Chapter 1

A woman walked into my office.

She was pregnant, her hand resting on her round belly. She wore expensive clothes, but they couldn't hide her ambition.

"I need to hire you, Ms. Vance," she said, her voice smooth. "I hear you're the best."

I was the best. I was Elara Vance, the fixer. I made problems disappear for the most powerful people in New York City. Scandals, affairs, mistakes. I cleaned them up. Quietly.

"What can I do for you?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral.

She introduced herself as Anna Bell. A fake name, I was sure. Clients like her always used fake names.

"My lover," she began, "he's married. To a very cold, emotionally distant woman. He wants to leave her, but it needs to be a clean break. No drama."

She leaned forward, her eyes bright.

"He's been with me for years. We have two children. This is our third. It's time he came home for good."

I nodded, my face a professional mask. This was a standard Tuesday.

"And his name?" I asked.

"Ethan," she said. "Ethan Thorne."

My blood went cold.

Ethan Thorne was my husband.

I stared at her, at the swell of her belly that held my husband's child. My mind went blank, then flooded with a million images. Ethan telling me he had intimacy issues from a bad childhood. Ethan telling me he needed patience. Ethan, my husband of five years.

She mistook my silence for consideration.

"After all," she added with a small, confident smile, "the one he doesn't love is the one who should leave, right?"

The words hung in the air of my expensive, sound-proofed office.

I took a slow breath. I looked her directly in the eye.

"You're right," I said, my voice steady. "She should leave."

I picked up my pen.

"I'll take the case. I promise you, his wife will disappear. Give me 24 hours."

She beamed, relieved. "Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me."

Oh, I think I did.

The moment she left, my composure shattered. I walked to my private bathroom and threw up. My hands shook so hard I could barely hold my phone.

My first call wasn't to Ethan. It was to David, the best divorce attorney in Manhattan.

"David, it's Elara Vance," I said, my voice tight.