Chapter 1

Julian Moretti vanished for three months during the bloodbath that wiped out the Santoro family.

Everyone assumed the heir had ended up in some landfill. Until my contact found him on a ranch in Montana so remote it didn't even have cell service.

A woman named Scarlett had taken him in. He couldn't even remember his own social security number at the time, so she told him they were married.

They lived some pastoral fantasy in that isolated valley until our people dragged him back to New York.

The day his memory returned, Julian sat in the estate study, staring at the photos his men had brought back―that rundown ranch, the kind of furniture you'd find in a Walmart clearance aisle, and the woman in the flannel plaid shirt.

He stared at the photos for a long time. Then he picked up his Macallan and set the glass down on top of them. The woman's smiling face disappeared beneath the crystal base.

He never mentioned Montana again.

"Cut her a check," he said, without even lifting his eyes from his drink. "Make sure she never shows her face in front of me again."

I did as ordered. Scarlett took the two hundred thousand. Didn't say a single word.

I thought that was the end of it.

Until three months later, when one of our men slipped and said her name during a report.

Julian set down his glass and stood up, perfectly calm. He didn't raise his voice. Didn't lose his temper.

He poured a glass of whiskey for the man who'd served him for seven years. Clapped him on the shoulder.

The next day, that man was gone.

The only thing left on his office carpet was a Moretti family signet ring, pressed into the dark red fibers.

Julian wiped his fingers with a handkerchief, his voice colder than Lake Michigan in January. "That woman's name will never be spoken in this house again."

After that, no one dared mention Scarlett.

Everyone believed Julian had buried that filthy chapter of his past in a concrete foundation.

Until I got word on a Thursday afternoon―Scarlett was getting married. To the son of another rancher.

Julian was in the conference room reviewing quarterly earnings when the message came through. He glanced at his phone screen, and every drop of color drained from his face. He didn't say a word. He shoved back his chair, grabbed his coat, and walked out.

He took six men with him. Stormed straight into that sad excuse for a country engagement party, the kind of thing ripped straight off Pinterest.

I heard from people who were there that when Julian walked into that old barn wearing an eight-thousand-dollar custom suit, the whispers in the room died like someone had grabbed them by the throat.

He didn't offer a single explanation. In front of everyone, he shoved Scarlett―still in her white dress―into the car and drove all the way back to New York.

He didn't even warn anyone.

Not until he stood in the main hall with that woman beside him and announced, in the same tone you'd use to order coffee, that she would be living in the estate. As his partner.

I was standing behind the second-floor railing at that moment, holding my whiskey. I almost laughed out loud.

Lucia rushed over with a napkin to wipe the spill from my hand.

I looked down at the woman who'd walked in behind Julian.

She was beautiful. But nothing like those Hermès-toting heiresses from Manhattan private schools.

She had a feral alertness to her, the kind you see in wild animals. Those eyes swept the room, and the calculation in them was impossible to miss.

No wonder Julian's mouth said disgust while his body said something else entirely.

Except. Just last week, he'd gotten the daughter of a major partner from Italy into his bed and set her up in a penthouse on the Upper East Side.

If some ranch girl with zero connections now climbed over that young lady's head, there would be trouble.

I walked down the stairs with my glass, a perfectly calibrated smile on my face. "Julian, Scarlett just arrived. She'll need time to adjust to how things work here. Why not start her off in the city apartment? Give her something official to hold onto."

I caught something flicker through Scarlett's eyes.

She buried it fast.

"And then we introduce her properly at the Christmas gala at year's end. What do you think?"

This arrangement would keep her quarantined from the center of power. Away from prying eyes and ears.

Scarlett turned to look at me after I finished speaking.

Then she pulled a move I'd seen countless times before. She started crying. For Julian.

"I know I'm just a country girl with no family name," she said, her voice trembling with perfect precision. "I don't belong in your world. Meeting you is already the luckiest thing that's ever happened to me."

"I've never wanted anything more. I just want to stay quietly by your side."

"But since Genevieve hates me so much she has to push me away... you might as well let me go. Maybe my fiancé hasn't gone far yet―"

"What the hell is he," Julian's voice dropped to ice. That famed composure, that self-control everyone knew him for, shattered the moment he saw her tears. "You've been mine for a long time now."

"You made vows to me in that church. Do you think I'm the kind of man who lets people break their vows?"

He pulled her into his arms and lowered his voice, but kept it at a volume just loud enough for me to hear. "You're not going anywhere. Don't ever say that again."

Scarlett curled against his chest. A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

But she swallowed it fast. Replaced it with a look of pure distress. She shrank behind Julian and made her voice small enough for everyone to hear. "But... Genevieve doesn't seem to like me very much."

One sentence. That was all it took to turn Julian's fire on me.

Julian's dark glare swung toward me immediately.

"Genevieve. I always thought you were a woman with boundaries."

"So that's what this is. A person's worth is determined by where they came from. You disappoint me."

"Scarlett saved my life. Her place at my side is not open for anyone to question―"

"Then why don't you submit a formal petition to the family council." I cut him off, my voice as calm as placing an order at Starbucks. "Dissolve our marriage. Give Scarlett the position of lady of the house."

Julian froze.

Every bodyguard and maid within earshot stopped breathing.

Scarlett kept up her quiet sobbing. "Julian, don't be angry. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have come here."

She placed her hand on her flat stomach. Her voice dropped to a whisper, like she was afraid of disturbing something. "Just let me go. I'll take the baby with me."

The word "baby" hit Julian's remaining sanity like a .45 caliber round.

His eyes went wide. "You're pregnant?"

Scarlett nodded, her face flushed. "Almost three months."

Julian scooped her up and strode for the door. "Get a doctor. Now. Full examination."

"And have someone prepare the lake-view suite in the west wing. She's staying there."

A whole entourage followed him out.

Lucia helped me up from the floor. Her voice was low and thick with indignation. "Madam, are you really going to just watch while that ranch girl―"

I raised a hand to stop her.

I looked up. Watched them go.

Scarlett's silhouette disappeared at the top of the stairs.

That girl was no innocent. Her fragility was a porcelain shell. Beneath it was a hunger that wanted to swallow everything.

Still―