Amara’s POV
The city of Oakhaven was a cathedral of gray stone and persistent drizzle, a place where the sun seemed to be an occasional visitor rather than a resident. For most, the gloom was a reason to complain over lukewarm coffee, but for me, it was a sanctuary. In the shadows cast by the towering, soot-stained industrial buildings, a woman with a dangerous secret could finally breathe.
I lived in a studio apartment above a bakery called The Flour Bin. Every morning at four, the scent of yeast and cinnamon would rise through the floorboards, a warm, domestic smell that tethered me to a reality that didn't involve mahogany boardrooms or silk-lined traps. Here, I wasn't the "Contract Bride" whose face had been plastered across every tabloid from New York to London. I wasn't the woman w
