Chapter 1

I found the document by accident. Aiden was away, and I was looking for my mother' s old earrings in the safe when my fingers brushed against a thick, unfamiliar file folder. It wasn't mine.

It was the "Herrera Family Trust," and the primary beneficiary of Aiden' s massive fortune wasn't me, his wife of seven years. It was a five-year-old boy named Leo Herrera, and his legal guardian, listed as the secondary beneficiary, was Haven Herrera-my adopted sister-in-law.

My family lawyer confirmed it an hour later. It was real. Ironclad. Established five years ago. The phone slipped from my hand. A cold numbness spread through me. Seven years. I had spent seven years justifying Aiden's madness, his rages, his possessiveness, believing it was a twisted part of his love.

I stumbled through the cold, silent mansion to the east wing, drawn by the sound of laughter. Through the glass doors, I saw them: Aiden, bouncing Leo on his knee, Haven beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. And with them, smiling and cooing at the child, were Aiden's parents. My in-laws. They were a perfect family.

"Aiden, the final transfer of the Knox assets into Leo' s trust is complete," his father said, raising a glass of champagne. "It's all airtight now."

"Good," Aiden replied, his voice calm. "Charlotte's family money should have always belonged to a true Herrera heir."

My inheritance. My family's legacy. Transferred to his secret son. My own money, used to secure the future of his betrayal. They had all known. They had all conspired. His rage, his paranoia, his sickness-it wasn't for everyone. It was a special hell he had reserved just for me.

I backed away from the door, my body cold as ice. I ran back to our bedroom, the one we had shared for seven years, and locked the door. I looked at my reflection, at the ghost of the woman I used to be. A quiet vow formed on my lips, silent but absolute.

"Aiden Herrera," I whispered to the empty room. "I will never see you again."

Chapter 1

I found the document by accident. Aiden was away, and I was looking for my mother' s old earrings in the safe, the ones he insisted on keeping for "protection." My fingers brushed against a thick, unfamiliar file folder. It wasn't mine.

Curiosity got the better of me. I pulled it out. "Herrera Family Trust," the label read. I opened it. The legal language was dense, but the names were clear. My name, Charlotte Knox, was there. But it wasn't at the top.

The primary beneficiary of Aiden' s massive fortune wasn't me, his wife of seven years. It was a five-year-old boy named Leo Herrera. And his legal guardian, listed as the secondary beneficiary, was Haven Herrera.

My adopted sister-in-law.

I read the lines again and again. It didn't make sense. I called our family lawyer, my voice trembling.

"Can you verify a trust document for me?"

He confirmed it an hour later. It was real. Ironclad. Established five years ago.

The phone slipped from my hand. A cold numbness spread through me, starting from my chest and reaching the tips of my fingers. Seven years. I had spent seven years justifying Aiden's madness.

Aiden Herrera. A tech genius, a self-made mogul, and my husband. He was also a man with a sickness festering in his mind. Intermittent Explosive Disorder, the doctors called it. IED. It meant he could be brilliant and charming one moment, and a storm of pure rage the next.

The rages were terrifying. A misplaced book, a phone call I didn't answer fast enough, a glance from another man that lasted a second too long-any of it could set him off. He never hit my face. He was too smart for that. He would grab my arms, his fingers digging into my skin, leaving bruises I' d have to cover with long sleeves for days. He' d punch walls, shatter glass, his voice a roar that made the whole house shake.

Once, he threw a heavy crystal ashtray. It wasn't aimed at me, but it missed my head by inches and shattered against the wall. A shard of glass ricocheted and sliced open my forearm. The scar was still there, a thin white line.

The aftermath was always the same. The rage would vanish, replaced by a devastating, self-destructive guilt. He would see the terror in my eyes, the cut on my arm, and his face would crumble. He would punch the wall again, this time to punish himself, bloodying his own knuckles.

"I'm a monster, Lottie. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I would be the one to clean his wounds, my own pain forgotten. I felt his agony as if it were mine. He was sick, not evil. He loved me, I told myself. This was just a twisted, painful part of that love.

So I learned to adapt. I became his anchor. I kept his world calm and predictable. I screened his calls, managed his schedule, and learned to read the subtle shifts in his mood like a sailor reads the weather. I gave up my career, my friends, my life, all to build a safe harbor for him.

But his sickness was a tide that always rose. His paranoia grew. The explosions became more frequent. The guilt that followed became more extreme.

He started hurting himself more seriously. One night, after a terrible fight over a dinner invitation he thought I accepted just to defy him, he locked himself in the bathroom. I heard a choked sound and broke down the door. He had tried to hang himself with his belt.

I held him, sobbing, as he clung to me like a drowning man. We spent the rest of the night on the cold tile floor. I remembered our childhood. We grew up next door to each other. He was always the intense, quiet boy who watched over me. He' d beat up a bully who pushed me on the playground. He' d sit on my porch for hours, just to make sure I got home safe.

His possessiveness was suffocating, but it was all I had ever known from him. He once tracked down a boy who asked me to the prom and threatened him so badly the boy moved schools. At the time, I was scared, but also felt a strange, dark thrill. He cared that much.

He would buy me anything, do anything for me, as long as it kept me in his orbit. His attention was a sun that was either warming me or burning me alive. But I believed, I truly believed, that underneath the sickness, his love for me was real. It was the foundation of our entire world.

The pain of it all was immense, but the thought of him suffering alone was worse. I couldn't abandon him. I couldn't give up on us.

So I proposed a deal. Two years ago, after his suicide attempt, I laid out new rules. He could have his rages, but he had to keep them away from me. He would get therapy. And the most important rule, the one I made him swear on his life: No matter what, no matter how angry or paranoid he got, he would never, ever be with another woman. Infidelity was the one line he could not cross.

He fought it at first. He raged, he begged, he tried to manipulate me. But I held firm. Eventually, he agreed.

For a while, it seemed to work. The rages happened when I wasn't home. He saw his therapist. I thought we had found a way to survive. I thought his love for me was, in its own broken way, absolute. I thought his obsession, his possessiveness, was proof that he could never want anyone else.

Now I knew the truth. He had broken the one promise that held our fragile world together. He had a child. With Haven.

Haven, the sweet, fragile girl he' d insisted his family adopt years ago. Haven, who I had donated a kidney to when hers failed, saving her life. The irony was a bitter poison in my throat.

I felt a dizzying wave of nausea. I stumbled out of the study, my mind a blank, and walked through the cold, silent mansion. My feet carried me, without conscious thought, to the east wing. To Haven' s suite of rooms.

The sound of laughter stopped me at the end of the hall. It was coming from the sunroom. I crept closer, my heart pounding a sick, heavy beat against my ribs.

Through the glass doors, I saw them. It was a private birthday party for Leo. Aiden was there, bouncing the little boy on his knee. Haven was beside him, her head resting on Aiden' s shoulder. And sitting with them, smiling and cooing at the child, were Aiden's parents. My in-laws.

They were a perfect family.

I pressed my ear to the door, my breath catching in my chest.

"Aiden, the final transfer of the Knox assets into Leo' s trust is complete," his father said, raising a glass of champagne. "It's all airtight now."

"Good," Aiden replied, his voice calm. "Charlotte's family money should have always belonged to a true Herrera heir."

My inheritance. My family's legacy. Transferred to his secret son. My own money, used to secure the future of his betrayal. They had all known. They had all conspired.

Just then, Leo, laughing, smeared a handful of chocolate cake all over the front of Aiden' s pristine white shirt.

I flinched, bracing for the explosion. This was a classic trigger. An unexpected mess. A disruption. I had seen him tear a room apart for less.

But Aiden didn't explode. He didn't even flinch. He just chuckled, a low, gentle sound. He took a napkin and carefully, tenderly, wiped the chocolate from his shirt, and then from his son's face.

"You're a messy little monster, aren't you?" he murmured, kissing the top of Leo's head.

The gentleness of that act shattered me more than any violence ever could. His rage, his paranoia, his sickness-it wasn't for everyone. It was a special hell he had reserved just for me.

His mother looked at him, her eyes filled with pride. "He's your son, through and through. Thank God Haven had the sense to keep this from Charlotte until Leo was old enough."

Aiden nodded, his gaze fixed on the child. "The trust is set. He's my heir. Nothing can change that."

He was a different man with them. A stranger. The man I had spent years trying to save, the man I thought I understood, didn't exist. He had never existed.

I backed away from the door, my body cold as ice. I ran. I ran back to our bedroom, the one we had shared for seven years, and locked the door.

I walked to the en-suite bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. I didn't recognize the woman staring back at me. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow. I turned on the faucet and scrubbed my hands, trying to wash away the feeling of his touch, the memory of his lies. I scrubbed until my skin was raw.

It was over. Everything was over.

I looked at my reflection, at the ghost of the woman I used to be. A quiet vow formed on my lips, silent but absolute.

"Aiden Herrera," I whispered to the empty room. "I will never see you again."