Chapter 3

Elara didn't sleep.

She sat against the headboard with every light on, staring at the message until the screen went black. Then she stared at the black screen.

Dominic Crane. The name alone made her body lock up — muscles rigid, lungs tight, as if her flesh remembered him before her mind could catch up.

She'd been nineteen when she met him. A server at an upscale restaurant in Montreal. He'd walked in wearing a suit that cost more than her annual rent, ordered a bottle of wine she couldn't pronounce, and left a tip larger than her paycheck.

Within a month, she was living in his penthouse.

Within three months, she understood why no one ever left him willingly.

Dominic didn't hit her. He didn't need to. He controlled her with precision — her phone, her friends, her schedule, her clothes, what she ate, when she slept. He installed cameras in every room. He tracked her location in real-time. When she smiled at a male barista, Dominic bought the coffee shop and had it shut down the next day.

"You're mine, little bird," he'd say, stroking her hair while she sat perfectly still on his lap. "Every feather. Every bone."

It took her eleven months to escape. She'd faked a medical emergency, bribed a nurse, and vanished into the back of a cargo truck heading south.

She became Elara Voss three states later. New name. New face — subtle work, just enough to pass. New life.

Two years of silence. She'd thought she was free.

The text message on her phone proved otherwise.

At dawn, Elara splashed cold water on her face and went downstairs. The Blackwell estate was a fortress — stone walls, security cameras, iron gates. If Dominic was circling, this might be the safest place for her.

Which meant she couldn't leave. Not yet.

She found Killian in the dining room, back in his wheelchair, oxygen mask in place. Two nurses flanked him. His family's personal physician sat across the table, reviewing charts.

When Elara entered, Killian's gaze lifted. Behind the mask, those gray eyes tracked her every movement.

She sat beside him and placed her hand gently over his — the picture of a loving wife. His skin was warm. His fingers twitched beneath hers.

"Good morning, darling," she said softly. The nurses smiled approvingly.

Under the table, Killian's hand turned over and gripped hers. Not gently. His thumb pressed hard into her wrist — right over her pulse.

He could feel how fast her heart was racing.

After breakfast, the staff cleared the room. The moment they were alone, Killian pulled off his oxygen mask and stood.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said.

"I need to stay here." The words tumbled out before she could filter them. "The full year. I won't cause trouble. I'll play the wife perfectly. But I can't leave this house."

Killian leaned against the table, arms crossed. "Yesterday you looked ready to bolt. What changed?"

Elara pressed her lips together. She couldn't tell him about Dominic. If Killian already knew her real name, telling him more would give him even more leverage.

But the silence stretched too long, and Killian's patience visibly thinned.

"Someone's looking for me," she admitted. "Someone dangerous."

"Dominic Crane."

Her stomach dropped. "How much do you know about me?"

"Enough." He pushed off the table and walked toward her. "I know you were his. I know you ran. I know he's been hunting you ever since."

"Then you know what he'll do if he finds me."

Killian stopped in front of her. He reached out and tilted her chin up with one finger. His touch was clinical, detached — but his eyes burned.

"He won't find you here. But my protection comes with a price."

"What price?"

His thumb traced her jawline. "I need something from Dominic Crane. And you're going to help me get it."

Before she could respond, the dining room doors burst open. A woman in a red dress strode in — tall, blonde, stunning, fury radiating from every pore.

"Killian!" she snapped. Then her eyes landed on Elara, and her expression twisted into something venomous.

Killian dropped his hand from Elara's face but didn't step back.

"Elara, meet Juliette Blackwell. My brother's wife." He paused. "And my ex-fiancée."

Juliette's heels clicked across the marble floor like gunshots. She stopped inches from Elara and looked her up and down with open disgust.

"So this is the replacement," she said. Her smile was razor-thin. "How much did you cost?"