Cover

PART I

A cold winter day at the beginning of summer

1

DAWN

A ring. I was looking at a wedding ring. My ex-boyfriend wanted to marry me. Not for love. But for revenge.

Revenge. That word echoed inside of me, louder and louder with every passing second. Meanwhile, Victor stared at me over the box he’d opened after informing me that ten years of ownership would be the price for my betrayal.

He looked so different from the boy I remembered. The messy hair he’d let get so floppy while we were dating was all business now. His inky locks might have still been long on top, but they’d been ruthlessly gelled back and molded into place. Underneath his thick brows, his eyes had somehow gotten even darker. The kind of dense black that put me in mind of the mysterious holes in outer space that depending on who you asked, could either crush you in an instant or send your spaceship hurtling to another time or dimension.

His face was still a beautiful sculpture that even a lapsed artist like me would want to capture on paper. But the planes of it had sharpened over the years. They were now razors that cast shadows.

I’d only compared him to a raven in my mind before. That “like” stuff was done. He was the human embodiment of that infamous and scary bird. And I was sitting right across from him.

This was Victor.

Victor. The boy I fell in love with when we were both high school students in Japan.

Victor. The mafia prince I had watched kill a man in cold blood. Without blinking an eye. Less than an hour before he proposed to me.

Victor. The ex who was now proposing again.

No, not proposing.

Despite Mount Holyoke’s best efforts with required writing classes, I still had to majorly edit myself. At least when it came to Victor.

Commanding. He was commanding ten years from me.

Of marriage.

I was breathing. I must have been breathing, or else I would’ve passed out. That’s basic biology. But for an eternity of minutes, there was no air to be had. I couldn’t inhale. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t even think.

May 25th. That had been the date we’d agreed to get married on four years ago. One of the many promises we had made to each other. Before it all fell apart.

And now, here I was on that very same date. Sitting in front of some town hall in Rhode Island, the monster’s expectations hanging heavy in the air.

All I could do was stare at that ring. He wants to marry me.

Not out of love, I reminded myself as my lungs gasped for air. But out of revenge. Again, that word echoed inside my mind.

“No,” I finally managed to choke out. “I won’t marry you. That’s crazy!”