Chapter 1

The wedding ring felt cold and heavy on my finger.

Scarlett Miller, my wife of exactly twelve hours, tossed her phone onto the plush hotel bed.

"Change of plans, Liam."

"What about Hawaii?" I asked. The word felt foreign, a dream I was about to lose.

"A business opportunity came up," she said, not looking at me. She was already pulling a sleek black dress from her suitcase. "Something big in Eastern Europe. Dylan says it' s a game-changer for the label."

Dylan. Her right-hand man. The guy whose smile never reached his eyes.

"But... our honeymoon," I said, my voice smaller than I wanted.

Scarlett finally turned, her expression one of mild annoyance, like I was a fly she had to swat away. "This is the honeymoon, Liam. My world. Miller Records. You're a part of it now. This is more important than a beach."

Her world. I was just living in it.

I was the charity case, the son of the brilliant songwriter who signed away his legacy to the Millers. In exchange, they took me in, raised me alongside their perfect daughter. I fell in love with her before I even knew what love was. I thought she felt it too.

The last ten years of my life had been dedicated to her, to proving I was worthy. This wedding was supposed to be the culmination of that. A public relations masterpiece for the Miller brand, sure, but for me, it was real.

Now, standing in that sterile hotel room, watching her pack for a business trip with another man on our wedding night, I felt the first crack in that reality.

"Okay," I heard myself say. "Okay, Scarlett."

Because that' s what I always did. I agreed. I went along. I loved her.

The music festival was a chaotic mess in a country I couldn't pronounce. Mud, cheap beer, and the tense energy of a coming storm. Not a political storm, a real one. No, wait. Both.

Dylan was in his element, schmoozing with some local promoter. Scarlett stood beside him, a queen surveying a crumbling kingdom, looking utterly bored and out of place.

I just wanted to go home.

Then the shouting started. It began at the edge of the crowd, a ripple of anger that quickly became a wave. Protest signs shot up. People were running.

"What's happening?" I yelled over the noise, grabbing Scarlett's arm.

She shook me off. "Dylan, get the car. Now."

He nodded, already moving. "This way, Scarlett. The back route is clear."

They started pushing through the panicked crowd. I followed, trying to keep up. A bottle shattered near my head. The sound of something that wasn't fireworks cracked through the air.

"Scarlett, wait!" I screamed.

She glanced back, her face a mask of cold calculation. Dylan grabbed her hand and pulled her toward a black sedan idling just beyond the chaos.

I was five feet from the car door when a surge of bodies slammed into me, knocking me to the muddy ground. I looked up, gasping for air, just in time to see the car's taillights disappear into the night.

They were gone.

They left me.

My phone, my wallet with my passport, my entire life was in the hotel room they were driving away from.

The riot swallowed me whole.