Chapter 1 One
Idalia, 24
“Mrs. Devereux, are you sure you won’t eat something? Even a little toast?”
Martha’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see the kindly woman in her fifties, her brow furrowed in worry as she folded one of Thane’s silk shirts into the overnight bag.
Martha was the only person in the Devereux estate who treated me like a human being, not an inconvenience.
“I can’t, Martha,” I said, a small, nervous smile touching my lips. My hands trembled as I packed the last of the shaving kit Thane liked, the sandalwood scent he found soothing when his migraines hit.
“My stomach is in knots. Today is the day. In a few hours, the bandages come off. I want to be there the second the light hits his eyes. I want to be the first thing he sees.”
Martha chuckled, shaking her head as she tucked the shirt in.
“You’ve been a bundle of nerves for two months, ever since the surgery was scheduled. But look at you, child. You’ve barely eaten properly. You’ve spent every ounce of your energy fussing over Mr. Devereux, making sure he’s comfortable, reading to him, singing to him… and look at you now.”
She gestured to the full-length mirror near the closet.
“He’s going to be disappointed if he opens his eyes and sees a wife who starved herself into a ghost just to care for him.”
I followed her gaze to the mirror. She was right. The reflection staring back at me was gaunt. My collarbones were too prominent, my skin pale, and dark circles bruised the skin under my eyes. I looked fragile, like a stiff breeze could knock me over.
But then my eyes drifted lower, and my hand instinctively moved to cover my stomach, a smile covered my face, swallowing my worries.
“Have you told him yet?” Martha asked softly, her tone shifting to a gentle whisper.
I shook my head, my fingers splaying over the secret life growing inside me. “No. I didn’t want to burden him while he was recovering. I wanted him to focus on healing.”
I turned back to her, my eyes welling up with happy tears. “But I’m going to tell him today. The moment he sees me. It’s going to be the first good news he hears with his new sight.”
“Oh, my dear,” Martha sighed, her eyes crinkling. “I'm so happy. You both can finally live the life you have always dreamed. You've been through a lot and you needed this good news.”
I nodded at her words and wiped my face with the back of my hand, sniffing my cries back. I hadn't been given the opportunity to be happy since I was born. Discarded by my birth parents to leaving the warmth of the orphanage into the hands of absolute hardship, then to being thrown to Thane as a substitute.
I had anticipated everything, but certainly not finding joy in the helpless blind man I married by force.
“Please, Martha,” I said, grabbing my purse. “Wrap up some sandwiches for us? Thane will be hungry, and I promise I’ll eat with him. Just finish the packing and send the rest with the driver later. I can’t wait anymore.”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I rushed into the bathroom, scrubbing my skin until it was pink, desperate to look my best for the husband who had never seen my face.
An hour later, I was in the back of a taxi, watching the city blur past.
I hadn’t ordered the family driver, I knew better. My mother-in-law, Mrs. Kim Devereux, and my own adoptive mother, Mrs. Elena Vance, made sure I never got too comfortable with the luxuries of being a billionaire’s wife. To them, I was just a placeholder.
Two years.
I had been married to Thane Veron Devereux for two years. Two years of hell from his family, but two years of heaven in the quiet moments with him.
My mind drifted back to the day my mother, the woman who had adopted me at four only to treat me like an indentured servant, forced me into this marriage. Thane was supposed to marry Camilla, my younger sister. They were the golden couple. But when the accident happened, when the great Thane Devereux was left blind and partially crippled, Camilla’s love evaporated.
She refused to be a nursemaid. She refused to be tied to a "useless cripple."
So they made a plan. They told the public that Camilla was sick, undergoing treatment abroad. In reality, they threw me to the wolves. They threatened to bulldoze the orphanage I grew up in if I didn’t take her place. I had to marry the monster in the dark.
But he wasn’t a monster, he was just broken. And I love him.
I loved him through his rage, through his depression, through the nights he screamed in pain. And slowly, he started to love me back. He didn’t know my face, but he knew my touch. He recognized my voice.
We only started being intimate a year and four months into our marriage. That's how long I had waited, and I'm the happiest knowing that I had my husband and our little life against the world.
The taxi screeched to a halt in front of the private hospital wing. I checked my watch. I still had two hours before the procedure. I was early, but I didn't care.
I paid the driver and hurried inside, ignoring the heavy travel bag weighing down my shoulder. I took the elevator up to the top floor, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
“He’s going to see me.” I breathed, a giddy smile spreading across my face. He’s finally going to know who I am. My husband is going to see what I look like.
I reached the door to his private suite. Usually, there were guards, but the hallway was empty. I pushed the door open quietly, wanting to surprise him.
The room was bathed in blinding sunlight. The heavy velvet curtains had been pulled wide open, something Thane explicitly forbade. He hated the sun; he hated feeling the warmth he couldn't see, a cruel reminder of his darkness.
Confusion knit my brow. Had a nurse made a mistake?
I stepped fully into the VIP suite, the words of greeting dying on my tongue. My feet rooted to the floor. There, standing by the window, was a man.
My breath hitched in my throat.
Thane?
My mind raced, trying to process the image before me. He stood tall, his posture strong and commanding, bathed in the very light he used to despise. And the bandages... my God, they were gone.
Panic flared hot and fast in my chest. I missed it?
The nurse had explicitly said noon. It was only ten. Had I really missed the most important moment of our lives?
The strap of the overnight bag slipped from my numb fingers.
“Thane?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
Before he could turn toward me, the bathroom door creaked open.
“Darling, are you done admiring the view?”
The voice was light, musical, and terrifyingly familiar.
Thane turned away from the window. His eyes—piercing, icy blue and sharp as glass—focused intently on the bathroom door.
He smiled. A genuine, warm smile I hadn’t seen since the day we married.
“I’m just waiting for you, love,” he said.
My blood ran cold. I followed his gaze as a figure stepped out. It wasn't a nurse. It wasn't a stranger.
Camilla?