His name is Vasily Baranov. He is a king among crime lords. And he says Im his wife.
But I don’t remember him or the life he claims we shared. Nothing of me exists in this world hes dragged me into, no proof that I lived with him as his wife, no proof that I existed at all. I have no idea who I am, and he gives me no answers.
Without any memories, without any identification, without a single thing of my own, I dont have any choice but to believe him, but theres something deeper inside me that draws me to him. I trust him when hes done nothing to show he deserves my trust. I crave him when I dont even know if we were truly married.
And then—a memory.
The truth might be more dangerous than the past I’ve forgotten.
Is Vasily my savior, or is he the one who stole everything from me?
And where is the son my shattered memory thinks we have?
