Chapter 2

I panicked.

Why was he here?

To him, I was just a convenient replacement. Why would he fly back for this?

The knocking came again. Three sharp raps. Pure, forced restraint.

"Chloe. Open the door. Now."

I sat up, forcing my breathing to slow down. I couldn't let him see me panic.

I took a deep breath and called out in a sleepy, annoyed voice, "Asher... I’m going to the bathroom. Give me a minute to shower."

I dashed into the bathroom, turned the shower on high, and immediately leaned into the mirror to look at my neck.

I had used a makeup suction cup to make those marks yesterday. To make it look real, I had gone all out. The bruises were dark purple. No amount of concealer was going to hide them.

But I had to try to cover them anyway.

Because a guilty wife would always try to hide her tracks.

If I wanted this performance to work, I had to play the part perfectly.

I wet my hair to look like I’d just stepped out of the shower, then pulled on a black turtleneck sweater that covered me up to my jawline.

For the tiny bit of purple showing at the very top of my collar, I slapped a band-aid over it.

I practiced a guilty, nervous expression in the mirror.

Perfect. He would look at me, feel disgusted, and demand a divorce.

I unlocked the door and stepped out.

Asher was sitting on the living room sofa, his eyes closed, rubbing his temples.

He looked exhausted. His face was pale, and dark stubble lined his jaw.

He wasn't wearing his watch, and his designer cufflinks were missing.

One of his hands was white-knuckled around his phone. The other rested on the armrest, his knuckles split and bleeding.

It looked like he had punched a wall. Hard. Multiple times.

But he didn't seem to notice or care about the blood.

"Asher? Why are you back?"

Asher opened his eyes. They were pitch black, intense, and completely focused on me.

He stood up. The man who had been rushing a minute ago now walked toward me with agonizing slowness.

I instinctively took a step back, but he reached out, his hand wrapping around my arm like a vice, pulling me back to him.

His gaze dropped to my neck, his pupils shrinking.

I forced a tight smile. "Did something happen?"

He didn't answer. He raised two fingers, hovering them just above the band-aid on my neck. It felt like he was going to rip it off, along with all my lies and our sham of a marriage.

My body began to tremble. I closed my eyes, waiting for the explosion.

But his touch was surprisingly light. He just let his fingers brush against the edge of the adhesive.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice eerily calm.

I avoided his eyes. "I... I accidentally scratched myself with a book cover yesterday."

"A book..." Asher blinked slowly. "And what were you doing last night?"

His fingers slipped under the collar of my turtleneck. One tug, and he would see the dark bruises underneath.

I swallowed hard. "I went out to get my hair done."

Asher’s breathing turned heavy, ragged.

He stared at me, and for a second, I thought he was going to rip me apart.

His grip on my collar tightened, pulling me close. I lost my balance and stumbled, my hands slamming against his broad chest to keep from falling.

His other hand slipped around my waist, pulling me flush against his body. He was squeezing me so tight it hurt, as if trying to bleed off his hidden fury through his grip.

I couldn't fight his strength. My knees felt weak.

Asher leaned down, his face inches from mine.

"Asher, please... don't," I whispered, my voice shaking. I didn't know what he was going to do, but every instinct told me I was in danger.

My mind went blank. I began to plead mindlessly.

For a few agonizing seconds, nothing happened.

Then, he slowly let go of my collar. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his face pale and tense.

Only then did I realize what I had just said. *I'm scared. Don't touch me. Please.*

"I’m hiring two bodyguards for you," Asher announced coldly. "They will follow you everywhere you go from now on. For your safety."

Without waiting for my reply, he turned on his heel and walked out.

It wasn't until I heard his car roar down the driveway that I snapped out of it.

He wasn't going to investigate?

How was this possible?!