Chapter 1

In New York society, I was an object of envy, the woman who had it all. My name is Ava Riley, and for five years, I was married to Liam Carter, the tech genius whose innovations were changing the world. To the public, he was brilliant and reserved, but to me, he was the most devoted husband a woman could ask for. He was my world, especially since my world was shrouded in darkness, I was legally blind.

Everyone saw the perfect picture, Liam guiding me through glamorous charity galas, his hand always securely on my arm, his voice a low, steady murmur in my ear describing the glitter and the gold I couldn't see. They saw him cutting my food at dinner parties, a simple act of care that made other women sigh with longing. They didn't see what I felt, the unwavering consistency of his love, a love that was most present in the quiet darkness of our bedroom.

Every single night, without fail, our marriage was consummated. He was a creature of habit, his touch firm and precise. He would come to me after I was settled in bed, and his hands would begin their work. It was a ritual, a silent, passionate dance that left me breathless and feeling cherished. Afterwards, he would carry me to the bathroom, the cool tile a shock against my heated skin, and he would personally, meticulously, clean me with a warm cloth. He never spoke during these moments, but I didn't need words. His actions screamed devotion. I believed I was the luckiest woman alive, loved by a man who took care of my every need, a man who saw me when I couldn't even see myself.

Tonight was no different. The familiar weight settled on the bed, the mattress dipping beside me. The scent of his clean, masculine soap filled my senses. His hands began their journey over my skin, firm, knowing, and practiced. I arched into his touch, my body responding to the familiar rhythm. My world was a tapestry of sensation, the feel of the silk sheets, the sound of his breathing, the pressure of his body against mine. I gave myself over to it completely, lost in the illusion of love.

Then, something happened.

A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my head, a pain so intense it felt like my skull was splitting open. I cried out, my hands flying to my temples. A kaleidoscope of colors exploded behind my eyelids, violent and overwhelming. It was a shock to a system that had known only shades of gray and black for five long years. The pressure built, and then, as suddenly as it came, it receded.

My eyelids fluttered open.

For the first time in half a decade, I could see.

The light in the room was dim, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. My vision was blurry, like looking through a rain-streaked window, but it was there. And it was focused on the thing above me.

My breath caught in my throat, a strangled, silent scream that never made it out.

It wasn't Liam.

The body on top of me was perfectly formed, the muscles defined, the skin smooth and flawless. But it had no face. Where eyes, a nose, and a mouth should have been, there was only a blank, seamless expanse of synthetic skin. It was a robot, a humanoid machine of terrifying perfection. Its movements were fluid, its touch was warm, but it was not human. I scrambled away, my back hitting the cold, hard headboard. The robot stilled, its faceless head tilted slightly as if processing my sudden retreat.

A low grunt, a sound I knew intimately, echoed from the other side of the room.

My head snapped in that direction, my newly awakened eyes struggling to adjust to the gloom. There, sprawled on a chaise lounge near the window, was my husband. Liam. He was not alone. He was wrapped around a figure, his arms tight, his face buried in her hair. He was moving with the same rhythm, the same passion I had thought was reserved for me.

The figure in his arms was a woman, or rather, a perfect, lifelike replica of a woman. Even in the dim light, I recognized her face. It was Sophia Carter. His adopted sister.

The truth crashed down on me with the force of a physical blow. Liam had never touched me. Not once in five years of marriage. Every night, every single intimate moment I had cherished, had been a lie. He had sent a machine to my bed, a cold, unfeeling substitute, while he indulged his real desires with a doll. A doll made in the image of his own sister.

The beautiful facade of my life, the envy of New York, the devotion of a perfect husband, it all shattered into a million pieces. The love was never for me. The care, the tenderness, it was all for her, or rather, for his twisted obsession with her. I was just a prop, a convenient, blind placeholder in the sick theater of his life.

Liam finished, a final, shuddering breath escaping his lips. He gently laid the Sophia-replica back on the lounge, his touch full of a reverence he had never, ever shown me. He smoothed her hair, his fingers lingering on the synthetic cheek of the doll. He looked at it with a raw hunger, an adoration that made my stomach turn. He had no idea I was watching. He had no idea his entire world of deceit had just come crashing down. He thought his blind wife was still safely in the dark. But I could see. And what I saw broke me completely.