SPECIAL CHAPTER
MIRA
Two years to the day since we stood in the restoration bay and said the version of the vow that actually meant something, and I woke up alone with cold sheets on his side of the bed and a note propped against his pillow instead of a husband, and for one entire panicked minute I lay there convinced that Damian Morozov, a man who tracked every debt he'd ever owed down to the hour, had somehow forgotten our anniversary.