Chapter 1

I secretly sent Ava Monroe—the mistress Landon Blackwood had been keeping on the side—out of the country.

That same night, he cut off my father's life-saving medication.

My father had end-stage heart failure. He was on the transplant waiting list, barely holding on. The Blackwood family's medical foundation controlled both organ allocation and access to a critical experimental drug. Without them, he wouldn't last a month.

Landon slid a medical termination notice across the table.

My father's name had been struck off the transplant list. The drug status read: "Permanently Discontinued."

He sat across from me in a perfectly tailored Armani suit, long fingers tapping lightly against the table. His expression was relaxed, as if he were reviewing a routine business deal.

"Your father has about four weeks left, Eleanor," he said calmly, his tone almost gentle in a twisted way. "Now tell me—where is Ava?"

My body went cold. My throat felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. I couldn't speak.

This was the third time he had asked.

The first time, he asked where Ava Monroe was. I stayed silent.

The second time, he grabbed my chin, his thumb brushing over my lips. "Stop being difficult."

And now, the third time—he was using my father's life to force me.

"Landon..." My voice trembled. "That's my father... he's waiting for a heart..."

He let out a soft laugh, but his eyes were as cold as the Hudson River in winter. "Is that so? Then when you sent Ava away, did you think about how important she is to me?"

I stared at him, suddenly overwhelmed by how absurd everything felt.

Important?

He had once said the women outside were just distractions. Disposable.

He had once said I was the only one he loved.

And now, for Ava, he was willing to let my father die.

"If I don't tell you..." My voice turned hoarse. "You'll really let him die?"

He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes reflecting my pale, desperate face. "Try me."

My whole body shook violently. Tears fell onto the table.

I didn't understand how things had come to this.

Landon Blackwood—he had loved me so fiercely once.

Back then, I was just an ordinary girl from a middle-class family in Connecticut. Landon was the heir to one of New York's most powerful real estate dynasties—the Blackwood family. He had been born into privilege, arrogant and untouchable, bowing to no one.

And yet, he claimed it was love at first sight.

The way he pursued me shook all of Manhattan.

Ninety-nine public confessions. Each one made headlines.

He once had helicopters scatter thousands of red roses over Central Park. He rented out every LED screen in Times Square just to broadcast his confession. On my birthday, he staged a private fireworks show that lit up the entire New York skyline.

I was moved.

My parents were not.

They knew exactly what families like his were like—respectable wives at home, countless mistresses outside. Men like him didn't believe in fairytales.

They wanted me to marry someone stable, someone from a similar background.

But Landon drove his Aston Martin to my parents' home in Greenwich and stood on the lawn for a full day and night, abandoning all pride just to ask for permission to marry me.

In the end, my parents relented.

After the wedding, he spoiled me endlessly.

When I had cramps during my period, he would leave a business meeting in London overnight just to come back and bring me a hot water bottle and cook me soup.

When I casually mentioned craving a cronut from a trendy bakery in SoHo, he drove across half the city to get it.

I thought I had married for love.

Until I heard the name Ava Monroe for the first time.

It came up casually, mentioned by his assistant. A girl from NYU had deliberately staged a fall during one of Landon's public speeches to get his attention. A cliché move.

I laughed it off.

There were always women trying to get close to him. And he had always seemed above that.

But the second time I heard her name, it was in our bed.

He was on top of me, lost in the moment, and he whispered her name.

"Ava."

In that instant, it felt like I had been dropped into an ice pit.

I confronted him.

He held me tightly and explained that yes, he had considered keeping Ava, but she was just someone on the side. Nothing serious.

"Everyone in our circle does it, Eleanor. You're the one I love. That will never change."

But after that, he stopped hiding it.

He bought Ava Cartier jewelry. Sent her to a Hamptons mansion. Took her to private parties. The rumors spread across the entire social circle, turning me into a quiet joke.

I cried. I fought.

But he no longer comforted me the way he used to. He simply said coldly, "Stop being unreasonable."

In the end, I couldn't take it anymore.

I used my own resources to send Ava abroad.

What I never expected was how far he would go in response.

He used my father's life as leverage—just to force me to tell him where she was.

"She's in Switzerland," I said finally, my voice shaking. "Gstaad. In the private chalet under my name."

He watched me for a few seconds, judging whether I was telling the truth.

Then he picked up his phone and made a call.

After confirming the information, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

"My father's medication!" I lunged forward and grabbed his sleeve. "You promised—you said you'd restore it if I told you!"

He turned back to look at me, his expression distant, like a stranger. "Someone will contact the hospital tomorrow. And Eleanor—this is the last time you test my limits."

I stumbled out of the mansion, got into my car, and drove like I was losing my mind.

By the time I reached the hospital, my father lay weak in bed. My mother sat beside him, eyes swollen from crying. The doctor told me that after the sudden interruption of his medication, he had suffered severe complications and had just been stabilized.

"I'm sorry... I chose the wrong man..." I fell to my knees beside the bed, sobbing uncontrollably.

My mother lifted a trembling hand and gently stroked my hair. "Silly girl. Life is long. You can start over."

I shook my head, tears streaming. "He won't let me go."

When I first learned about Ava, I had considered divorce.

Every time I prepared the paperwork, Landon tore it up right in front of me.

He said Ava was just temporary. That he would discard her when he was bored. That I was his true love—and he would never let me leave.

At that moment, my father took my hand, his voice weak.

"No, Eleanor. There's something you don't know. The night we agreed to your marriage, your mother and I made him sign a clause in the prenuptial agreement."

I froze.

"If he cheats," my father said softly, "you have the right to initiate a fast-track divorce. And you will receive substantial compensation. Enough for our family... to start over."

I sat there in stunned silence, tears falling uncontrollably.

My parents had already prepared a way out for me all along.