My Perfect Marriage, His Deadly Secret

From the back cover

For three months, I was the perfect wife to tech billionaire Axel Delacruz. I thought our marriage was a fairy tale, and the welcome dinner for my new internship at his company was supposed to be a celebration of our perfect life.

That illusion shattered when his beautiful, unhinged ex, Diana, crashed the party and stabbed him in the arm with a steak knife.

But the real horror wasn't the blood. It was the look in my husband's eyes. He cradled his attacker, whispering a single, tender word meant only for her:

"Always."

He stood by as she held a knife to my face to carve off a beauty mark she claimed I'd copied from her. He watched as she threw me into a kennel with starving dogs, knowing it was my deepest fear. He let her have me beaten, let her shove gravel down my throat to ruin my voice, and let her men break my hand in a door.

When I called him one last time, begging for help as a group of men closed in, he hung up on me.

Trapped and left for dead, I threw myself out of a second-story window. As I ran, bleeding and broken, I made a call I hadn't made in years.

"Uncle Francisco," I sobbed into the phone. "I want a divorce. And I want you to help me destroy him."

They thought they married a nobody. They had no idea they'd just declared war on the Wallace family.