Chapter 1 - The Awakening in Black Silk
Lia Evans woke up in a stranger’s bed with a wedding ring on her finger, no phone, no shoes, and no memory of signing her own life away. The ceiling above her was carved with gold-trimmed molding so expensive it looked illegal, and the sheets beneath her were black silk, smelling faintly of leather, roses, and danger. After a moment of paralyzed panic, she discovered her jeans were still on, which stopped her from screaming. The last thing she remembered was her aunt Carol calling her on her twenty-first birthday, suddenly sweet, inviting her to dinner under the guise of familial goodwill. Lia had wanted to believe her—that was her first mistake. Swinging her legs off the bed, cold marble shocked her bare feet. On the nightstand sat a glass of water and two white pills, which she backed away from instantly. The door opened to reveal a woman in a black suit with gray-streaked hair pulled into a tight bun and the calm expression of someone who had watched terrible things happen. “Mrs. Romano,” the woman said. “You’re awake.” Refusing the title, Lia demanded to know where she was, only to be told she had nine minutes to change into a black, sleeveless dress laid out in a dressing room bigger than her entire bedroom back in Queens. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a cornered girl who knew that cornered things either died or learned to bite. Walking down the grand staircase, she entered a dining room filled with elite guests who fell silent at her arrival. At the far end stood Dante Romano—mid-thirties, dark hair, darker eyes, exuding a calm, dangerous intensity. He handed her a marriage certificate bearing her name, his name, and a signature that looked exactly like hers. When Lia realized her aunt Carol had drugged her and sold her to clear massive gambling debts, Dante showed zero remorse, coldly declaring, “You are my wife now. You live in my house. You attend events at my side. You smile when I tell you to smile.” Staring at the ruthless mafia boss, Lia's blood turned to ice as she asked the ultimate question: “Am I supposed to thank you?”
