Jason had pursued me relentlessly, the way only a man used to getting what he wanted could. When the Moretti Empire sent me to Paris for business, Jason booked a last-minute flight just to be with me.
“I couldn’t live without you for a whole week,” he had said, standing in the hotel lobby with a bouquet of tulips.
I had called him crazy. He had just kissed me and said, “Crazy in love.”
That was Jason.
Affectionate. Possessive. Mine.
Then we got married.
On our honeymoon, he whisked me away to Sydney, where we spent a month indulging in luxury, walking along the harbor, and making love under city lights. He had promised me forever. When Noah was born, he became even more protective, refusing to let me lift a finger. Every night, he held me close and whispered, “I love you more than anything in this world.”
I had believed him.
Then Lily came back.
She had been studying fashion design abroad for years, and when she returned, she was more beautiful than ever—elegant, stylish, the kind of woman people admired. Jason noticed.