Chapter 1: She's Absolutely Crazy
Emma's POV
I'm standing in front of the vanity mirror, sliding on the designer sunglasses with practiced ease. The silk scarf wraps around my neck, covering the lower half of my face in that casual way I've perfected over two years. The wide-brimmed hat drops just the right shadow across my forehead.
In the reflection, I see exactly what I want everyone else to see. An elegant socialite. A wealthy man's wife. Someone completely unremarkable in Manhattan's elite circles.
Two years. Two whole years of this life. Shopping at overpriced boutiques, attending charity auctions, sipping tea at exclusive clubs. All those things I could only read about in magazines in my previous life are now my perfect disguise.
"Emma, you ready to go?" Marcus walks into the room, his voice carrying that warm tone that still catches me off guard sometimes. "Isabella's really excited to meet you tonight."
I turn toward him, letting a soft smile play across my lips. "Of course, darling. I'm looking forward to meeting your childhood friend."
He steps closer, his fingers gently adjusting my scarf. I let him fuss over me, watching the concentration on his face. This man. This impossibly good, naive man will never know who I really am.
And that's probably for the best.
"Isabella can be pretty direct sometimes," he says, his brow creasing with concern. "If she says something that offends you..."
"Marcus, I can handle myself." I pause, allowing my eyes to narrow just slightly behind the sunglasses.
"After all, I've met all kinds of people."
The Sterling mansion is ablaze with crystal chandeliers and the soft murmur of high society conversation. I'm walking beside Marcus, my arm linked through his, feeling the weight of curious glances. It's a feeling I'm used to now. The mysterious Mrs. Sterling, always elegantly covered, always keeping her distance.
Then I see her approaching. Isabella Whitmore in all her golden-haired glory, looking like she stepped off a magazine cover. Her smile is perfect, practiced, and completely ignores my existence.
"Marcus!" She's opening her arms wide, moving toward him like I'm not even standing here.
Marcus immediately steps back, and I catch the flash of discomfort in his eyes. "Isabella, this is my wife Emma. Emma, this is Isabella, my childhood friend."
Isabella's arms drop, and her attention finally shifts to me. Her gaze travels up and down my figure, lingering on the sunglasses and scarf. "Ah, the mysterious Mrs. Emma Sterling. Always with the sunglasses and scarves. Such a... unique look."
"Thanks for noticing," I reply smoothly. "I prefer keeping some things private."
Marcus, bless his oblivious heart, completely misses the undercurrent between us. He's already guiding me away from Isabella, leaning down to whisper in my ear.
"She's absolutely crazy," he murmurs, his breath tickling my ear. "Please don't spend too much time with her. I don't want you catching whatever weird shit she's got going on."
I can't help but laugh at his serious expression and childish concern. "Marcus, is it really okay to talk about your childhood friend like that?"
"Just being honest," he says with a shrug.
"Emma, why don't you grab something to eat over here?" Marcus gestures toward a quieter area near the refreshment table. "I need to talk business with a few partners. I'll be right back."
"Go ahead," I tell him. "I can take care of myself."
I'm watching Isabella from the corner of my eye as Marcus walks away. She's immediately trailing after him, trying to insert herself into his conversation with potential business partners. Marcus responds with polite but distant courtesy before leading his associates to the far corner of the room.
I'm smiling to myself as I watch this little dance. This is exactly why I chose Marcus for our contract marriage. He's wonderfully naive but genuinely kind. His head is always buried in work, completely oblivious to female manipulation, but when it matters, he instinctively protects the people around him.
Men like that are rare. And honestly, pretty adorable.
I make my way to the buffet table, grateful for a moment alone. After checking that no one's paying particular attention to me, I slip off the scarf and sunglasses to eat more comfortably. The fruit juice is surprisingly good. Not too sweet.
After a while, I notice the commotion near the main entrance. Several men I don't recognize are trying to enter the ballroom. Their clothes are appropriate for the venue, but there's something about their bearing that screams they don't belong among the social elite. Sterling family security is interceding, keeping them from entering.
I don't know who these men are, but my instincts are prickling.
The security team successfully escorts the strangers out, but I'm already putting my sunglasses and scarf back on, continuing to observe. The family bodyguards are now patrolling the ballroom with expressions far more serious than before.
A few minutes later, I'm watching two bodyguards walk purposefully toward Isabella. Their stride is determined. They clearly have a target in mind. The other guests continue their conversations, completely unaware of what's happening.
"Miss, we're gonna need you to cooperate with us," one bodyguard says as he approaches Isabella.
"Cooperate with what?" Isabella looks genuinely confused. "Who the hell are you people?"
"Hand over your phone."
"Why? I haven't done anything wrong!"
The second bodyguard moves to flank her, their movements professional but discreet. They control Isabella efficiently, preventing any chance of her calling for help or running. Her phone disappears into their possession within seconds.
Another bodyguard is walking quickly toward Marcus, whispering something urgent in his ear. Marcus's expression immediately becomes grave.
He's scanning the crowd, looking for me. When our eyes meet, he makes a subtle gesture toward the study and I can see him mouthing the words, "Dad wants to see us."
I know in that moment that my carefully constructed peaceful life of the past two years is about to end completely.
In the Sterling family study, the atmosphere is thick with tension. Mr. Sterling is sitting behind his desk, his face grim. Several bodyguards stand nearby, one holding Isabella's confiscated phone. Marcus looks completely bewildered.
"The photos have been circulating online for twenty minutes," Mr. Sterling announces without preamble. "Our tech team is doing everything they can to remove them, but..."
"But it's too late." My voice is surprisingly calm, even to my own ears. "Someone recognized me, didn't they?"
"Recognized you?" Marcus is looking between his father and me with growing confusion. "What the fuck are you two talking about?"
Mr. Sterling fixes his son with a steady gaze. "Marcus, do you remember why we suddenly needed a contract wife two years ago?"
"You said it was for a business alliance." Marcus glances at me, his confusion deepening. "What's going on?"
"Marcus, I'm sorry." I can feel the weight of what I'm about to say. "Our marriage... it was a transaction."
"What kind of transaction?"
"Protection," Mr. Sterling explains. "Your safety in exchange for us providing her with identity cover."
"Identity cover?" Marcus's voice is barely a whisper. "Emma, who are you really?"
"Someone who should have died a long time ago." I let out a soft sigh.
Suddenly, every electronic device in the room starts buzzing simultaneously. The ballroom's main screen lights up as well.
The face that appears on screen makes my blood freeze. Young, sharp-featured, with cold eyes and a distinctly Russian accent coloring his English.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Viktor's voice fills the room. "Tonight I have some good news to share."
"The legendary assassin Swans..." Viktor's smile is pure malice. "So you're still alive. Hiding in New York, playing housewife, living the comfortable life?"
He leans closer to the camera, his expression becoming even more sinister. "As a member of the High Table, I now formally announce a bounty on Swans. The reward... one hundred million dollars."
From the ballroom, I can hear gasps and the sound of panic beginning to spread. Mr. Sterling closes his eyes and sighs deeply. Marcus is staring at the screen in shock before turning to look at me.
His expression is cycling through emotions. Confusion to shock to disbelief to some kind of complex understanding.
"Swans..." Marcus's voice is barely audible. "The legendary assassin from the underground world?"
Viktor's final words echo through the speakers: "Swans, it's time to settle the account we left unfinished two years ago."
The screen goes black, but everyone in the room knows the storm has begun.
