Chapter 1

On Connan's birthday, I woke up covered in blood, gripping Connan's customized handgun with both trembling hands.

My mind went completely blank.

I stumbled out of our bedroom and into his private study. Then I saw him.

My husband. The man I'd loved for years.

Connan lay motionless on the floor in a pool of blood. His expensive suit was stained red, and multiple gunshot wounds covered his body.

The customized handgun in my hands suddenly felt heavier.

I screamed so hard my chest hurt, but he never opened his eyes.

The police arrived soon after.

Every piece of evidence pointed at me.

The gun was Connan's. My fingerprints were all over it. His blood covered my clothes. And I was the only person found at the scene.

No matter how many times I cried and told them I didn't remember anything, nobody believed me.

I loved Connan more than my own life.

So how could I ever pull the trigger on the man I'd spent years loving?

But the court had already decided.

I was convicted of intentionally murdering my husband and sentenced to ten years in prison.

“I didn't kill my husband!” I screamed as the bailiffs grabbed my arms. “I swear I didn't! I would never hurt Connan! Please believe me! I loved him! I loved him more than anyone!”

The courtroom stayed silent.

I looked desperately at the judge, then at the jury, hoping someone would see the truth in my tears.

“I don't remember what happened that night,” I sobbed. “But I know one thing. I didn't murder my husband. Please... please don't do this to me.”

No one listened.

As the bailiffs started dragging me away, Kathleen, my fraternal twin suddenly broke free from the crowd.

“My sister is innocent!” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “She didn't kill him! She loved Connan with all her heart! Please don't take her away!” She reached for me, but the officers blocked her. “Please!” Kathleen begged, her voice breaking. “You have the wrong person! She would rather die than hurt her husband!”

I burst into tears. “Kathleen...”

She fought against the officers, crying so hard she could barely breathe. “Don't take her away! Please! She's not a murderer! She's innocent!”

But no matter how loudly we cried, the handcuffs stayed on my wrists. To them, I was just the woman who murdered her husband.

...

Prison broke me in ways I didn't think were possible. During the day, I was beaten for the smallest things. The other inmates shoved me around, threw dirty water at me, and forced me to scrub filthy prison toilets with my bare hands. If I slowed down, they kicked me. If I cried, they laughed.

“Murderer!”

“Killer!”

That was all they ever called me.

They yanked my hair, slapped my face, and treated me like I wasn't even worth the air I breathed.

At night, I curled up on a damp, moldy mattress with our faded wedding photo clutched against my chest. I'd stare at Connan's smiling face until my tears blurred the picture.

Connan...

I missed him so much it felt like my heart was rotting inside my chest.

There were nights when I wished I'd never wake up again.

I tied bedsheets around my neck. I smashed broken pieces of plastic against my wrists. I refused to eat for days, hoping my body would simply give up. But every time, someone found me before it was too late.

Maybe even death didn't want me.

...

Ten years later, I finally walked out of prison.

The sunlight burned my eyes, and my legs were so weak I could barely stay on my feet. I dragged my old suitcase behind me, looking more like a ghost than a person.

Then I saw him.

Connan Hawksley.

The man I'd mourned for ten long years.

He stood there in a perfectly tailored suit, tall and impossibly handsome. The powerful Mafia Don of the Black Dragon Organization and president of Hawksley Empire Holdings looked exactly the same.

I froze.

No... This couldn't be real.

Before I could even think, he rushed over and pulled me into his arms.

“Giss...” His voice cracked as he held me tightly. “I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I wasn't dead. The gunshots put me into a coma. I was unconscious for nine years, and I only woke up recently. The first thing I did was reopen the investigation. I found the real people behind everything and cleared your name. I know I came too late... but I'm here now.”

The world around me shattered.

I buried my face against his chest and sobbed so hard I could barely breathe.

“I thought... I thought I'd lost you forever,” I cried. “Everyone said I killed you. I begged them to believe me, Connan. I told them over and over that I'd never hurt you... but nobody listened.”

His arms tightened around me.

“I know, sweetheart.” He gently brushed my messy hair away from my face. “You suffered because I couldn't protect you, and I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But it's over now. Nobody will ever hurt you again. Come home with me.”

Home.

I'd dreamed about hearing that word for ten years.

...

When we arrived at the villa, everything looked exactly the way I remembered it. The decorations by the entrance. The couch in the living room. The painting on the wall.

It was as if time had frozen.

That night, I fell asleep in Connan's arms while listening to the heartbeat I'd thought was gone forever.

I'd missed his warmth.

I'd missed him.

I silently promised myself that I'd spend the rest of my life loving him enough to make up for the ten years we'd lost.

But a few days later, something felt wrong.

I found long strands of long blonde hair on Connan's pillow and they definitely weren't mine. My hair was long and black.

I opened the walk-in closet and a silk nightgown hung beside Connan's suits.

It wasn't mine.

I picked it up, and a sweet floral perfume still clung to the fabric.

Who did this belong to?

Maybe... maybe he'd hired a housekeeper while I was gone?

That had to be the reason, didn't it?

I took a shaky breath, tucked my hair behind my ear, and went to find Connan, hoping he'd smile at me and explain everything, hoping the fear slowly growing inside my heart was just my imagination.

I was on my way to find Connan when I noticed the door to his private study wasn't fully closed.

Voices drifted through the small opening.

I stopped without thinking.

Inside, dozens of Black Dragon men stood in perfect lines, waiting silently for their Don's orders. Connan sat behind his desk with two other Mafia Dons, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a lazy grin on his face.

I'd never seen him smile like that.

One of the Dons laughed. “So your wife actually survived ten damn years in prison? That's crazy!”

Connan let out a low chuckle. “Yeah.” He took a sip of his drink. “Guess she's tougher than I gave her credit for.”

The room erupted in laughter.

Another Don leaned back in his chair. “You really had the balls to fake your own death.”

Connan smirked. “Had to. The old men in the family wanted proof that the woman marrying into the Hawksley bloodline wouldn't fold under pressure. They don't give a damn about love. They wanted to see if she'd stay loyal no matter what.”

He shrugged like he was talking about the weather.

“So I gave them ten years.”

More laughter.

One of the men whistled. “Fuck, Connan! That's cold.”

Connan laughed even harder. “Shit, it worked, didn't it? She never turned against me. Never exposed Black Dragon. Never stopped loving me. Hell, she would've died with my name on her lips.”

My legs felt weak.

Another Don grinned. “So what about your little blonde? You gonna dump her now?”