Chapter 1
My husband–cold, emotionless, and born without the capacity for love–suddenly picked a forbidden fruit.
The girl came from the slums, her body covered in scars, yet clean as snow.
For Xavier Ford, a man raised in blood and brutality, she was his first taste of addiction.
He thought he hid it well. But I found out.
At the Ford family’s annual gala, I flipped the table in front of everyone.
And yet he didn’t even flinch. He calmly wiped his hands and had his lawyer hand me divorce papers.
“Avery,” he said flatly, “sign them. The three private hospitals in Fairhill are yours.”
I tore the papers to shreds.
So he upped the stakes.
He shoved me off a pier. Had my family’s pharmaceutical plants go up in smoke, one after another.
Then he crossed the final line–he kidnapped my parents, tied their limbs to five motorcycles.
“Sign the papers,” he said, “or watch them get torn to pieces. Your choice.”
I dropped to my knees and begged him. But with a deafening roar, the engines revved-
And my parents‘ mangled remains splattered across my face.
“No… no!!”
When I opened my eyes again, it was the day I first uncovered the girl who’d go on to destroy my life–Sophie Wells.
This time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream.
That night, I called Nate, my family’s most trusted estate manager, and arranged for my parents to relocate to Aspenridge Vineyards.
Then I began preparing to disappear.
And the moment I did… Xavier lost his mind.
In my last life, I had only seen Sophie’s photo in Xavier’s study.
But in this one, I wanted to see her for myself–to understand what magic this girl had that could make a monster like him learn to feel.
“Nate, get my parents to Aspenridge within the week. I’ll follow as soon as I can.”
After giving the instructions, I contacted my attorney to draft the divorce agreement.
Chapter 1
1.12%
Tame him, conquer him, but try not to get too attached.
Then I headed to the run–down church where Sophie volunteered.
She was standing on tiptoe beneath a stained glass window cracked and leaking from years of neglect, signing out Bible stories to a group of grimy, wide–eyed children.
Sunlight streamed through the broken panes, casting fractured color across her pale figure.
She looked untouched by the filth around her–like she didn’t belong to this world at all.
No wonder Xavier was obsessed.
“Watch out!”
Suddenly, the rusted chandelier overhead gave way.
I instinctively stepped back.
But Sophie leapt forward, throwing herself under the collapsing iron frame.
Crash!
A sharp hook slashed her shoulder, blood soaking through her white habit in seconds.
She only winced, then turned to the frightened children, signing calm and firm, “Don’t be afraid. God will catch all your
pain.”
I froze.
Her blood dripped steadily to the floor, like red blossoms blooming in the snow.
Half an hour later, I was helping her bandage up in a cramped little infirmary.
Her skin was almost translucent, the blue veins beneath barely hidden. An old scar stretched across her collarbone.
“This is from…?”
She smiled faintly and signed, “Scraped by a sheet of metal when I was little. Doesn’t hurt anymore.”
But I knew better.
Kids in places like Bayhill Slums cauterized wounds with fire. There was no luxury of antiseptics or stitches.
Then, out of nowhere, she reached for my wrist and gently traced a sentence into my palm:
“You’re shaking.”
I jerked my hand back.
She was right. I was shaking.
Because in my last life, it was these very hands that Xavier used–to press the remote that ripped my parents apart.
“Wait a second.” I dug into my purse and pulled out the check I’d prepared in advance, placing it in her hand.
Chapter 1
1.12%
Tame him, conquer him, but try not to get too attached.
“Take this. I’ve got something better coming your way soon.”
By then, the divorce would be finalized.
Sophie shook her head and pushed the check back, signing with calm insistence.
“Helping others shouldn’t come with a price.”
Just then, her outdated phone buzzed.
I only caught a glimpse of the number, but I recognized it immediately-
Xavier Ford’s private line.
She answered.
A cold, low voice came through the speaker, “Where are you hurt?”
Sophie couldn’t hear. But her phone converted speech into text in real time.
She looked down, typed back.
And I saw the way her lashes trembled, the faint blush creeping up her ears.
“I’m fine. Just a small cut. You don’t need to come…”
But I could already hear the rumble of a helicopter on the other end.
From Ford Tower to the slums, it would take twenty minutes.
Of course he had eyes here.
The moment she got hurt, he knew.
His eyes, apparently, only ever saw Sophie.
Never me–his wife of ten years.
I let out a bitter laugh.
When I had a stomach hemorrhage and was hospitalized for three days, all he sent was a single bouquet.
The card read:
“Try not to die in there–I don’t have time for a funeral.”
So it wasn’t about time. It was about worth. And I was never worth it.
“You should go. I won’t keep you.”
