Chapter 1

"I'm sorry, Ali," Reese said. "The hospital board postponed my surgical fellowship again. I still have months of internship rotations to finish. After that, I will marry you."

I closed my eyes and leaned against the peeling wallpaper of my tiny apartment. My feet ached from a fourteen-hour shift at the diner. We had been doing this long-distance routine for six years. I was so tired.

"But it's been six years, Reese," I pleaded. I gripped my phone tightly. "Can I just visit you? I miss you so much. We haven't seen each other in forever. You never visited me."

"I'm too busy right now. The attending surgeons are breathing down my neck. I will just come to you next month. I promise."

"Reese, please—"

The line went dead. He hung up on me.

I stared at the darkened screen of my phone. A cold knot formed in my stomach. Something felt terribly wrong. He always had an excuse. He always needed more time.

I walked over to my cramped desk and opened my laptop. I started checking his London medical university's research portal. I typed his name into the database. A single surgical research paper popped up on the screen. I clicked the link.

My heart stopped beating. The publication date was four years ago.

He had finished his research four years ago. He had earned his degree. Why was he still asking me for tuition money?

My hands shook as I scrolled down to the acknowledgments section. The words on the screen blurred together.

"Thank you to my lover, Chloe, for standing by my side through the hardest years of medical school. I could not have survived this without you."

Chloe.

My breath hitched in my throat. Was it the same Chloe? My childhood best friend had vanished six years ago.

She claimed she was moving abroad to study and then completely cut off all contact with me. I had spent years worrying about her.

No. It had to be a coincidence.

I pushed away from the desk. Reese loved me. He would never do this to me. Someone must have stolen his identity to publish that paper. Or maybe he was in some kind of terrible trouble.

What if he was being forced to hide his real life to protect me? The medical field was notoriously competitive and cutthroat. Maybe someone was blackmailing him.

I paced the length of my small bedroom.

I could not just sit here and wait another month.

I grabbed my purse and logged into my bank account on my phone. I stared at the meager balance. It was every single penny I had saved from working endless double shifts.

It was the money I was supposed to send him next week for his final tuition payment. Without a second thought,

I transferred it all to my checking account. I packed a small duffel bag and bought a train ticket to London.

I would show up at his student apartment where I had been sending his care packages for years. We would sit down, and we would figure this out together.

The train ride felt like an eternity. I stared out the window at the passing countryside. I rehearsed what I would say a hundred times. It would all be a massive misunderstanding.

The London sky broke open the moment I stepped out of the station.

Freezing rain soaked through my thin coat in seconds. I shivered as I walked down the street.

I finally reached the address he had given me years ago. It was a rundown brick building with peeling paint and cracked windows.

My heart ached for him. He had been living in this squalor for years while I complained about my own cramped apartment.

I pushed open the heavy front door. The hallway smelled of damp carpet and old dust. I found apartment 4B and knocked.

No answer.

I knocked harder. "Reese? It's Alicia."

The door across the hall creaked open. A grumpy landlord in a faded sweater peered out at me. He frowned deeply.

"Stop that racket," the landlord grumbled. "There is no one in there."

"I am looking for Reese Castillo," I said. I offered a polite but desperate smile. "He lives in 4B. I am his girlfriend."

The landlord let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Girlfriend? Honey, nobody has lived in 4B for a long time. I use it for storage."

My smile faltered. "That is impossible. I send packages here every month. He lives here."

"I have owned this building for ten years," the landlord said. "Reese Castillo moved out four years ago. Right after he got his medical degree."

The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

"But my packages," I whispered. "I just sent one last week. Someone is receiving them."

The landlord sighed and pointed a crooked finger toward the front entrance. "A private courier comes every Friday afternoon. He collects whatever gets dumped at that door. He speaks to no one. He just grabs the boxes and leaves."

I checked my watch. It was Friday.

As if on cue, the heavy front door swung open. A man in a sleek waterproof uniform stepped into the hallway. He bent down and picked up the small brown box sitting on the floor mat.

It was the care package I had mailed on Monday.

"Excuse me," I said. "Where are you taking that?"

"I am not at liberty to say, miss. Client confidentiality." He tried to step around me.

I reached into my wet purse and pulled out my wallet. I took out the last fifty pounds I had to my name. It was my food money for the week. I held it out to him.

"Please," I begged. Tears finally mixed with the rain on my cheeks. "That box is from me. The man you are delivering it to is my boyfriend. I just need to know where he is. Please."

The courier looked at the money. He looked at my desperate face. He hesitated for a long moment before snatching the bills from my hand.

He pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled an address on the back of a delivery slip.

He handed the slip to me and walked out into the rain without a word.