. The heavy satin of her wedding dress felt like it was suffocating her. She had survived. That was th

ympathy. "Mrs. Blackburn," he said, his voice a respectful murmur.

waiting at the curb. The drive from the chapel to the main residence was short, but it felt like a journey to another world. Man

r shot past them, heading in the opposite direction towards a side garage. For a fleeting moment, Chloe's eye

e saw

ride, his fifty-dollar insult, sitting in his family's car, being driven to his home, sent a jolt of possessive, cold satisfaction through him. He swerved s

le sense of being watched. She glanced back, but the sports car was

cale of it was breathtaking-a soaring, three-story ceiling, a bifurcated marble staircase, and artwor

n the wheelchair. She cleared her throat, her voice small in

ucted. "The master's health is very fragile, Mrs. Blackburn. The stress of the day has been too much

hloe's assumption. The man in the wh

tions," Arthur added gently. "He is not t

marriage she had entered. But all Chloe felt was a profound, overwhelming wave of relief.

ercy that she didn't see the flicke

se to a set of ornate double doors

he room was a massive, four-poster bed, draped in dark silk. The sight of it made her stomach cl

He saw her ask about him. He saw the flicker of fear in her eyes, and then, unmistakably, the

his lips. She was relieved

ded cage, and then, when she least expected it, he would remind her that