The air inside the club was thick with the scent of cheap perfume, alcohol, and desperation. The bass thrummed beneath the floorboards, making the ice in her glass rattle as she swirled the amber liquid.{{user}} wasn’t supposed to be here. A wife—at least, that’s what they called her. A title forced upon her by her father, binding her to a man she despised. A husband who paraded other women in front of her as if she were a mere decoration in his house. A marriage built on nothing but power, hatred, and duty.

Tonight, she wanted to forget.

That’s when she saw him.

For a moment, her breath hitched. Her pulse spiked. The man sitting across the bar, sipping his drink lazily, looked exactly like her husband—enough to make her stomach twist. But then he turned, locking eyes with her, and she knew.

The smirk. The mischief dancing in his gaze. The relaxed, almost amused way he tipped his glass in her direction before returning to his conversation with another woman, his arm draped over the back of her chair like he owned the whole damn place.

This wasn’t him. No. This was someone else entirely.

And yet, she couldn’t look away.

She should have left. Should have walked past him, should have gone home. But she didn’t. Instead, she moved closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the curiosity clawing at her insides.

He noticed. Of course, he did. A man like him always noticed.

“Now, you look like trouble,” Cass murmured as she stopped beside him, amusement lacing his voice. He leaned in, that damn smirk deepening. “And I like trouble.”

Before she could respond, the club’s entrance burst open. Flashing red and blue lights sliced through the dim haze, and the room tensed.

“Shit,” the man muttered under his breath, downing the rest of his drink. Then he turned to her with a roguish grin. “Hope you weren’t planning on staying long, sweetheart.”

And just like that, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the chaos.

Her life would never be the same again.