Sweat breaks across Richard’s forehead as he watches the weapon with widened eyes. “W-what is that for?”

“Continue.” I stalk toward him. “You were at the part where the stupid bitch clawed you and kicked your minuscule balls.”

He lifts both hands in the air. “H-hey…we can talk about this, yeah? I’m an asset to you.”

“Not when you touch my fucking wife.” I place the muzzle to his forehead, then think better of it and grab my knife.

I’m going to make this fucking personal and stab him until all his blood pours out.

No one touches Lia and lives.

No fucking one.

After I’m done with Richard, I don’t rejoin Kolya and, instead, choose to walk on foot.

To watch Lia.

She’s marching in front of me, oblivious to her surroundings and me. She keeps sipping from a drink that she shoplifted when Yan wasn’t around. Lia was never an alcoholic and she’s not one now either. She just believes she’s Winter—and because Winter was an alcoholic, Lia thinks she is as well.

I make sure Yan dilutes her beer when she’s not looking. I won’t allow her to develop an addiction that she’ll regret.

My wife is wearing a coat and shoes that are a few sizes too big. Yan mentioned that she always complains about the cold and the winter weather. I wish I could take her home, wash her, and tuck her in a warm bed.

After what happened with the shelter’s fucking director, I’m paranoid that the incident will repeat. That she’s no longer safe, even if my guards and I are almost always watching her.

What if I lose track of her and can’t get to her in time?

She stops in front of a New York City Ballet poster, her brow furrowing as she studies it. My feet come to a halt a small distance away, but as usual, she doesn’t notice me.

Will she ever?

Lia remains there for several long seconds, her body slightly trembling before she crunches her can and throws it in the trash.

Well. That’s interesting.

At least she remembers her connection to ballet.

Winter was never a ballerina. However, Lia somehow has it in her mind that she was and even told Yan that she was pushed out by an evil prima ballerina who asked her to seduce her husband.

Per my knowledge, Winter was never married, nor has she had a long-term relationship.

Dr. Taylor mentioned that Lia invented her version of Winter and she could have used references from her own life to fill in the gaps.

I wonder if Lia asked Winter to seduce me. After all, she did want a stranger to take her place in my life.

As if that would ever be fucking possible.

After throwing away the can, Lia starts to cross the street without lifting her head. A van speeds down the street and she’s completely oblivious to it.

I don’t think as I grab her by the elbow and pull her back. For a second, I bask in the feel of touching her, even though layers of clothing are separating us.

Even though she doesn’t smell of roses right now.

I haven’t gotten this close since the hospital. And she didn’t even remember me at the time. She had memory lapses later and didn’t recall the first encounters with me. Dr. Taylor, who visited again, said it was normal for someone in Lia’s state to erase everything from their previous lives. Apparently, only her new identity matters and my attempts to talk to her only caused her to escape deeper in her mind.

To a place where I couldn’t reach.

Lia startles but then flips off the driver when he calls her names. I make sure to memorize his license plate so I can cut out his tongue later.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

I probably shouldn’t be talking to her, in case she has a panic attack like in the hospital, but I couldn’t resist.

I miss her.

I miss my Lia, and the fact that she doesn’t remember me has been eating at my soul like the crashing waves that swallowed her that night.

Lia finally looks at me and she pauses, her aqua eyes widening and her breath audibly hitching.

She observes me intently as if she knows me. Maybe not on the surface, but deep in her heart.

Hope blossoms in my chest because I know, I just know that I can have my wife back.

Lia

Four weeks later

I think I’m crazy.

Either that or everything I just learned is true and I’ve lost nearly two months of my life.

Two months of believing I was Winter.

Two months of escaping my true identity.

Two months of…lies.

Flashback upon flashback slice through my battered head with the wrecking force of a thunderstorm.

My life plays in front of me like a distorted movie, one where the audience doesn’t know the ending until it strikes them in the face.

My name is Lia Volkov.

It’s not Winter. I’m not homeless.

I have a husband, and Jeremy is indeed my son.

Winter has always been a figment of my imagination. No, not my imagination. She’s a real person whose identity I used so I could escape my own.

Why…? Just why…would I do that?

I sag against the wall in the dim, narrow alleyway and stare up at Luca through my blurry vision. When I planned to escape with Jeremy and texted my childhood friend for help, I didn’t think he’d plot an entire masquerade. I never would’ve anticipated it was he who sent the circus clown to where I was waiting in the park in order to distract the guards and Jeremy so that he could pull me into this alley.

This is the same Luca who wanted me to not only spy on Adrian, but to also kill him—because I killed the mercenary he hired for the job.

Bile rises to my throat and I slap a hand on my mouth as the realization coils inside me, twisting and tugging on my heartstrings.

I killed someone.

To protect Adrian, I didn’t think twice about ending a person’s life. That’s why I went mad. That’s why somewhere in my mind, being Winter made more sense for my sanity.

She might have been homeless, but she was free and definitely not a murderer.

Luca snaps two fingers in front of my face, his impatience etched in his hard features. The leather jacket, black baseball cap, and mask give him the anonymity he religiously tries to achieve. I don’t remember him ever showing up in public with his face entirely visible. The stench of bleach coming from him fills my nostrils. He always has that distinctive smell, because he’s obsessed with cleaning. Before, I thought he had an OCD, but maybe it’s more to do with cleaning bodies and killing.

Somewhere in the gloomy corners of my mind, I recognized the smell when I was Winter. I was close to identifying him but couldn’t.

“I don’t have all day, Duchess.”

Hot red emotions bubble in my veins as I let my hand fall limp at my side. “What have you done to me?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I opened your eyes to the truth. I told you that Adrian has been using you all along because you’re Lazlo Luciano’s daughter.”

I jam a stiff finger in his chest. “The only one who’s been using me all this time is you, Luca. I considered you a friend, but you’ve been manipulating me all along. You’ve endangered my, my son’s, and my husband’s lives just because it serves your agenda.”