I caught the sound of soft crying drifting in from the garden.
Before I even realized it, my feet were already carrying me toward it.
Pushing aside the hanging wisteria vines, I stepped into the clearing.
Then I stopped breathing.
Luca.
My husband.
Impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, every inch the untouchable kingpin people feared. Power clung to him as naturally as the air he breathed. In one hand, he held a leather riding crop, bringing it down against Celeste again and again as she lay completely naked, restrained on the antique chaise lounge I'd spent weeks searching for to complete our villa.
Then, without warning, he tossed the crop aside.
He bent over her.
And kissed her.
Hungry. Possessive.
His hands roamed over her body while sweat glistened across his back.
Everything inside me lurched.
It felt as though someone had ripped my chest apart with bare hands.
Only then did I realize I'd misunderstood what I'd heard.
Those weren't cries of pain.
They were moans.
Breathless laughter slipped between Celeste's gasps as she clung to him.
The punishment I'd imagined...
It had never been punishment at all.
It was intimacy.
Their intimacy.
The prison Luca always claimed she'd been locked inside wasn't a prison in the slightest.
It was where they hid their life together.
Their sanctuary.
I stumbled backward, my gaze falling onto the chaise lounge.
I'd chosen that piece myself.
I remembered spending days comparing fabrics and carvings because I'd wanted everything in our home to be perfect for him.
Back then, he'd smiled at me with such tenderness.
"Camille deserves nothing less than the most beautiful things," he'd murmured. "This is yours. Just like my heart."
Apparently...
Neither had ever belonged to me.
I clenched my fists until sharp pain shot through my palms.
Why?
Why would he do this to me?
Then I heard them speak.
"You're incredible, sweetheart." Celeste's cheeks were flushed as she beamed at him. "Sometimes I still can't believe I actually became your wife."
"You earned it," Luca answered evenly while buttoning his shirt, as if nothing extraordinary had happened moments before. His voice remained calm, effortless, impossible to read.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
"Four years ago, all I wanted was to keep Camille by my side forever. But you..." His tone hardened. "You swung an axe and destroyed her hand so she'd never leave to chase her dreams. Then you surrendered yourself, convinced that sacrificing your own freedom for my happiness was worth it."
Each word felt like another blade sinking into my heart.
"Sometimes I wonder whether I'm too cruel," he continued quietly. "But I can't ignore someone capable of loving me that selflessly. Camille gets my love in the open. You have this villa, and I've given you my name. That's as fair as I can make it."
Fair.
He actually believed that was fair.
I nearly lost my balance.
Years ago, a spoiled heir had mocked me, calling me a fallen angel with broken wings.
Luca had made sure the man paid dearly for those words.
Yet now...
The woman who had permanently shattered my future stood before him, receiving kisses, affection, expensive gifts...
Even his surname.
My throat burned.
I wanted to scream until my lungs gave out.
I wanted to disappear.
"What if Miss Hart learns the truth?" Celeste asked softly. "She'll never forgive us."
Luca's expression never changed.
"My feelings for Camille haven't changed." His confidence never wavered. "I'll spend the rest of my life protecting her. She'll never discover this. And you'll never hurt her again."
Then he knelt before Celeste.
Carefully, he slipped a pink diamond ring onto her finger.
Her eyes widened.
"Isn't this the pink diamond from the Paris auction? The one worth over a hundred million?" she whispered in disbelief. "Do I really deserve something like this?"
Luca brushed a gentle kiss against her lips.
"You're my wife," he said softly. "Of course you do."
His smile was warm.
"Happy fourth anniversary."
I stood hidden among the vines, watching the man who had once promised I was his entire world celebrate another woman instead.
**
I didn't leave the mountain until long after Luca's black sedan had disappeared around the bend.
Even then, I couldn't move.
It felt as though my body had forgotten how.
As if taking one step would force me to accept that everything I'd seen had actually happened.
My phone buzzed.
Almost mechanically, I looked down and opened the message.
Camille, I'm heading home now. I can't wait to celebrate our seventh anniversary with my favorite girl. I love you.
For several seconds, I simply stared at the screen.
Then...
I laughed.
The sound burst out of me so violently that I doubled over.
I laughed until tears poured down my face.
Until my shoulders shook uncontrollably.
Until I sounded completely unhinged.
Seventh anniversary?
He had just spent the afternoon celebrating four years of marriage with another woman.
Now he was coming home to celebrate seven years with me.
What exactly was I?
His backup plan?
His favorite toy?
Or just someone too blind to notice she'd been replaced?
There had been no seventh anniversary.
Legally, we'd been divorced for four years.
Four entire years.
And if this was Luca's idea of love—destroying my future, trapping me inside a gilded cage, smiling while deceiving me every single day—
Then I wanted no part of it anymore.
Not now.
Not ever.
He believed I'd never uncover the truth.
Slowly, I wiped away my tears.
"No," I murmured, my voice barely audible.
"I'm the one who's leaving you."
This time...
For good.
My fingers tightened around the application until the paper wrinkled beneath my grip.
Then I walked away and completed the only two tasks that still mattered.
First, I filed the paperwork to erase every trace of my identity from this country.
Every record.
Every document.
Every connection.
It would be as though Camille Hart had never existed.
Then I resubmitted my competition application.
This time...
Under a different name.
A different identity.
A different future.
Four years earlier, when Celeste hacked off my right hand, she hadn't stopped there.
She'd thrown it to a pack of wild dogs as if I were nothing.
Luca had nearly gone mad afterward.
He spent billions finding the world's best specialists until they fitted me with a prosthetic hand realistic enough to fool almost anyone.
It gave me back an ordinary life.
But it never gave me back my career.
I had been a surgeon.
Steady hands were everything.
Mine would never be the same again.
The dream I'd devoted my life to died alongside that hand.
I couldn't accept it.
Three different times, I tried to end my own life.
Three different times, I failed.
Eventually, there were no tears left to cry.
After countless sleepless nights and endless grief, I forced myself to keep living.
I enrolled in rehabilitation for my new hand.
People called it therapy.
To me...
It was torture.
More than a thousand days of relentless practice.
Blood staining the equipment.
Blisters tearing open.
Skin hardening into calluses before splitting apart again.
Over.
And over.
And over.
But eventually...
I did it.
Against every expectation, I clawed my way back.
Not to who I'd once been—
But to someone who could stand on her own again.
I never told Luca.
I wanted it to be a surprise.
I wanted him to see that the woman he claimed to love hadn't been broken forever.
Now...
I was grateful I'd kept it secret.
If he'd known I'd found my way back...
Would he have taken my other hand too?
The thought made bile rise in my throat.
My phone vibrated once more.
A new notification appeared.
Your identity cancellation request has been received and will be completed within eight business days.
Eight days.
That was all that remained.
In eight days, Camille would cease to exist.
No records.
No identity.
No trail.
Not even Luca Devereaux—with all his influence, wealth, and reach—could ever find someone who no longer existed.
