daughter.

Chapter 1

The doctor's words spun around me, a cruel echo in the sterile room. Dax had a three-year-old son with his executive assistant, Charley Hood. The world tilted, then crashed. That same morning, a tiny flutter deep inside me had whispered a promise of new life. Now, it felt like a sick cosmic joke.

My hands trembled as I walked out of the clinic, the city's noise a dull roar against the silence in my head. I drove without direction, the Hamptons estate, our home, pulling me like a magnet. Not for comfort, but for a final, desperate act. I would burn it all down. Burn away the lies, the betrayal, the woman I had been.

The flames licked the night sky, a ravenous beast consuming what was once mine. I watched from a distance, the heat a strange comfort against the chill in my bones. No one knew I was pregnant, no one would look for me. This was my escape. My death. My rebirth.

Five years later, the scent of pine and wood smoke filled my lungs, a familiar balm. The Vermont air was crisp, clean, so different from the humid New York summers. My inn, "The Haven," was exactly that. A sanctuary.

"Mommy, look!" Emma's voice, sweet and clear, pulled me back to the present. She pointed at a glossy brochure on the counter. "The fancy new guests are here!"

I glanced down, and my breath hitched. Dax Roth. His name, stark and bold, stared back at me from the guest registration. My world, so carefully rebuilt, shattered into a million pieces. He was here. With his family.

My gaze snapped to the lobby entrance. He stood there, taller, broader, a silver streak at his temples that hadn't been there five years ago. He was laughing, the sound like a rusty blade scraping against my soul.

His eyes, those impossibly blue eyes, swept across the lobby, then landed on me. He froze. The laugh died on his lips, replaced by a look of utter disbelief. Recognition, a flicker of it, passed through his eyes.

I kept my face blank, a practiced mask. "Welcome to The Haven, sir," I said, my voice steady, betraying nothing. "How can I help you?"

He took a step forward, then another, his focus unwavering. "Alysa?" His voice was a whisper, a ghost from a past I had buried alive.

"I'm sorry," I replied, my smile tight and formal. "You must have me confused with someone else. My name is Alice, Alice Reed."

He blinked, his brow furrowed. "But... you look exactly like her."

"A common face, I suppose," I said, my gaze pointedly dropping to his family. A woman stood beside him, her hand linked through his arm. Charley. Her eyes, narrowed and assessing, met mine. A wedding ring glittered on her finger.

"I wish you and your family a pleasant stay, Mr. Roth," I said, my voice dripping with an irony I hoped only he would catch. "Enjoy Vermont."

Dax hesitated, his eyes still raking over me, searching for something. He looked uncertain, lost. It was a look I had never seen on him before.

Then, a small boy, no older than five, darted from behind Charley, clinging to her leg. "Mommy, I'm hungry!"

Charley smiled, a saccharine sweetness that made my stomach churn. "We'll get you some snacks, darling." She looked at Dax, then back at me. Her smile faltered slightly.

"Dax, dear?" she prompted, her voice lilting. "Are you alright?"

He tore his eyes from me, shaking his head slightly. "Yes, just... it's nothing." He turned to Charley, a carefully constructed tenderness in his eyes. A tenderness I once thought was mine.

Charley glanced at me again, her expression shifting from curiosity to something colder. She tightened her grip on Dax's arm. It was a warning, a claim.

Just then, three-year-old Emma, my Emma, skipped into the lobby from the back room, her bright pink backpack bouncing. "Mommy, can we go to the playground now?"

Dax's head snapped up. His eyes, fixed on Emma, widened. The color drained from his face. He looked at Emma, then at me, then back at Emma, a terrifying question forming in their blue depths. His jaw clenched, and a small, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his hand.

"Who... who is she?" he asked, his voice barely a breath. The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken terror.