His Promise Her Prison

The day I was released from prison, my fiancé, Don Ford, was waiting for me, promising our life would finally begin.

Seven years ago, he and my parents begged me to take the fall for a crime my adopted sister, Kelsey, committed. She got behind the wheel drunk, hit someone, and fled the scene.

They said Kelsey was too fragile for prison. They called my seven-year sentence a small sacrifice.

But as soon as we arrived at the family mansion, Don’s phone rang. Kelsey was having another one of her “episodes,” and he left me standing alone in the grand foyer to rush to her side.

The butler then informed me I was to stay in the dusty storage room on the third floor. My parents’ orders. They didn't want me upsetting Kelsey when she returned.

It was always Kelsey. She was the reason they took my college scholarship fund, and she was the reason I lost seven years of my life. I was their biological daughter, but I was just a tool to be used and discarded.

That night, alone in that cramped room, a cheap phone a prison guard gave me buzzed with an email. It was a job offer for a classified position I had applied for eight years ago. It came with a new identity and an immediate relocation package. A way out.

I typed my reply with shaking fingers.

"I accept."

Chapter 1

I remember the day I went to prison. It wasn't because of a judge or a jury. It was my own family.

Seven years ago, my adopted sister Kelsey Stephenson got behind the wheel, drunk. She hit someone and fled the scene. The person survived, but the crime was serious.

My parents, the Salinas family, sat me down. My biological sister, Joline, was there too.

"Kelsey isn't well," my mother said, her voice cold. "She can't go to jail. It would break her."

"Can you go for her?" my father asked, not looking at me. "It's just a few years."

I refused. I couldn't believe what they were asking. But one night, they bundled me into a car. It wasn't their car. It was a police car.

My fiancé, Don Ford, was there. He was a big deal in New York, a financial magnate who could make things happen. He arranged everything. He held my face in his hands, his own eyes filled with a pain I didn't understand.

"Annamarie, when you get out, I'll marry you," he promised. "Just bear with it for these seven years. It's the only way to protect you from a worse fate."

I didn't understand what worse fate he meant. I only understood the betrayal.

Now, seven years have passed. The heavy iron gate slid open, and I walked out into a world that felt too bright, too loud.

A sleek black car was waiting. Don Ford stepped out. He looked the same, impossibly handsome in his tailored suit, not a single hair out of place.

He opened his arms to hug me. I stepped back.

He looked hurt, his arms falling to his sides. "Annamarie."

I looked down at myself. My clothes were cheap, provided by the prison. My hair was dull, my skin pale. I was thin, all sharp angles and shadows. Seven years of prison food and hard labor had carved me into someone I didn't recognize. He, on the other hand, looked like he'd just stepped out of a magazine. The contrast was a physical blow.