Chapter 2

Keira Ellis POV:

I didn't sleep. The image of Axel holding Diana, the scent of her perfume in his secret room, the sound of her sigh over the phone-it all played on a relentless loop in my mind. By morning, a splitting headache was pounding behind my eyes, and my stomach was a tight knot of nausea and grief.

But the tears were gone. In their place was a brittle, icy calm.

The first thing I did was drive to Apex Innovations. Not to work, but to quit. I couldn't spend another second in a building that was a monument to his success, a success built on lies that had entangled my life.

I was walking toward the HR department when I saw them.

Axel and Diana were emerging from his private elevator, the one that led directly to his penthouse office. He was wearing a fresh suit, but a white bandage was visible on his forearm. Diana was clinging to his arm, wearing an oversized cashmere sweater that I recognized as one of Axel's. She looked pale and fragile, her eyes red-rimmed, but a smug, possessive light shone in them as she looked up at him.

They were laughing about something, their heads close together. They looked for all the world like a couple, intimate and completely in sync.

Then Axel looked up and saw me.

His smile vanished. He gently detached himself from Diana, his expression becoming guarded, unreadable. He looked at me as if I were a stranger, a minor inconvenience he had to deal with.

"Keira," he said, his voice flat. "What are you doing here?"

Before I could answer, Diana's eyes landed on me. A slow, cruel smile spread across her face. "Well, well. Look what we have here. The little replacement."

She stepped forward, circling me like a predator. "You know," she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, "I can see why he picked you. You have the same hair. The same eyes." She leaned in close, her gaze dropping to the small beauty mark just above my lip. "Even the same little mole. Isn't that just adorable?"

I flinched. That mole...

A memory surfaced. A few months ago, Axel had been tracing my face with his finger. "I love this," he' d whispered, tapping the spot above my lip. "It' s perfect. Don't ever get rid of it." At the time, I' d thought it was a sweet, intimate moment. Now, the memory felt tainted, grotesque.

Diana must have seen the flicker of horror on my face. She laughed, a triumphant sound. "Oh, you didn't know?" she cooed. "Axel has always had a thing for my mole. He says it' s his favorite part of me."

I stared at Axel, my heart pounding a sick rhythm against my ribs. "Is that true?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He didn't answer. He just looked away, his jaw tight. His silence was a confession.

He hadn't loved my features. He had loved their resemblance to hers. He had curated me, piece by piece, into a pale imitation of the woman he truly wanted. The thought was so violating, so deeply humiliating, that I felt bile rise in my throat.

"Leave her alone, Diana," Axel finally said, his voice strained. He took a step toward me. "Keira, let's go to my office and talk."

"Talk?" I found my voice, and it was shaking with rage. "You want to talk? After you spent the night with her? After I find out my entire marriage is based on me being her cheap copy?"

"It's not like that," he said, the words automatic, meaningless.

"Don't lie to me!" I shouted, attracting the attention of employees passing by in the lobby. "Don't you dare lie to me anymore, Axel!"

Diana stepped between us, her eyes flashing. "Don't you raise your voice to him," she hissed. She shoved me hard, sending me stumbling backward.

Instinct took over. I shoved her back, harder. "Get away from me."

The shove seemed to snap something in her. Her face contorted with rage. "You bitch," she screeched. "You think you can touch me?" She snapped her fingers. "Grab her."

Two burly men in suits, her personal bodyguards, moved instantly. They seized my arms, their grips like iron vices. I struggled, but it was useless.

"Diana, stop this," Axel said, his voice sharp, but he made no move to intervene.

"Why should I?" she shot back, her eyes blazing. "She needs to be taught a lesson. She needs to understand her place." She walked toward me, her expression sadistic. "Hold her still."

The guards tightened their grip. Diana smiled, a chilling, predatory grin. "I think she needs a permanent reminder of who she's a substitute for." She reached into her purse and pulled out a small, vicious-looking pocketknife. She flicked it open, the blade gleaming under the lobby lights.

My blood ran cold. "Axel, stop her!" I screamed, my eyes pleading with him. "Please!"

He took a step forward, his expression conflicted. For a single, heart-stopping moment, I thought he was going to help me.

"Axel, don't you dare," Diana warned, her voice low and dangerous. "If you take one more step toward her, I'm leaving. And this time, I won't come back."

He froze. He looked from her crazed face to my terrified one. I saw the calculation in his eyes, the weighing of options. And then, with a finality that shattered what was left of my heart, he took a step back.

"This is between you two," he said, his voice devoid of all emotion. "I won't interfere."

The world tilted. He was choosing to watch. He was sanctioning this. He was allowing her to do whatever she wanted to me, his wife, to protect his toxic, obsessive relationship with her.

"No," I whispered, the word a strangled gasp. "Axel, no..."

Diana' s smile widened. "Good boy." She turned back to me, the knife held steady in her hand. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes. The mole."

She brought the tip of the blade to my face, pressing it against the skin just above my lip. I squeezed my eyes shut, a sob of terror caught in my throat.

"Don't worry," she whispered, her breath hot and smelling of stale whiskey. "This will only hurt for a second. And then you'll be perfect. A perfect little blank slate."

The guards held me immobile, their hands digging into my arms. One of them clamped a hand over my mouth, muffling my screams. I was helpless, completely at his mercy-and he had offered me none.

Through my tear-filled eyes, I looked at my husband one last time. He stood there, watching, his face a cold, impassive mask. His gaze met mine for a fleeting second, and in it, I saw not a flicker of remorse, not a hint of pity. Only a chilling, detached emptiness.

The knife pressed deeper. A sharp, searing pain exploded on my face.

And then, everything went black.

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