Chapter 1

The late afternoon sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, landing on the pure white silk of the wedding dress. It was custom-made, a creation of impossible detail that had been flown in from Paris. It was beautiful. It was mine.

I stood on the small pedestal in the center of my private dressing room, a space larger than the entire apartment I grew up in before the fire. The seamstress, a small, quiet woman with pins in her mouth, knelt at my feet, making a final adjustment to the hem.

Everything was perfect. Too perfect. A small, cold knot formed in my stomach, a familiar feeling of unease that I had learned to ignore over the years.

The door opened and Daniel Hayes walked in. He was tall and immaculately dressed in a dark grey suit that made his eyes look almost black. He wasn't my uncle, not by blood. He was my guardian, the man who took me in when I was ten years old, my parents gone, my world ashes. He was the man I was going to marry in three weeks.

"Beautiful," he said, his voice a low hum that always made my skin tingle.

He walked over, his expensive leather shoes silent on the plush carpet. He dismissed the seamstress with a slight nod of his head. She gathered her things and left, closing the door softly behind her.

We were alone.

He circled me slowly, his eyes taking in every detail of the dress, of me. His gaze was intense, possessive. It used to make me feel cherished. Now, it just made the knot in my stomach tighten.

"It's perfect," he repeated, stopping in front of me. He reached out and traced the line of my collarbone, his fingers cool against my skin. "You are perfect, Olivia."

I wanted to lean into his touch, to believe his words. I loved him. I had loved him for as long as I could remember, first as a child loves a hero, and then, as I grew older, as a woman loves a man. But something had felt wrong for months. A distance I couldn't name.

His phone buzzed on the small table near the door. He glanced at it, and for a split second, his mask of calm affection slipped. An emotion I couldn't identify flickered in his eyes-annoyance, maybe something darker-before it was gone.

He stepped away from me, breaking the connection. "I have to take this."

He walked toward the door, turning his back to me. His voice was low, and I couldn't hear the words, but the tone was different from how he spoke to me. It was sharper, impatient.

I stayed on the pedestal, the heavy silk of the dress suddenly feeling like a cage. My body felt stiff, my hands cold. The sun had shifted, and the room was now in shadow.

He ended the call and turned back to me, a smile fixed on his face again. But it didn't reach his eyes. His eyes were somewhere else entirely.

"You look tired, Olivia. You should get some rest."

It wasn't a suggestion. It was a command.

"The wedding is soon. I need you to be at your best." He walked over, kissed my forehead lightly. It felt like a brand. "Be a good girl."

He left, the door clicking shut behind him. I stood there for a long time, the silence of the room pressing in on me. I finally stepped off the pedestal, the dress rustling around me. My eyes fell on the table where he'd been standing.

His phone. He'd forgotten it.

It was face down. My heart started to pound, a sick, frantic rhythm against my ribs. I knew I shouldn't. It was his privacy. He was the man I was about to promise my life to.

But the cold knot in my stomach was now a twisting serpent of dread. I couldn't stop myself.

My hand trembled as I picked it up. The screen lit up. It was a message preview on the lock screen. I didn't need to unlock it to see the name.

Sarah.

Beneath the name was a picture. A woman with a bright, confident smile, her hair the same dark shade as mine. She was holding the hand of a small boy who was grinning at the camera. The message read: "Kev and I are waiting. Don't be late."

The phone slipped from my fingers and landed silently on the thick carpet. I stared at it, at the smiling faces of the woman and the child.

My world, so carefully constructed, so perfectly arranged, tilted on its axis. The air left my lungs in a rush, and the room started to spin.