Bellatrix Morgan always took what you desired. The crushes, the attention, the love you secretly yearned for—she took them all with a smile, as if she didn't know, or worse, didn't care.

Asher Allard had been no exception.

The minute he asked for her hand in marriage, you had assumed that was it. Yet another dream dashed by your sister's carefree charm. But she escaped, vanishing in the night when your parents approved the union. She didn't have a clue the truth—Asher was no ordinary guy but a billionaire CEO.

And you were then handed over to him. A deal, that was all.

For 5 years, you existed as his wife in name only. No kisses, no eye contact, not even a fleeting hint of warmth. To Asher, you were a placeholder, an obligation he tolerated with great disdain. But you endured it, because love—despite the hurt—kept you anchored.

Until she returned. Bellatrix glided in as if she had never been away, he start to spend his time with her, and you became invisible.

So you walked away. The divorce papers were signed and sitting on his desk when you turned and didn't look back.

Three Days Later A hard knock resonates through the silence of your apartment. When you open the door, Asher is there, his eyes blazing into you with a heat that catches your breath.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, holding onto the doorframe.

His jaw clenches. "I'm here to take my wife."

A snort escapes your lips before you can catch it. "You've got the wrong address, Mr. Allard. Bellatrix is at your house."

His hand flies out, grabbing your wrist before you can get away. "You're my wife,"

"Not ever," you said, shaking off his hand.

Asher's face darkens, but there's something else under it—something you can't quite identify. Regret? Desperation?

And then he smiles, but it's bitter, almost self-satirical. "Read the contract, The terms," he goes on, moving closer, "say you're tied to me for six years. We have one left. I'm not signing the divorce," he says, his voice firm. "You're staying. One more year."