Chapter 1 - THE WRONG WOMAN
My ex kicked me to the marble floor because he thought I was a homeless woman blocking his way.
He expected me to cry.
He expected me to apologize.
He expected the same poor, frightened girl he had abandoned three years ago.
What Trevor Mercer didn’t know was that the platinum ring on my finger belonged to Roman Vale.
And in this city, powerful men whispered one name when they were afraid.
The Ghost.
Roman didn’t shout.
He didn’t threaten.
He didn’t need to.
When Roman Vale decided someone had crossed a line, that person usually understood the mistake after it was already too late.
The Galleria smelled like cedarwood, expensive perfume, polished leather, and money.
I hated it.
Even now.
I stood outside a boutique on the first floor, staring at a pair of understated rhodium cufflinks.
Roman would probably hate them.
He hated accessories.
He liked plain watches, dark suits, black coffee, and complete control over everything around him.
I smiled to myself.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
“Move.”
My entire body went cold.
Three years disappeared in one second.
I knew that voice.
Trevor.
“I said move.”
I started to turn.
A hard leather shoe slammed into the back of my calf.
Pain shot through my leg.
My knee buckled.
My shoulder crashed into the glass display.
Then I hit the marble.
Hard.
Someone gasped.
A saleswoman whispered, “Oh my God.”
Trevor’s irritated voice came from above me.
“Jesus, are you deaf? People are trying to walk here. We don’t need vagrants blocking the—”
He stopped.
I looked up.
His face changed.
“Sadi?”
Trevor Mercer looked richer than the man I remembered.
Tailored navy suit.
Gold watch.
Slick hair.
Fake confidence.
A blonde woman clung to his arm.
I pushed myself upright.
Trevor stared.
“What are you doing here?”
I brushed my jeans.
“You kicked me.”
“Oh, come on.”
“You deliberately kicked me.”
“You were in the way.”
The blonde looked me up and down.
Trevor leaned closer.
“You following me again?”
I almost laughed.
“Again?”
“My office is two blocks away.”
He pointed around the mall.
“You expect me to believe you just happen to be here?”
“I didn’t know you worked nearby.”
“Sure.”
His eyes dropped to my oversized sweater and plain sneakers.
He couldn’t see the cashmere.
He saw poverty.
The same poverty he had escaped by stealing my savings and disappearing.
He smirked.
“Still pretending your life turned out fine?”
I reached into my pocket.
Trevor laughed.
“Calling somebody?”
“My husband.”
His smile sharpened.
“You’re married?”
“Yes.”
“To who?”
I didn’t answer.
My phone vibrated.
Roman: Finished early. Where are you?
I typed:
West wing. First floor.
Trevor shook his head.
“Poor guy.”
The blonde laughed.
Then something in the room changed.
The boutique manager went silent.
A security guard straightened.
Two businessmen near the escalator immediately stepped aside.
Trevor frowned.
A man in a charcoal suit had stepped off the escalator.
Tall.
Calm.
Dark-eyed.
Roman.
He saw me.
Then my scraped palm.
My bruised knee.
The red mark on my calf.
His face didn’t change.
That terrified me more than anger would have.
He stopped beside me.
His hand touched my waist carefully.
“You hurt?”
“I’m okay.”
Roman looked at Trevor.
Trevor’s mouth opened.
Roman spoke quietly.
“Which one of you touched my wife?”
Trevor’s face turned white.
But before he could answer, the blonde whispered something that made even Roman look at her.
“Trevor…”
She swallowed.
May you like
“You told me Roman Vale was dead.”
And that was when I realized Trevor knew exactly who my husband was.
