Chapter 1

"I'm sorry, Ms. Fuller, but this marriage certificate is a forgery."

The county clerk's words hit me like a physical blow. I stared at the cheap, flimsy paper in my hand, the one from our Las Vegas trip five years ago. The one Ethan swore was real.

"And," the clerk continued, her voice filled with a detached pity, "according to our records, Mr. Ethan Lester is already legally married. To a Ms. Maria Roberts."

The name Maria Roberts echoed in my head. It was a painful memory from five years back, right after Ethan's skiing accident. He'd had amnesia, and when we finally found him, he was living with her. He claimed he couldn't remember anything about that time and had cut all ties with her the moment his memory returned.

I thought we had moved past it. We had built a life together, a seven-year relationship, five of which I believed were a common-law marriage. We were raising a son, Leo. We were supposed to be finalizing my legal status as his mother for an international adoption.

Now, I was just... single.

I drove home in a daze, the world outside my car a blurry, meaningless film. The house was quiet when I walked in. Too quiet. I was about to call out for Ethan when I heard voices from the study.

It was Ethan and our mutual friend, Andrew Hughes.

"You can't keep this up, Ethan," Andrew's voice was low but firm. "You're destroying her."

"What choice do I have?" Ethan's voice was strained, the charismatic venture capitalist I knew replaced by someone desperate. "Maria tried to kill herself after the accident. She's fragile. The marriage is the only thing keeping her stable."

My blood ran cold.

"And what about Jocelyn?" Andrew pressed. "What about the fact that Leo is your biological son with Maria? You let Jocelyn raise him, love him as her own, without telling her the truth."

I leaned against the wall, my legs threatening to give out. Leo. My sweet, five-year-old Leo. He wasn't mine. He was theirs.

Ethan's next words shattered what was left of my world. "Jocelyn had a miscarriage, remember? It wasn't an accident. I switched her prenatal vitamins. I needed her to be unable to have children. I needed her to agree to adopt Leo. It was the only way to have him with me and keep Maria at a distance."

The air left my lungs. The vitamins. The miscarriage I had blamed myself for, cried over for months. It was him. He had done it.

I stumbled away from the door, my hand clamped over my mouth to stifle a sob. I went to our bedroom, the room we had shared for seven years. I looked at the photos on the nightstand – us smiling, us with Leo. It was all a lie.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Andrew.

"Are you home? Call me. Now."

I stared at the screen, my mind a blank slate of horror. I didn't call. I couldn't. Instead, I walked over to the fireplace. I took down every photo of us, of our "family." I took the fake marriage certificate from my purse.

One by one, I threw them into the cold, empty hearth. Then I found the lighter.

The flames caught quickly, curling the edges of our smiling faces. The heat felt good against my skin, a stark contrast to the ice in my veins. I watched until every last picture turned to black ash.

I cried then, silent tears streaming down my face, not for the love I had lost, but for the fool I had been.

The fire died down, leaving nothing but dust. I wiped my eyes. The grief was gone, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. This wasn't just a breakup. This was a war. And I was a soldier who had forgotten her training.

It was time to remember.