Chapter 1

Chloe's POV

I stood on the mountaintop, holding my daughter Anna's urn in my arms.

The night wind was cold, but the stars above were so bright they hurt to look at.

This had been her favorite place when she was alive. She'd said that as long as she looked up, she could always see "stars that never lie."

She'd said the same thing on her seventh birthday.

That same day, she died in a hospital bed.

Died of ricin poisoning.

And her father, Vincent Lucchese, never showed up.

I had barely stepped into the campsite when I heard it.

Muted panting, the rustle of tent fabric being dragged against skin, and a woman's low, sticky laugh.

I stopped walking.

For a split second, I even hoped I'd misheard.

"Vincent, deeper…"

"Slow down," the man's voice was hoarse and painfully familiar. "Tonight I'm yours."

My fingers dug into the edges of the urn.

The sounds inside the tent went on.

"I thought your kid was sick," the woman said with a laugh. "You just ran out like this—aren't you afraid your wife's going to throw a fit?"

Vincent let out a short, cold laugh. "Don't bring them up. Chloe is the best at playing the victim. She's probably using the kid again, trying to chain me down."

I could hear my own heart crack.

"What about your daughter then?" the woman pressed. "Between me and her, who do you love more?"

There was a brief silence. Then Vincent answered without the slightest hesitation.

"You, of course, Camila."

"She's just a kid. There'll always be better ones."

I didn't leave.

I stood in the dark and listened to every last sound.

Listened to him belittle Anna.

Listened to them tangle together, panting and laughing at me and my daughter.

Until it was finally over.

I walked forward.

I yanked the zipper of the tent all the way up in one pull.

Vincent froze, but Camila was quicker. She shrank into his arms at once, pretending to be startled.

"Chloe?" Vincent's face went dark in an instant. "You followed me?"

I stared at him and forced the words out slowly. "This is my daughter's favorite place."

Camila spoke up with fake concern. "Chloe, you've got it wrong, I was just—"

"Shut up." I cut her off.

The next second—

Smack.

My head snapped to the side from the force of his slap.

My ears rang; the metallic taste of blood spread along my lip.

"What gives you the right to talk to her like that?" Vincent shouted, shaking with anger. "You jealous, crazy woman."

Camila tugged gently at his hand. "Don't, she's still your wife."

But the look she gave me was pure triumph.

I let out a laugh, my voice trembling. "The woman in your arms climbed into my husband's bed, and now she wants to play saint?"

Smack.

The second slap landed.

I went down hard.

The urn crashed against my chest. I curled around it on instinct, shielding it with my body.

The ground was freezing, but what came back to me was the past.

How I had held Vincent's family together for him, stood in front of his enemies, and when his family was on the verge of collapse, emptied everything my parents had left me to save them.

And in his eyes, all I deserved was the back of his hand.

The roar of rotors suddenly split the night.

I flinched and looked up.

A helicopter hovered overhead, and a flood of rose petals rained down from the sky.

Red. Blindingly red.

Camila let out a delighted little scream and threw herself into Vincent's arms. "Is this for me?"

Vincent lowered his head and kissed her. "Didn't you say you love roses?"

She smiled, smug, then brushed another kiss against his mouth. "Later… I want to go again."

A laugh slipped out of me.

Vincent had always said he hated the smell of roses. I'd bought them once, and he made me throw them out immediately.

Now he was willing to put up with it for her.

I pushed myself to my feet. My voice sounded hollow, like it belonged to someone else.

"Why didn't you come on Anna's seventh birthday?"

Vincent frowned.

Camila dropped her gaze with a soft, practiced sigh. "It was my fault. I had a prenatal checkup that day, and Vincent went with me."

My world went silent for a second.

"Prenatal checkup?" I stared at her stomach.

Camila nodded, eyes shining.

"She's pregnant," Vincent added flatly.

My knees almost gave out.

He went on, "When the baby is born, you can raise it. As the heir."

I couldn't listen anymore.

I lifted my hand and slapped Camila across the face, hard.

She screamed.

The next moment, Vincent shoved me to the ground. "Are you insane? How dare you hit her?!"

I wrapped both arms around the urn, slowly dragging myself back up.

I turned to leave.

"Stop." Vincent's voice cut through the wind.

He was staring at the box in my arms, his brows pulling tight.

"What is that you're holding?"