Chapter 1

The night before Valentine's Day, my husband, Don Adrian Moretti, took a handful of his inner circle to the family estate in the northern mountains.

Before we left, he suggested drawing lots for the front passenger seat.

"Let Chloe draw first. She's fragile—sitting in the back would make her sick."

Chloe Reed was his newly hired assistant. She drew the front seat without a hitch.

She sat there wrapped in the cashmere blanket I'd picked out for Adrian, sipping warm water from his thermos, smiling with that look of innocence.

"I guess I'll keep Boss company up front then. Sorry Emma has to sit in the back."

Adrian gripped the steering wheel. Didn't even turn his head.

"What's there to be sorry about? Everyone agreed to the rules. Emma, don't make a scene."

Chloe turned to look at me, her eyes reddening on cue.

"Emma, do you want to switch?"

Adrian cut her off immediately.

"Sit still. Emma can tough out a little carsickness. Your stomach can't handle the bumps."

I sat in the far corner of the back seat, my fingers clenched around the diagnostic report in my coat pocket.

It said I was five weeks pregnant.

When the convoy pulled into a rest stop, Chloe bumped the playback button on the dashcam.

Adrian's voice suddenly filled the car.

"Mark that slip of paper so Chloe draws the front seat. She'll get carsick in the back. I need to look after her."

The car went dead silent.

I looked out the window.

So his passenger seat had someone else's name written on it from the very beginning.

I pushed open the car door, dragged my suitcase from the trunk, and turned toward the rest stop.

Behind me, a car door slammed shut.

"Emma."

Adrian caught up and grabbed the handle of my suitcase.

"What are you doing making a scene out here? Get in the car."

"I'm not riding."

He frowned.

"Everyone's watching. Can you not do this every single time?"

The window of the car behind us rolled down. Elena, Vince Russo's wife, leaned out.

"Emma, get in first. It's freezing out here—we can sort it out at the estate."

Chloe got out too, draped in that cashmere blanket, her voice trembling.

"Is it because I sat up front? Are you upset? I'll switch with you."

She'd barely taken two steps before Adrian pressed a hand on her shoulder.

"Go back. It's windy. If your stomach starts hurting again, it'll be trouble."

The electronic sign at the rest stop scrolled a red alert:

"ROAD CLOSURE AHEAD DUE TO HEAVY SNOWFALL IN MOUNTAIN AREA."

Adrian saw it too.

"Get in. We'll talk at the estate."

The snow didn't give me another road.

I let go of my suitcase and got back in the rear seat.

Up front, Chloe asked softly, "Boss, is the AC a little cold? Want me to turn it up?"

Adrian said, "Adjust it however you like. Don't make yourself uncomfortable."

The car jolted hard over a patch of ice.

A sharp cramp seized my lower abdomen. Cold sweat broke out instantly.

I gripped the armrest.

Adrian glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Sit tight. Don't hit the glass."

He never seemed to remember that my stomach wasn't great either.

Two-plus hours later, the convoy stopped in front of the mountain estate.

Adrian got out and went straight to the passenger side to open Chloe's door.

"Careful, it's slippery." He steadied her.

Meanwhile, my fingers were so numb I tried twice and couldn't push my door open.

Vince came over and pulled it open for me. "Emma, are you all right? You look terrible."

I shook my head, gripped the door frame, and stood. My vision went black for a moment.

Only then did Adrian look my way. "Why do you look so awful? Get inside."

He reached out to help me. I stepped away.

"No need. Thank you."

His hand hovered for a second, then withdrew. He turned and carried Chloe's luggage instead.

The estate manager said the blizzard had stranded too many guests. There weren't enough rooms—only one master suite with a bathroom, and a few cots set up at the end of the hallway.

Everyone looked at Adrian.

Before he could speak, Chloe suddenly clutched her stomach and doubled over, sweat beading on her forehead.

"I'm fine." She waved her hand. "Emma and Boss should take the master suite. I'll manage anywhere."

Adrian steadied her, then turned to me.

"Emma, let her have it. Her stomach can't take the cold."

He said, "I'll make it up to you next time."

Next time, again.

Over the years, his IOUs of "next time" had piled up beyond counting.

I walked to the front desk and took the key marked "storage."

Behind me came a few relieved chuckles and the sound of Adrian coaxing Chloe.

The storage room was at the end of the hallway. No heating. The bed was narrow.

I set down my luggage, sat on the edge of the bed, and took out my phone.

In my contacts, Adrian's label still read "Husband."

I stared at it for a few seconds, then changed it to his full name.

Adrian Moretti.

Half an hour later, there was a knock. Adrian's voice came through the door.

"I know you're upset. But today—wasn't this whole arrangement because I was afraid you wouldn't agree?"

He knocked twice more.

"Emma, open up. I made some ginger tea."

I looked down at the wastebasket by the foot of the bed.

Inside was a wad of tissue stained dark red with blood.

After a long silence, he knocked two more times. Then his footsteps faded away.