Chapter 3 3

The dress was silver and whispered when she walked.

Liana stood in front of a three-panel mirror in the mansion's east wing, staring at the stranger in the reflection. Her hair had been pinned into soft waves. Diamond earrings sparkled at her ears. And the gown... it clung to her body like water, smooth and graceful and not hers at all.

She looked like a woman who belonged to someone.

She looked like someone's wife.

Behind her, Thorne's assistant, Clara, handed her a velvet box. "The ring, Mrs. Thorne."

Liana winced at the title, but slipped the band onto her finger.

Heavy.

Too real.

"He won't be attending the gala in person," Clara said, adjusting the strap on her shoulder. "You'll arrive alone. Represent the Thorne name. Smile. Speak little. No personal stories."

"Will anyone expect him to be there?"

Clara hesitated. "Not anymore."

The car arrived ten minutes later. Black. Armored. No driver she recognized. No words spoken as they pulled away from the gates and into a city Liana barely belonged to anymore.

The gala was held in the heart of the high district-at the Thorne Foundation's skyscraper rooftop. It glittered with lights, champagne, and people who'd never missed a meal.

A man in a headset met her at the entrance. "Mrs. Thorne. Right this way."

There was that name again.

She was escorted up a grand staircase, into the center of a world she didn't understand-one where laughter was always rehearsed and handshakes came with conditions.

Her introduction was announced as she stepped onto the platform:

"Mrs. Liana Thorne, wife of Blaise Thorne, attending in his honor tonight."

Heads turned.

Photographers flashed.

Women whispered.

Liana kept her chin high, her smile soft. But inside, her pulse was a war drum.

A woman in gold approached first-petite, elegant, her smile too sharp.

"Mrs. Thorne, we've heard so much about you," she purred.

Liana offered her hand. "And you are...?"

"Celeste Vaughn. Blaise and I used to be very close."

There it was.

The ex.

"You must be very proud," Celeste continued. "Being the woman who finally pulled him out of hiding. We were all so sure he'd become a myth."

Liana smiled sweetly. "Some men are better as myths. Easier to love when they can't speak back."

Celeste's smile faltered for a second before she laughed airily. "How refreshing. You've got a bit of spine."

You'd need one to survive this world.

She moved through the room in practiced grace, remembering Clara's warnings: Speak little. Smile. Don't drink too much. Deflect personal questions.

But by the second hour, people were circling.

"So where did you two meet?"

"How does it feel to be married to a man no one's seen in five years?"

"Is it true he only married you to keep his company?"

Liana just smiled, offering vague answers and sipping water from her champagne glass. The lies were easier now-like slipping into shoes too tight but familiar.

She didn't notice the man watching her from the corner.

Tall. Dressed in midnight black. No drink in his hand. No smile on his face.

He moved like he didn't belong here-but owned the room anyway.

She caught his eyes once.

Just once.

And something in her spine straightened.

The man vanished before she could blink.

Was it him?

No-it couldn't be.

By the time she returned home, her head was spinning-not from wine, but from the weight of everything. Every lie she'd told. Every look she'd received. Every whisper that had trailed behind her like perfume.

She entered the mansion barefoot, heels in hand.

"Good evening, Mrs. Thorne."

She turned sharply.

The curtain in the library was lit by a single floor lamp, the man behind it standing perfectly still.

"You watched me," she accused. "At the gala. I saw you."

"No," he said quietly. "You saw someone else."

"Liar."

He didn't answer.

Liana stepped closer. Her heart thundered. "Why won't you let me see you?"

"I've told you."

"That it's part of the deal. That I'm not allowed. But I think there's more."

The curtain didn't move. His shadow remained motionless. Still. Controlled.

"I think you're afraid," she whispered.

Silence.

Then, softly:

"Yes."

Her breath caught.

He continued, voice lower. "You weren't supposed to handle tonight so well."

"So you did watch me."

"I said I wasn't there. Doesn't mean I didn't see."

Her cheeks warmed. "Is that your thing? Sending your ghost wife into public like a test subject?"

"No. It's just that I needed to know you could survive this world without me."

"I don't want to survive it without you," she said before she could stop herself. "I want to know who I married."

Another pause.

Then the lamp switched off.

Only darkness remained.

She didn't sleep that night either.

Not because she was afraid.

But because, for the first time... she was beginning to wonder if a man with a thousand secrets could still be worth falling for.