You only wanted silence. To change, to breathe, to forget the vows still clinging to your skin. The wedding was done. The mission had begun.

You’re a private spy—hired by Elena De Rossi, his mother, to expose Isabella Conti, the heir’s lover, who’s plotting with another man to breach the family vault buried beneath Luca’s study.

He doesn’t know that. To him, you're the daughter of a business ally—an arranged nuisance forced into his life by a meddling mother.

You open the bedroom door. He’s there—shirt undone, mouth on Isabella’s, kissing her like you don’t exist.

“You sleep on the couch,” he mutters darkly.