A SYMOHONY OF SECRETS

For seven hundred and thirty days, Rivera Royce lived in a sun-drenched villa in Tuscany with a man she believed was her husband.

She knew his coffee order, black, two sugars. She knew the rhythm of his footsteps in the hallway. She knew the scent of his cologne, a mix of sandalwood and sea salt that clung to the sheets.

But she didn't know his name.

Her real husband, the real Reagan Royce was in prison. The handsome man she shared a home with was none other than Reagan's best friend, Luke Ivan.

The Tuscan sun that morning when Luke told her the truth was a cruel witness to the shattering of Rivera's life.

It was a Tuesday morning at the Villa d'Oro, the kind of morning that usually felt like a shimmering dream.

The scent of blooming lemon trees wafted through the open windows, and the distant, sapphire shimmer of the Mediterranean promised a day of quiet luxury.

She looked like a woman who had everything. In reality, she felt like a woman waiting for her life to finally begin.

Behind her, the man she had called her husband for seven hundred and thirty days stood by the balcony. He was a statue of a man; beautiful, cold, and meticulously distant.

"The two years are up," he repeated calmly, far too calmly. "The real Reagan Royce was released from prison three hours ago."

The world didn't stop, but Rivera's heart seemed to.

"What... what kind of joke is this?" she whispered, her laughter sounded like breaking glass. It was a laughter of disbelief. "You're Reagan. We've been married for two years. We moved here together after the wedding."

"You exchanged vows over a phone line, Rivera. You signed a marriage certificate that he already signed, and the groom was absent at the ceremony. You're married indeed, but not to me." He stepped toward her, but he didn't reach out. "I am your husband's lawyer and his best friend."

Rivera sank to the edge of the bed. Every memory of her "marriage" flashed before her eyes like a sickening montage. The way he always slept in the guest wing, claiming "late-night calls with the States." The way he never kissed her, only offering a respectful nod or a brief touch on the shoulder.

She had spent two years blaming herself, thinking she wasn't sophisticated enough, pretty enough, desirable enough for him. She had been trying to win the heart of a man who had been pretending to be her husband.

"Is it really all fake?" She looked up at him, her vision blurring with hot, stinging tears. "I've been living with my husband's best friend?" She repeated his words to affirm the reality of her situation. He nodded.

"He was released today. He'll leave first. We'll return to New York tomorrow morning. He has instructed that I bring you to him. I have already bought the tickets. I'll pick you up at six."

"I'm not going anywhere," she snapped, the shock finally giving way to a white-hot spark of rage. "I want a divorce. I want to see my father."

A good amount of rage was directed at her father because he was the one who deceived her and gave her to complete strangers who had just played with her intelligence and emotions for two years.

Rivera Royce was born Rivera Banks to Robert and Sue Banks, a once-wealthy family living in the hills of California.

During her teenage years, her father's company collapsed. Bankruptcy followed, along with crushing debt. Creditors harassed them endlessly that they lived in constant fear for their lives.

Eventually, they fled to the countryside in Arizona. Around the same time, her mother left and remarried. Years later, a perfect opportunity to pay off their debts came.

An old powerful friend of her father, Stanton Royce promised to pay off their debts if Rivera married his son, Reagan Royce. It was a deal that sounded like a miracle.

Rivera wasn't sure how this benefited the Royce family. She had heard rumors about Reagan. He's a powerful and popular billionaire, he is currently the most eligible bachelor in the world.

Rivera was hesitant about marrying a man she had never met, but her father convinced her that it was the only way that they could survive.

Stanton also promised to let her divorce him after two years if she wasn't happy. Everything felt strange to Rivera, but she was happy that she had at least saved her father.

She joined her husband in Italy shortly after. It was part of the agreement. She would live with him there for two years before returning to the United States.