Chapter 1

I bought my fiancée, Chelsea, a private vineyard in Napa Valley. It was a grand gesture, a symbol of the future I thought we were building. She threw a lavish party to celebrate, but I wasn't the guest of honor. Her ex-boyfriend, Ryan Hughes, was.

I found them in the main house, laughing over a bottle of wine I' d selected. The air was thick with a history I wasn't a part of.

"What is he doing here, Chelsea?" I asked, my voice tight.

Chelsea rolled her eyes, her perfect socialite smile never faltering. "Caleb, don't be like that. Ryan's just a friend."

Ryan, ever the charismatic charmer from the wrong side of the tracks, stood up. He was taller than me, broader. He smirked. "Yeah, man. Just friends. Relax."

I didn't relax. I told him to leave.

The confrontation escalated quickly. Chelsea screamed at me, calling me jealous and controlling. Ryan' s smirk turned into a sneer. He shoved me. I stumbled back. He shoved me again, harder this time. I fell, my head hitting the stone fireplace with a sickening crack.

The world swam. I felt a sharp kick to my ribs, then another. Through the haze of pain, I saw Chelsea watching, her expression cold, impassive. They dragged me down to the wine cellar, the air suddenly cold and musty.

"He'll be fine," I heard Ryan say. "Just needs to sleep it off."

"What if someone finds him?" Chelsea's voice was a nervous whisper.

"No one will. We're taking the only car. Let him walk home."

The heavy oak door slammed shut, and the bolt slid into place. The darkness was absolute. The pain in my head and chest was a roaring fire. I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. I collapsed onto the damp stone floor, the world fading to black.

I was rescued by a U.S. Marshal named Maria Johns. She said she was investigating a separate case on a neighboring property when she heard a faint noise. She found me barely conscious, dehydrated, and septic from my injuries.

She sat by my hospital bed, her presence a beacon of strength and order. Her uniform was crisp, her voice calm and reassuring.

"Caleb," she said, her expression serious. "We need to talk about Ryan Hughes."

I braced myself.

"He's dead," she stated flatly. "There was a boating accident on the bay. He was trying to flee. His body was recovered this morning."

Relief washed over me, so potent it felt like a drug. It was over.

Maria' s hand rested on my arm, her touch firm and protective. "You're safe now. Chelsea is in custody, but she'll try to pin everything on you. I won't let that happen. I'll protect you."