The day before my wedding to Liam Johnson, the heir to the Johnson family, my best friend, Chloe Smith, killed my mother in a car crash.
Liam didn't just let her get away with it.
He tore up our marriage contract and announced his union with Chloe, a public declaration of a new alliance.

I swore I'd make Chloe pay.
I crashed their celebration party, vowing to get blood for blood, but all I got were jeers and pity.
They called me an outsider who didn't understand the rules.
Just when I was at my breaking point, James Wilson—the head of the Wilson family, the quiet, shadowy man who had watched me grow up—knelt before me in front of everyone.
He promised to be my shield and the blade of my revenge.
I said yes.

I placed all my hope in him to uncover the truth about my mother's death.
He told me Chloe had been dealt with by the family's "rules," sent to a "prison" she could never leave. I believed him.
But in the third year of our marriage, I overheard him talking to his family's legal counsel.
"James, did you really marry Olivia Taylor just for a 'peace treaty'? It was an 'accident.' Why would you gamble the entire Wilson family on it?"

"Only by becoming her husband could I sign that treaty as the sole representative of the Taylor family. It was the only way to save Chloe and calm the Johnson family's anger."
"As long as Chloe is safe on her island in the Caribbean, that's all that matters. As for me… I don't matter."
So, the marriage I saw as my salvation was nothing but an elaborate lie, a scheme to protect the woman he truly loved.
The "peace treaty" signed in my name, the one that stopped a bloody war between the families, and Chloe's life of freedom—that was what he really wanted.
I was the one who was supposed to disappear from this whole charade.
…
In his office, James Wilson stared at a photo of Chloe on a sun-drenched beach, his smile a mix of heartbreak and relief.
"It's been three years. Just seeing her happy is enough, even if I'm not the one who gives her that happiness."
"As for Olivia… I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to her. This conversation is over."
The family's counsel, an old man named David Carter, turned pale with anger but was helpless.
"Boss, the Wilson family has worked so hard to legitimize our businesses. How can you joke about murder and family feuds? If the Johnsons or the FBI ever find out about this, it won't just be you—the entire Wilson empire will be dragged through the mud!"
"Chloe Smith intentionally murdered her. That's a fact. Why the hell did you get involved? She doesn't even love you!"
James's face went cold, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"That's enough, David. We will not speak of this again. I don't believe Chloe did it on purpose. The brakes on that car were faulty. I gave Aunt Anna a beautiful funeral, so the Taylor family was honored."
"To save her, I'd give more than a legitimate company. I'd give my life."
David was frantic.
"And what about Olivia? She's going to find out eventually! The second she gets suspicious and starts looking for Chloe, your whole plan is shot to hell!"
"You used her name to pardon her mother's killer. How do you expect her to live with that?"
James was silent for a moment, then lit a cigar.
"Then she'll never know. Three years is long enough. Her so-called 'sentence' should be over."
"Make the arrangements. And remember, don't let Olivia find a single clue."
"James, as your counsel, I have to warn you: there are no secrets that last forever. The things you've done will leave a trace. To protect a murderer, you've hurt someone even more innocent. If Olivia learns the truth, you are completely, utterly finished."
A tear slid down my chin.
My whole body trembled, my hands barely able to hold the dinner I'd brought for him.
Footsteps were getting closer. I scrambled into the stairwell to hide.
So, my mother's fatal car crash was never brought before any "rules" or laws.
Chloe wasn't atoning for her sins in some cold, dark cell like he'd told me.
She was on the other side of the world, enjoying sun, sand, and freedom.
And my husband, the man I loved with every fiber of my being, had orchestrated it all.
His tenderness, his protection, all the storms he shielded me from—it was all just to save the one he truly loved.
For three years, I had lived inside his carefully constructed lie.
I thought I had found a lighthouse in the darkness, but I was standing in the middle of hell. What a fucking joke.
I stumbled down the stairs and stood outside the Wilson Group tower.
I waited for five hours. I waited until the last light in the building went out. Finally, his figure appeared.
The moment he saw me, his eyes filled with concern. He rushed over and took my hands.
"What are you doing here? How long have you been waiting?"
"Not long, I just got here. I know you've been busy, so I brought you something to eat. Your secretary said you were in a meeting, so I didn't want to bother you."
"Don't do this again. It's cold out here. I'd be heartbroken if you got sick."
He pulled me into his arms and placed a soft kiss on my forehead.
The gesture was as loving as ever.
But all I felt was a bone-deep chill.
A person could really do this for someone else.
He opened the passenger door for me and then spoke, as if the thought just occurred to him.
"By the way, Chloe's 'sentence' is almost up. You two were friends, after all, and she's paid the price for what happened. Besides, we have a lot of business with the Smith family now, so…"
"Yes, it's all in the past," I cut him off calmly.
"I won't cause her any more trouble, don't worry."
He visibly relaxed, a small smile touching his lips.
"Thank you, my sweet Olivia. I'm so lucky to have you."
I turned my head, watching the city lights streak past the window as silent tears rolled down my face.
Back home, while he was in the shower, I opened his laptop.
The password was Chloe's birthday.
The desktop background was an aerial shot of the Maldives.
That was where Chloe had been "serving her time" for the past three years.
I logged into his private social media account.
The banner photo was a picture of him and Chloe as teenagers. He was only following one person.
I clicked on her profile. It was filled with pictures of Chloe's luxurious life abroad.
The jewelry she wore was from the latest collection of the Wilson Group's own luxury brand.
The private villa she was vacationing in was an overseas property the Wilson Group had acquired three years ago—their only overseas resort.
With a trembling hand, I opened his encrypted ledger.
There was only one recipient's name: Chloe Smith.
One million dollars, every single month, transferred through a complex network of accounts.
He had done this for three whole years.
I scrolled through the transactions, my heart sinking deeper and deeper into an icy sea.