Chapter 1

For seven years, I was his secret. His brilliant, naive Elodie. Last night, he held me and called me his future.

Today, his sister, my best friend, showed me the pictures from his engagement party.

My life's work, a revolutionary bio-printed kidney, was meant to save his dying fiancée. But then I overheard his real plan. If my research failed, he had a backup.

"She's got a nice pair of kidneys," he told his friends. "Perfect match."

He'd secretly filmed our most intimate moments, blackmail to force me onto the operating table. I wasn't his love. I was his insurance policy. A spare part.

He thought he had me cornered. He underestimated his "naive little scientist."

So I faked my death and disappeared.

Five years later, I'm back, my name on the cover of every scientific journal. And he's about to find out that the woman he tried to butcher is now the one who holds his entire world in her hands.

Chapter 1

Elodie POV:

For seven years, I was his secret. His brilliant, naive Elodie. Last night, he held me and called me his future. Today, his sister, my best friend, showed me the pictures from his engagement party.

The sterile, clinging scent of antiseptic and polymer gel followed me out of the lab, a perfume I' d worn for most of my adult life. As a biomedical engineer, my world was a precise, controlled environment of bio-printers, hydrogels, and the tantalizing promise of creating life from scratch. I lived in a world of data, of cellular scaffolds, of organs that grew in petri dishes instead of bodies. It was a world I understood, a world I could control.

People, on the other hand, were a chaotic, unpredictable variable I mostly avoided.

My only exception, my one great, sprawling, secret indulgence, was Barrett Ball.

For seven years, he had been the hidden corner of my hyper-focused life. The venture capitalist who ostensibly funded my research, the charismatic older brother of my best friend, the man whose touch could unravel the tightly-wound coil of my scientific mind. He was my anchor and my storm, all at once.

I pushed the door to my apartment open, the exhaustion of a sixteen-hour workday settling deep into my bones. The latest batch of kidney prototypes had shown a ninety-two percent viability rate. We were close. So close.

"You're finally back!"

A whirlwind of blonde hair and Chanel No. 5 slammed into me. Anona Ball, my best friend and the unwitting link to her brother, squeezed the air from my lungs.

"Anona," I wheezed, my arms pinned to my sides. "Can't... breathe."

My body, accustomed to the quiet solitude of the lab, recoiled from the sudden, enthusiastic contact.

"Let her breathe, Nona," I managed to get out, patting her back awkwardly.

She pulled back, grinning, not a hint of offense in her bright blue eyes. "Sorry, El! I' m just so excited to see you. You' ve been buried in that lab for weeks."

"I told you I was at a critical stage," I said, dropping my keys into the ceramic bowl by the door. "Did you try calling?"

She waved a dismissive hand, her fingers sparkling with rings. "Oh, please. You never answer. Besides, we were all swamped with Barrett' s engagement party. It was absolutely insane."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Not a punch, but a sudden, nauseating drop, like an elevator car snapping its cables. The air in my lungs, which I had just reclaimed, seemed to vanish again.

Engagement party.

My mind snagged on the phrase, refusing to process it. It was a glitch in the code, a foreign variable that didn't compute.

Anona continued, oblivious to the way my world had just tilted on its axis. "It was epic. Dad flew in the caterers from Paris, and the floral arrangements alone probably cost more than my car. You should have seen it, El. The whole place was a dream."

I stood frozen, the heavy strap of my laptop bag digging into my shoulder. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak.

"Elodie?" she asked, her smile finally faltering as she took in my face. "Are you okay? You look pale."

My voice was a tremor, a ghost of its usual self. "Barrett's... engagement party?"

"Yeah!" she said, her enthusiasm returning. "To Dallas, of course. She looked like an actual princess. That dress? Custom Vera Wang. Barrett couldn't take his eyes off her."

Dallas Fernandez. The beautiful, fragile socialite. The woman who desperately needed a kidney transplant. The woman Barrett had always described as a "family friend."

My mind raced, trying to find a loophole, a different version of the story. "Barrett... like, a cousin? Another Barrett in your family I don't know about?" The question sounded insane even as I asked it, a desperate, pathetic grab at a reality that was slipping through my fingers.

Anona laughed, a light, tinkling sound that grated on my raw nerves. "Silly! My brother, Barrett Ball! Who else? He and Dallas are finally tying the knot. Isn't it romantic?"

The word "romantic" lodged in my throat, choking me.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Anona's brow furrowed with genuine concern. "You look like you're about to pass out."

"No, I'm... I'm fine," I lied, my voice hollow. "Just tired. Can I see? A picture?" I needed to see it. I needed the final, irrefutable data point to confirm the death of my world.

"Of course!" Anona beamed, pulling out her phone. She swiped through a few pictures before landing on one. "Look! Aren't they perfect together?"

There they were. Barrett, my Barrett, in a tailored tuxedo that I knew cost a small fortune. His arm was wrapped possessively around the waist of Dallas Fernandez. She was stunning in a glimmering silver gown, her head resting on his shoulder. They were smiling, the picture of happiness and high-society perfection.

But it wasn't their smiles that made my stomach clench. It was the watch on Barrett's wrist. A Patek Philippe. The one I had saved for two years to buy him for our fifth anniversary. He had told me he' d never take it off.

And there, in the caption below the photo, tagged for all the world to see: Barrett & Dallas: A Match Made in Heaven.

The memory of last night slammed into me. Him, lying in my bed, his fingers tracing patterns on my back. Just a little longer, Elodie, he' d murmured into my hair. Once this project is successful, we can tell everyone. You and me. It' s always been you.

Lies. It was all lies.

A tremor started in my hands, a low-frequency vibration that spread through my entire body. My throat felt thick, clogged with unshed tears and a scream I couldn't release.

"El?" Anona's voice was a distant buzz.

"I'm... I just need to lie down," I mumbled, pulling away from her, from the phone, from the devastating truth it displayed. "Long day."

I didn't wait for her response. I stumbled towards my bedroom, my sanctuary, which now felt like a crime scene. I shut the door and twisted the lock, the click echoing the final, definitive snap of my heart.

Anona's voice came, muffled, from the other side. "Okay... I'll just order some takeout for us. You probably forgot to eat again."

She thought I was overworked. She thought I was just tired. The innocence of it was another form of cruelty.

The moment the lock clicked, my legs gave out. I slid down the door, the sob I' d been strangling finally ripping from my chest. It was a raw, ugly sound. The sound of seven years of love, of trust, of a shared secret future, turning to ash in my mouth.

Seven years. I was his dirty little secret. The brilliant girl in the lab, good enough to sleep with, good enough to develop a life-saving technology for his real fiancée, but not good enough to be seen with in the light of day.

That picture. The way he looked at her. It was the same look he gave me. The same intense, focused adoration that made me feel like the only person in the world.

Was any of it real?

The thought was a fresh wave of nausea. The past seven years, every stolen weekend, every whispered "I love you," every promise of a future together-it all replayed in my mind, now tainted, grotesque. It wasn't love. It was a transaction. And I was the only one who hadn't known the terms.

A burning rage started to smolder beneath the grief. I wouldn't be his fool. I wouldn't be his convenient, hidden asset.

I had to know. I had to hear it from him.

Scrambling to my feet, I grabbed my laptop. My fingers, still shaking, flew across the keyboard. Barrett was a man of habit. If he wasn't at a board meeting or a fundraiser, he was at the same exclusive cigar lounge downtown, holding court with his circle of equally wealthy, arrogant friends.

A quick search of his public calendar confirmed it: "Boys' Night - The Oak Room."

I wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand, the salty tracks stinging my skin. The grief was a storm, but my scientific mind was already reasserting control, demanding evidence, demanding the truth, no matter how ugly.

I grabbed my car keys from the bowl by the door, ignoring Anona' s call from the living room. "El? The food's here!"

I didn't answer. I just walked out, the slam of the apartment door behind me a declaration of war.

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