Chapter 1

My seven-year marriage to the heir Kobe Kidd began as a contract. I was the respectable placeholder wife he needed. In exchange, I got the stability I'd craved my whole life. I kept my side of the bargain perfectly, except for one mistake: I fell in love with him.

Then, his first love, Felicie, came back into the picture. Suddenly, I wasn't a wife; I was an obstacle. After our car crashed, he scrambled to save an unconscious Felicie from the wreckage, leaving me trapped inside the smoking vehicle without a second glance.

I survived the explosion, only to face something worse. When Felicie was stabbed by her own violent ex after using me as a human shield, she told Kobe I'd hired the man to kill her.

He believed her instantly.

He didn't check the cameras. He didn't ask me a single question. He just looked at me with pure, undiluted hatred and had me thrown into the mansion's cold, dark basement.

I was locked away for days, screaming for a man who had already left me to burn. I finally understood. It didn't matter what the truth was. I wasn't her, and that was the only crime that mattered.

So I finalized our divorce, walked away without looking back, and started a new life. But months later, he found me. He showed up in my small café an ocean away, his eyes full of regret, begging for a second chance.

He said he finally knew the truth.

He said he loved me.

Chapter 1

"The transfer will be completed within three days. Make sure the papers are ready." Delma Puckett' s voice was steady, a stark contrast to the storm raging outside the window.

On the other end of the line, the lawyer, a man hired by her mother-in-law, sounded pleased. "Of course, Mrs. Kidd. The amount is satisfactory. Mr. Kidd will be ready to sign."

Delma ignored the title. It wouldn't be hers for much longer. "Good. I'll be there this afternoon."

She hung up without waiting for a reply, her fingers resting on the phone for a moment before she set it down. Her gaze fell on the platinum wedding band on her finger. It was heavy, studded with diamonds that seemed to catch and hold the gloomy light from the window, but they gave off no warmth.

It was a perfect ring. A symbol of a perfect, seven-year marriage to a perfect heir, Kobe Kidd. But it was all a facade.

She twisted the ring, the metal cold against her skin. The coldness took her back seven years, to another rainy day.

It was the first time she had seen him.

The rain was relentless, soaking the city in a gray misery. Delma was working as a waitress for a high-end catering company, a side job to make ends meet. The event was a lavish garden party, hastily moved indoors, at a mansion in the wealthiest part of town.

She saw him across the crowded room, a man who stood out not just for his tailored suit, but for the intense focus in his eyes. He was Kobe Kidd. Even someone like Delma, who didn't follow celebrity gossip, knew his name. The Kidd family was practically royalty in this city.

He wasn't looking at the business magnates or socialites around him. His attention was entirely on a stunningly beautiful woman with fiery red hair.

"That's Kobe Kidd," a guest whispered near Delma's station. "He's been chasing Felicie Richardson for months."

"She's playing hard to get, but who could resist him?" another replied with a laugh.

Delma knew the name. Felicie Richardson was an actress on the rise, famous for her beauty and a string of well-publicized, short-lived romances.

But Felicie didn't look like she was playing hard to get. She looked annoyed.

"Kobe, please," Felicie said, her voice loud enough for those nearby to hear. "I'm trying to talk to my friends." She turned her back on him, a clear dismissal.

He didn't flinch. He simply waited, his posture unchanging. A few minutes later, he had a waiter deliver a small, velvet box to her table. Felicie opened it, and her friends gasped. A diamond necklace glittered inside.

Felicie smiled, a tight, practiced expression. She didn't put it on. She just snapped the box shut and handed it to a friend, who quickly pocketed it.

Later, Delma was clearing plates near the patio doors when she heard Felicie talking to that same friend.

"Why don't you just tell him you're not interested?" the friend asked. "You know you're still seeing Mark."

Felicie laughed, a sharp, unpleasant sound. "Are you crazy? As long as he's interested, the gifts keep coming. Besides, the attention is good for my career. Let him waste his time. Men like him have plenty of it."

Delma felt a knot of disgust tighten in her stomach. She had grown up in the foster system, bounced from one home to another. She knew the value of a dollar, the weight of every meal. To see such casual cruelty and wastefulness made something in her snap.

She watched as Felicie finally left the party, breezing past Kobe without a second glance. He stood there for a moment, his handsome face unreadable, before turning to leave.

On sheer impulse, Delma put down her tray of empty glasses. She walked straight up to him as he neared the exit.

"She's using you," Delma said, her voice low but clear.

Kobe stopped. He turned to look at her, his eyes cold and assessing. He took in her simple black-and-white uniform, her plain face. She was nothing like the glamorous women he was used to.

"She has a boyfriend," Delma continued, her heart starting to pound. "She just likes the gifts and the attention. She was laughing about it with her friend."

He remained silent, his expression unchanging.

Delma took a breath, the craziest, most desperate idea of her life bubbling to the surface. "You need a wife, don't you? Someone to satisfy your family, to look the part. You're wasting your time and money on her."

She met his gaze directly. "Marry me."

His silence stretched, heavy and unnerving.

"It would be a contract," she pressed on, her voice gaining strength. "I won't love you. I won't cheat on you. I will play the part of the perfect wife. In return, I get financial security. A home. Something I've never had. I'm a much better investment than she is."

For the first time, a flicker of something-surprise, maybe amusement-crossed his face. He studied her for a long, quiet moment.

"Fine," he said.

Just like that, their seven-year story began. It started as a transaction. Delma, who had spent her life feeling disposable, was driven by a desperate need for stability. Dignity, she believed, was something you could buy.

But a strange thing happened over those seven years. Kobe, the distant, aloof heir, was a man of his word. He was respectful, considerate in his own detached way. He never demanded more than their contract stipulated. He remembered she didn't like onions, and he made sure the house staff knew. He bought her a small bookstore when she mentioned she loved to read.

Slowly, against all her better judgment, Delma fell in love with him. She started to believe that this transactional marriage could become something real. That one day, he might look at her with the same warmth she felt for him.

She had allowed herself to hope.

Then, six months ago, Felicie Richardson came back.

Her family had gone bankrupt, her acting career had stalled, and she was desperate. Kobe, in what Delma now understood was a mix of pity and lingering affection, gave her a job as his executive assistant.

The change in him was immediate and devastating. Delma saw the way his eyes followed Felicie in a room. She heard the softness in his voice when he spoke to her on the phone. It was a tone he had never used with Delma.

The final blow came a month ago. Delma had gone to his office to bring him lunch, something she rarely did. She pushed the door open a crack and saw him sitting at his desk, staring at his phone. On the screen was a picture of Felicie, smiling. The look on Kobe's face was one of profound, heartbreaking longing.

It was a look he had never, not once, given her.

In that instant, Delma understood. She had never been a wife. She had been a placeholder. A convenient, respectable stand-in until the real star of the show was ready to return.

The rain outside intensified, drumming against the glass, mirroring the cold dread that had been her constant companion for weeks. That was the day she decided to cut her losses. In the world she came from, you learned to recognize a losing game and walk away before you lost everything.

She had already lost her heart. She wouldn't lose her dignity, too.

She put on her coat, grabbed the envelope with the signed divorce papers, and walked out into the rain.

Kobe's office was on the top floor of the Kidd Enterprises building. The receptionist tried to stop her, but Delma walked past her without a word. She knew the way.

As she approached the double doors of his office, they opened. Felicie Richardson stepped out, a triumphant smirk on her face.

"Delma," Felicie said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "What a surprise. Are you here to see Kobe?"

"I'm here to drop something off," Delma said, her voice flat. She held up the envelope.

Felicie's eyes lit up with understanding. "Oh, is that what I think it is? Let me help you. Kobe is very busy."

She reached for the envelope, but Delma pulled it back. "I'll give it to him myself."

Felicie's smile tightened. "Don't be difficult. You know he doesn't want to see you. He's with me now."

"I'm still his wife," Delma stated, not as a claim, but as a simple fact. "Let me pass."

"Wife?" Felicie let out a short, cruel laugh. "You were just a seat-warmer. And now, I'm back. The seat is mine."

At that moment, the office door opened wider, and Kobe stepped out. He saw the two of them and his brow furrowed. "What's going on?"

His eyes flickered to Delma, then to the envelope in her hand, and a look of weary annoyance crossed his face.

"Kobe, darling," Felicie cooed, immediately moving to his side and linking her arm with his. "Delma is here. She has the papers you've been waiting for."

Kobe looked at Delma, his expression cold. "Give them to me."

Delma's heart felt like a block of ice in her chest. She had held onto a tiny, foolish sliver of hope that he might hesitate, that he might show some flicker of regret. There was none.

She walked forward and handed him the envelope.

He took it, not even looking at her as he opened it. Felicie leaned over his shoulder, her eyes scanning the document. "It's all in order," she said, pointing to the signature line. "Sign it, Kobe. Let's get this over with."

With a smooth, practiced motion, Kobe took a pen from his pocket and signed his name. He didn't hesitate. He didn't look up.

The finality of it hit Delma with the force of a physical blow. It was done. Seven years, erased with a scribble of ink.

Felicie took the signed papers from his hand. She walked back to Delma, a victorious glint in her eyes. Instead of handing them over, she let them drop. The papers fluttered to the plush carpet at Delma's feet.

"There you go," Felicie said with a smirk. "Everything that was mine is finally mine again."

Delma looked from the papers on the floor to Felicie's triumphant face, then to Kobe, who stood by, his face a mask of indifference. He hadn't even flinched at Felicie's blatant act of humiliation.

"You're wrong," Delma said, her voice quiet but firm. "You didn't take anything that was yours. You just picked up something I threw away."

Felicie's face contorted with rage. "You bitch-"

"Let's make a bet, Felicie," Delma cut her off, a strange calm settling over her. "Let's see how long you can keep him this time."

"What are you talking about?" Felicie snapped, grabbing Delma's arm. "You think you can just walk away?"

"Yes," Delma said, pulling her arm free.

Suddenly, there was a loud creaking sound from above. A large, decorative shelving unit, overloaded with heavy books and awards, was tilting precariously from the wall.

Delma's eyes widened. She instinctively tried to step back.

Felicie, in a flash of panic, shoved Delma hard, putting her directly in the path of the falling shelf.

A deafening crash echoed through the hallway.