Bellissima

Bella's eyes glistened with unshed tears as Alexander's gaze turned lethal, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"This ends now," he snarled. "You've already destroyed everything I built. One more mistake, and our agreement is void."

The threat hung between them like shattered glass. Bella glanced around nervously, desperate to avoid the scrutiny of his elite circle—people who would feast on any sign of weakness, any hint of scandal between a billionaire and his bride.

Alexander's expression hardened into contempt before he turned and left her standing alone.

Bella smoothed her dress and composed her features, stepping back into the glittering ballroom where Alexander had already transformed into the devoted husband, his hand possessive at her waist, his smile effortless and convincing.

But she knew the truth. Her reflection in his eyes wasn't recognition—it was hatred meant for someone else. Bella wasn't his real wife. She was a ghost wearing another woman's face, a doppelganger bound to a man who despised the original.

Alexander loathes his wife with a passion that burns like fire. But what happens when he discovers the woman beside him in the shadows of his penthouse, the one warming his bed and bearing his touch, is a complete stranger wearing his wife's beautiful face?