Chapter 1: The Man I Married

The first time I met Ethan Carter, I had no idea I was looking at a man who didn't exist.

If someone had told me that morning that I would be married before the week ended, I would have laughed in their face.

Marriage wasn't part of my plans.

At twenty-three, I was still trying to figure out what I wanted from life. I had spent most of my childhood in New York, surrounded by an ordinary family, ordinary problems, and an ordinary life.

California was supposed to be my fresh start.

I had moved there at sixteen for school, and over the years, I had learned how to live on my own. I wasn't the loudest person in the room, but I wasn't shy either. I knew how to have fun without spending money I didn't have, and I had never been impressed by expensive cars or designer clothes.

Maybe that's why I didn't recognize the warning signs when Ethan walked into my life.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when I first saw him.

I was sitting in a small café near campus, staring at my laptop while trying to finish an assignment I had already postponed twice.

My coffee had gone cold.

My phone was at twelve percent.

And I had exactly forty-three dollars left in my account.

Then someone sat across from me.

I looked up.

The man was dressed simply—a black shirt, dark trousers, and a silver watch that probably cost more than everything I owned combined.

He looked to be in his late twenties.

Calm.

Handsome.

And strangely emotionless.

"Jasmine Parker?"

I frowned.

"Yes?"

He placed a thin black folder on the table.

"My name is Ethan Carter."

"I didn't ask."

For the first time, something almost resembling amusement appeared in his eyes.

"I know."

I closed my laptop.

"Then why are you here?"

He leaned back.

"I have a proposal for you."

I almost laughed.

"Are you selling something?"

"No."

"Then you're probably in the wrong café."

He didn't move.

Instead, he opened the folder and pushed a document toward me.

I looked down.

The first line made my stomach tighten.

MARRIAGE AGREEMENT.

I looked back at him.

Then at the document.

Then at him again.

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

I pushed the folder back.

"You've got the wrong person."

"I don't."

"You don't even know me."

"I know enough."

Something about the way he said it made the hairs on my arms rise.

"How do you know my name?"

"I did my research."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

I stood up.

"Okay. This conversation is officially over."

"Your mother's medical bills."

I froze.

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag.

Slowly, I turned around.

"What did you say?"

Ethan's expression hadn't changed.

"Your mother has been struggling with her medical expenses."

My heart began beating faster.

"You've been investigating my family?"

"I've been investigating you."

"Why?"

He stood.

At six feet or more, he suddenly seemed even more intimidating.

"Because I need a wife."

I stared at him.

"You need a psychiatrist."

He ignored the comment.

"Six months."

"What?"

"Our marriage would last six months."

I laughed nervously.

"You cannot be serious."

"I am."

"And what exactly do I get?"

"One hundred thousand dollars."

My mouth fell open.

For a moment, the café seemed to disappear around me.

One hundred thousand dollars.

That amount could change everything.

My mother's bills.

My tuition.

The small debts I had been pretending weren't growing.

But there had to be a catch.

"There is one condition," he said.

Of course.

"What?"

"You cannot ask questions about my family."

I stared at him.

"Your family?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you don't need to know anything about them."

"That's not how marriage works."

"It's not a real marriage."

He picked up the contract.

"It's an arrangement."

I looked at the document again.

Six months.

One hundred thousand dollars.

No questions about his family.

No romantic expectations.

No interference in each other's personal lives.

And after six months, we would go our separate ways.

It sounded insane.

It was insane.

Yet there I was, reading every line.

"What happens if I refuse?"

"Nothing."

He placed the contract back on the table.

"But I'll find someone else."

There was something about those words that bothered me.

Not because he would find someone else.

Because he sounded like he had done this before.

I looked at him carefully.

"Why me?"

For the first time, his expression changed.

Only slightly.

But I noticed.

"Because you're exactly what I need."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you have no connection to my world."

I frowned.

"What world?"

He stood and buttoned his jacket.

"Exactly."

Then he walked away.

I remained at the table, staring at the contract.

I should have left it there.

I should have forgotten about Ethan Carter.

Instead, three days later, I signed it.

And on Friday evening, I became his wife.

The wedding was small.

Almost suspiciously small.

There were no cameras.

No friends.

No family.

No celebration.

Just two witnesses, a lawyer, Ethan and me.

When the officiant asked if I accepted him as my husband, I glanced at Ethan.

His face was unreadable.

"Yes," I whispered.

He answered a second later.

"Yes."

That was it.

We were married.

Afterward, Ethan drove me to a house I had never seen before.

I stared through the car window as the gates opened.

My mouth slowly fell open.

The house wasn't a house.

It was a mansion.

Huge windows.

Perfect gardens.

A driveway that looked longer than the street I grew up on.

I turned toward him.

"You said you were an ordinary businessman."

"I said I was a businessman."

"You made it sound like you lived in a normal apartment."

He glanced at me.

"I didn't lie."

I crossed my arms.

"You just conveniently left out the mansion."

He almost smiled.

Almost.

Inside, everything was beautiful.

Too beautiful.

Everything seemed carefully arranged, as though no one actually lived there.

A housekeeper showed me to my room.

My room.

Not our room.

That was one of the rules in the contract.

Separate bedrooms.

Separate lives.

A marriage in name only.

Later that night, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my wedding ring.

It felt strange.

I was married.

To a man I barely knew.

A man who had found me, researched my family, offered me money and asked me not to ask questions.

I should have been afraid.

Instead, I was tired.

I lay down.

Just as I closed my eyes, I heard voices downstairs.

I sat up.

The voices became clearer.

One voice belonged to Ethan.

The other was unfamiliar.

"...you can't keep pretending this is going to work."

Ethan's voice was cold.

"I know what I'm doing."

"You've already made one mistake."

Silence.

Then the stranger spoke again.

"Does she know who you are?"

My heart stopped.

I leaned closer to the door.

Ethan answered.

"No."

"Does she know about the Blackwoods?"

Another silence.

Then Ethan said something that made my blood run cold.

"She can't know."

I slowly stepped backward.

Blackwoods?

Who were the Blackwoods?

And why did Ethan Carter sound like he was hiding from them?

I turned to return to my room.

Then I heard footsteps coming up the stairs

Fast.

I rushed inside and closed my door.

Seconds later, there was a knock.

Three slow knocks.

I held my breath.

"Jasmine?"

Ethan.

I didn't answer.

"Are you awake?"

I looked at the wedding ring on my finger.

Then at the locked door.

"Yes."

The handle moved.

But the door didn't open.

"I need to tell you something," he said.

My heart pounded.

"What?"

There was a long pause.

Then his voice came through the door.

"Tomorrow, you're going to meet my family."

I swallowed.

"Okay."

Another pause.

"And Jasmine?"

"Yes?"

His voice became quieter.

"Whatever they tell you about me..."

He stopped.

I waited.

"...don't believe them."

Then his footsteps disappeared down the hallway.

I stood frozen in the middle of my room.

I didn't know it then.

But that was the first night I realized something was terribly wrong with the man I had married.

Because Ethan Carter wasn't afraid of his family.

He was afraid of what his family would tell me about him.