Chapter 1

My best friend had been sleeping with my ex-husband for three years.

Together, they spread anonymous rumors, ruined my reputation, and pushed me to the edge.

That was when Ethan Grant appeared.

He stepped in front of the knife, protected my son Luca, and treated us with a kind of gentleness that almost felt unreal.

And just when I was about to fall for him, he tore off the mask.

That was when I realized I had only fallen from one trap into another.

I slammed the door and tried to leave. He caught my wrist and dropped the truth that shattered what was left of me.

"That child you gave birth to six years ago? He's mine."

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At two-thirty in the morning, the underground parking garage of Harbor Grand Hotel felt like a walk-in freezer.

The ventilation system rumbled overhead like some dying beast dragging out its last breath.

My name is Evie Lane. I am thirty-five years old, and I am the deputy lobby manager of this luxury hotel.

By day, I wear tailored suits, eight-centimeter heels, and a smile polished enough to survive the worst guests money can buy.

By night, I drag my exhausted body through a custody war over my son, Luca.

Life had become a grinder, and I could feel it stripping me down piece by piece.

My calves throbbed. My stomach burned from a day lived on black coffee. When I hit my key fob, my battered used car flashed twice in the dark.

The second I touched the handle, a rough hand reeking of cigarettes and cheap liquor slammed against the door.

"Evie Lane, how much longer are you going to hide from me?"

I knew that voice even before I looked up.

Derek Cole. My ex-husband. Gambler. Liar. Human ruin.

Every drop of blood in my body seemed to rush backward. I turned and saw the bloated, sleepless face I hated more than anything.

"What are you doing here?" I took a step back until my spine hit the cold window. "This is my workplace. Leave now, or I call security."

"Go ahead. Call them." He moved closer instead. "Let everyone at your precious hotel see what kind of woman Evie Lane really is. A bitch who won't even let the father see his own son."

We had been divorced for two years, and still he clung to my life like rot that would not wash off.

"Custody will be decided in family court," I said, forcing my voice steady while my hand slid toward my bag for my phone. "We have nothing to discuss."

"Don't hide behind family court."

He grabbed my wrist so hard I almost cried out.

My bag hit the floor. My phone skidded away and stopped by his shoe.

"Listen carefully, Evie. If you want me to give up custody of Luca, you pay me. Thirty grand. No, fifty. If you don't, I go to his preschool tomorrow and take him myself."

Spit hit my cheek. The smell of alcohol made my stomach twist.

"You're insane. That's your son. You can't use him like this."

"I can't eat. I don't care about a kid." His other hand caught my collar. "If you don't pay, you're not leaving this garage tonight."

Fear flooded through me.

At this hour, no one came down here.

"Let go of me! Help!"

His answer was a brutal slap.

My ears rang. The taste of blood bloomed in my mouth. I lost my footing and hit the concrete hard, skin ripping across my palm.

"Ungrateful bitch."

He lifted his foot to kick me.

I shut my eyes.

"If you do that," a cold male voice cut through the garage, "I can promise you'll spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair."

Derek froze.

I looked up.

A man stepped out from the shadow of a support column.

Tall. Immaculate dark gray suit. Black briefcase in one hand. Even in that dim, filthy garage, he carried himself with an ease that felt almost cruel.

His dress shoes struck the concrete in slow, measured steps, like a countdown.

"Who the hell are you?" Derek barked, though he had already retreated half a step.

The man ignored him and stopped in front of me.

He looked down once, taking in my swollen cheek and bleeding palm with a glance so brief it barely seemed human.

"Ms. Lane," he said evenly. "I am Ethan Grant. Your attorney."

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