My family sold me to a monster to settle their debts.
The whole country knows the rumors. Nicholas Sterling is a hideous, reclusive beast who shuns the light, a man whose face was ruined in a fire and whose heart was twisted by cruelty. They say he buys beautiful things—especially women—just to break them.
I was delivered to his cliffside manor with nothing but the clothes on my back and a heart full of dread, a sacrificial lamb to keep my sister alive.
I expected a grotesque tyrant. I was not prepared for him.
A man with the face of a fallen angel and the presence of a king. His eyes aren't cruel; they're haunted by a grief so deep it steals my breath. His touch isn't violent; it’s a question that terrifies me even more.
He calls me his wife. He gives me the run of his castle. But he also watches me with an intensity that feels like possession. And the one rule he gives me is the most chilling of all: Never go into the west wing.
But in a house built on lies, how can I resist? The truth is waiting behind that door. And it’s more beautiful, and more terrible, than any beast.

I was back in the dark hotel room. The silk was cold under my fingers. The air was thick, heavy. I couldn't see. I couldn't move. I couldn't scream. I was frozen, trapped, waiting for something terrible to happen.


Then the hand came out of the darkness. Warm. Assessing. It touched my stomach, and I woke up gasping.


The room was dark. The fire had burned down to embers, casting faint red light on the walls. Nicholas was beside me, still asleep, his breathing slow and steady. His face was peaceful. He didn't know I was drowning.


I pressed my hand to my chest. My heart was racing. My skin was clammy. My throat was tight.


I put my hand on my stomach. The movement was small, fluttering, like a butterfly trapped under my skin.


Chapter 87 - The Shadow of Doubt