Part 1

On my twenty-ninth birthday, my billionaire husband forgot our dinner and left me waiting alone until the restaurant closed. Hours later, after I collapsed on the marble staircase of his mansion, he would discover just how little he knew about his own wife. But the secret hidden inside my coat was not even the most shocking part.

My name is Nora Ferraro, and the day Luca Ferraro underestimated me was the day he destroyed himself.

"Mrs. Ferraro, would you like us to box the cake for you?"

I stared at the little chocolate cake on the table.

Happy Birthday, Nora.

My husband should have been sitting across from me.

Instead, his wine was untouched, my message unanswered, and his phone went straight to voicemail.

"No," I whispered. "Thank you."

I'd worn the blue dress Luca once said looked beautiful on me. I'd ordered his favorite wine. I hadn't wanted diamonds or another expensive gift.

I wanted two hours with my husband.

That was all.

Luca could negotiate deals worth billions without blinking. He could make an entire boardroom fall silent.

And that morning, when I'd hoped he might remember my birthday, he'd answered a business call and walked away.

Now the restaurant was closing.

His driver had offered to take me home, but I declined. I couldn't bear another person seeing how completely I'd been forgotten.

So I walked.

A mile and a half through freezing rain.

My shoes filled with water. My dress clung to my legs. Every step made the dizziness worse.

I'd been exhausted for weeks. There were appointments I hadn't told Luca about, warnings I'd tried to follow, and a reason for my weakness that I still couldn't explain.

Yesterday, a nurse had told me to rest.

Tonight, I could barely stay upright.

When I reached the mansion, I heard Luca speaking into his phone about a shipment and tomorrow's board meeting.

He was home.

He simply hadn't come for me.

I turned toward the staircase.

One step.

Then another.

The room tilted. My fingers slipped from the railing.

Everything went dark.

"Nora! Open your eyes!"

When I surfaced, Luca was holding me.

His white shirt was soaked against my coat.

"Jesus, Nora. You're ice cold."

"Just the rain," I whispered.

"What rain?"

"The walk."

His expression hardened.

"Why didn't you call someone?"

"Everyone was busy."

Then he looked at my dress.

The blue dress.

I watched him remember.

"Nora..."

"It's okay."

"No. It isn't."

He demanded to know where my driver had been. A guard explained that I'd refused the car and that they'd tried to contact him.

"How far did you walk?" Luca asked.

"A mile and a half."

He went pale.

Minutes later, he carried me upstairs and laid me in my own bedroom.

Not his.

Ours was a marriage arranged on paper, with separate rooms, separate lives, and more money than I could ever need.

Yet the only thing I wanted was for him to stay.

"Get a doctor here now!" he ordered.

For once, every business call could wait.

His hand closed around mine.

"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"

I wanted to answer.

But how could I explain months of silence to a man who had never asked where I went?