She Faked Her Death And Returned As A Legend

A message. Attached were six photos.

Tangled underwear. Tightly interlaced fingers. Bedsheets twisted into knots. Blurred silhouettes in a steamed-up bathroom mirror...

This wasn't the first time Genevieve Clarke had received a taunt like this.

The hand gripping the other woman's wrist, so tight it looked like it wanted to dig into her flesh—she recognized it instantly. It belonged to Julian Sterling, her husband of four years.

She glanced at the timestamp on the photos. Their wedding anniversary.

Julian had told her they would celebrate together that evening, yet he'd been gone for three days straight. His assistant had sent a message. A last-minute business trip, it said.

Urgent. Urgent indeed. Desperate, more like it.

She let out a bitter, humorless laugh and closed the message thread. Scrolling through her contacts, she dialed a number.

The call was answered immediately.

"Genevieve..."

"Fiona, I've found a volunteer for the sequestered research program."

"Who?"

"Me."

Dead silence on the other end. Then, Fiona's voice sharpened. "Don't be ridiculous. You know the rules. Once you enter the program, you're locked in until it's over. No leaving, no outside contact. If you join the research team, your identity is erased. Every record, gone. You'd be re-registered under a new name and legally declared a missing person. Are you really ready to throw away your life here? To throw away Julian?"

Genevieve looked at the wedding photo on the wall.

Happiness radiated from both their eyes, almost spilling from the frame.

His vows echoed in her mind. All those sweet memories, once so precious, now felt like a cruel joke.

"I've made up my mind. I'll be there tomorrow to sign the papers."

She hung up before Fiona could argue.

Downstairs, the sound of tires on gravel. Moments later, Julian's tall, athletic figure strode through the door. His well-defined hands yanked off his black tie as he headed straight for the bathroom.

His jacket, tossed carelessly onto the coat rack, carried the scent of VRA's latest fragrance—Inferno.

It stood for heat. Passion.

Everything she wasn't. So bland. So uninteresting.

Julian took a quick shower and emerged wrapped in a grey bathrobe.

The belt hung loose, revealing sculpted pecs and a taut abdomen. Damp hair fell across his forehead, the moisture making his dark eyes seem even deeper and colder than usual.

Eldest son of the Sterling family. A prince of finance. Julian's appeal—in both looks and wealth—was undeniable.

But as much as he'd once made her heart flutter, the sight of him now just made her sick.

"What are you staring at? Can't get enough?"

Julian draped an arm lazily around her waist, his voice a sexy rasp. "Miss me?"

As he spoke, his hand slid down the curve of her hip. Her skin crawled at his touch.

Genevieve sidestepped, evading his hand.

Julian's arm froze in midair. A faint frown creased his brow.

"What's wrong? Are you mad at me?"

Genevieve steadied herself. She wouldn't stoop to a confrontation. That was beneath her.

Swallowing the ache in her chest, she bent down and retrieved a small lockbox from the nightstand drawer. She held it out to him.

"A gift for you."

Inside were the signed divorce papers. Her final gift.

"You can only open it if you guess the code."

Julian barely glanced at it. To him, it was just another one of her silly little games—the kind of thing she used to do to get his attention. Utterly uninterested, he took the box and tossed it onto the table. Then he reached out, pulled her into his arms, and rested his chin in the crook of her neck, nuzzling her gently.

"You're the best gift I could ask for."

Genevieve flinched. Julian paused, then let out a low chuckle.

"Work got crazy, and I missed our anniversary. You're upset, aren't you?"

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then released her and walked to the coat rack. From his jacket, he retrieved a square box, flipped it open, and held it out to her.

"Do you like it?"

Inside lay a vintage gold hairpin—an elaborate piece, intricately filigreed and set with a deep green emerald.

"I bid on this specifically for you. You love things like this, don't you? Try it on."

His tone was commanding, yet laced with a doting affection.

Once, a gesture like this would have made Genevieve melt.

Everyone in Silveridge knew Julian was a devoted husband.

Genevieve had believed it, too.

If it weren't for the photo on her phone, she would have been overjoyed.

A mixed-race girl in her early twenties, head tilted back, eyes half-lidded in seductive abandon. Her long, wavy hair was loosely pinned with that same emerald gold hairpin, exposing a delicate neck covered in kiss marks.

"It's one of a kind. You don't like it?"

He reached out and gently lifted a strand of her hair.

The slight roughness of his callused fingers brushed against her skin—a gesture heavy with sensual suggestion.

Genevieve was at her limit. She wanted to grab that hairpin and drive it straight into his heart.

When she lifted her eyes, they were cold, all her usual gentleness gone.

"Is it really one of a kind?"

An uneasy feeling coiled in Julian's gut. Something felt off, but just as his expression darkened, Genevieve's lips curved into a soft smile.

"If it's truly one of a kind, then I adore it."

She reached out and closed the box.

"I still have some work to finish tonight. You go on to bed. Don't wait up for me."

She slipped out of his embrace, clutching the box, and walked away without a backward glance.

A chill crept in through his loosened robe, and an inexplicable emptiness settled in Julian's chest.

Genevieve was definitely acting strange tonight.

Then his gaze landed on the lockbox on the table, and he relaxed.

No one in the world knew better than him how deeply Genevieve loved him. No matter what he did, she would never leave him.

Never.

His phone buzzed insistently in the pocket of his robe.

He fished it out and glanced at the screen. The explicit, suggestive messages made his throat go dry with heat.

He sat on the bed, typed a quick reply, then deleted the exchange. Tossing the phone aside, he collapsed onto the mattress.

The familiar, faint scent of his wife filled his senses, soothing his nerves and pulling him quickly toward sleep.

In the study, Genevieve photographed the hairpin and sent the image to a luxury consignment shop.

"Sell this for me as soon as possible."

She sent an account number.

"Wire the money here."

It was the general fund for the Veridian Institute.

For something so filthy, at least the money could be put to good use..

..

The next morning, when Julian woke, Genevieve was already dressed.

He propped himself up on his elbows and gestured to her.

His voice was deep and rough with sleep, laced with a gentle seduction.

"Come here. Give me a hug."

Genevieve's fingers, in the middle of buttoning her shirt, froze for a second. She took a deep breath and looked up, her eyes clear and calm.

"I have an urgent matter at the Veridian Institute, so I have to go. There's no time for breakfast—you'll have to manage on your own."

With that, she grabbed her clutch and turned away, just as she had the night before, without looking back.

Julian's hand hung in midair. A hollow feeling surged through him, and he rubbed his brow, irritated.

Before, no matter how busy she was, Genevieve would always have breakfast ready. She'd wake him when it was perfectly warm, acting like a spoiled kitten as she begged for a hug and a goodbye kiss.

What the hell was wrong with her today?

"Genevieve."

His voice sounded from behind her just as she opened the door. It cut through her, so sharp it stole her breath. The pain was so sudden, so intense, she could barely draw air.

She turned, her expression perfectly composed.

"Yes?"

He studied her for a few seconds, but seeing nothing amiss, he decided he was just being paranoid.

"Even if you're busy, make sure you eat. And don't stay up too late. The Beacon Project has hit some complications, so I'll be swamped for the next few days. You don't have to wait up for me."

"Okay."

Genevieve gave him a small smile.

Bathed in the morning light, her eyes bright, she looked just like the girl who had captivated him at first sight.

A tremor went through him, and his tone gentled even more.

"Once things settle down, I'll take you to Serenity Isle for a few days. We'll make up for the honeymoon we never had."

It felt like salt being ground into the gaping wound in her heart, raw and bleeding.

When they were planning their wedding, Genevieve had mapped out countless travel routes. She'd made him promise that on every anniversary, they'd pick a new destination for a honeymoon trip, so their love would never fade.

But just days ago, Julian had taken another woman to Serenity Isle. The photos of them tangled in bed were still on her phone.

She lowered her eyes and replied softly, "Sure. Once things settle down."

With that, she turned and walked out the door.

Not a trace of warmth remained in her eyes.

This time, Julian would be the one waiting.