Miles away in Manhattan, Harry Chavez woke violently in the middle of the night.
He shot upright in bed, breathing hard.
Cold sweat soaked the collar of his black silk pajamas. The expensive sheets tangled around his legs as his chest rose sharply with panic.
He had been dreaming.
In the dream, he stood inside the Manhattan ballroom again beneath the crystal chandelier.
Ciel walked toward him wearing white.
Beautiful. Obedient. Completely his.
Harry reached out confidently, already expecting her hand in his.
But just before she reached him, her expression changed.
The desperate love vanished from her eyes.
Only disgust remained.
She walked past him without stopping.
Harry turned in panic and tried to grab her-
but his fingers closed around empty air.
Ciel stepped off the stage and disappeared into darkness.
"Ciel!"
Harry's eyes snapped open.
He slammed the bedside lamp on.
Bright light flooded the room.
His heart pounded painfully against his ribs.
He grabbed the watch from the nightstand.
June 4th.
Reality crashed into him instantly.
Hours ago, Ciel Miller had legally become Deacon Chavez's wife.
Pain ripped through his chest so violently he doubled over.
It felt as though someone had physically torn something out of him.
Harry gripped the fabric over his heart hard enough to wrinkle the silk.
He could not breathe normally.
Several hours later, he entered the Hamptons estate dining room looking exhausted and unstable.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
Eleonora sat calmly at the head of the table cutting into breakfast.
The moment she saw him, irritation crossed her face.
"You look pathetic," she said coldly. "Are you seriously losing your mind over a woman who made herself useless to us?"
Harry said nothing.
Eleonora took a sip of coffee.
"Ciel thinks marrying Deacon gives her power," she continued. "She has no idea Delsie controls that entire estate. Within a week she'll be stripped of everything."
Harry expected satisfaction hearing that.
Instead, nausea twisted violently through his stomach.
The pressure inside his chest worsened.
"I don't care if she rots there," he snapped suddenly.
Eleonora frowned.
Harry shoved his chair backward hard enough to overturn it completely.
The heavy oak chair crashed loudly against the floor.
Without another word, he stormed outside into the gardens.
Cold morning air hit his face.
It changed nothing.
His head throbbed painfully.
Then he saw them.
White roses.
Ciel's favorite flowers.
The sight felt unbearable.
Harry let out a furious sound and kicked the massive terracotta planter with all his strength.
The pot exploded apart across the stone path.
Dark soil and crushed white petals scattered everywhere.
Harry stood over the destruction breathing hard.
At last, the truth cracked through his denial.
He had lost her.
And the pain was beginning to destroy him.
