Page 72 of The Vow

“Antoni. I want her found. I want to know if she had any idea. And then I want her dead, do you understand?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering what he would ask if he knew I was right here.Wondering if he would kill me with his bare hands?

Their footsteps and voices faded, and I tipped forward just enough to see them enter Sinclair’s office and close the door behind them. Without thinking, I bolted from my post and ran to the fireplace, grabbing the wad of paper and praying it contained an answer.

Magnus,

I know this letter will come as a surprise to you, but not the choices in it. While I’ve loved you in the past, you know I’m nothing more than a victim to the whims of my heart. Our love hasn’t existed for some time, though I’ve stayed for the sake of our daughter. But I can’t stay anymore. My heart has found another.

Damon and I are in love.

My knees sagged, and I reached for the mantle for support.

We’ve tried to resist and deny. Damon even married to obscure our clandestine relationship. But I can’t do it anymore. My heart has another love, and I must follow it, and it will be best for you to let us go. I wish you all the best, ma chèr Magnus.

Sandrine

If Sinclair had walked into the room right then, I wouldn’t even have had the strength to be afraid. I wouldn’t have had the strength to be anything but broken.

My mind warred like oil and water trying to mix. I couldn’t believe the man I’d married, the man I’d spent the last nine months living with and falling for, had just disappeared…with another woman.

No.

I refused to believe it. There had to be another explanation.Anyother explanation.

Yes, Sandrine and Damon were close. We’d all become close since Damon and I began our ruse; it was the whole purpose for it. And yes, she’d coquettishly flirted with him, but she did that with everyone; it was her personality. And Damon never seemed to be affected by it.

Then again, lying…making the people around him, the people who felt closest to him, believe untruths was what he was trained to do.

No. He loved me. He’d made a vow to me. There had to be an explanation.

And it was to that belief that I staked myself. My hopes.My future. My heart. And then I slipped back out of Sinclair’s house the way I’d come, deciding the best thing to do was keep myself safe until Damon came for me.

Over the next two months, I burned for that belief.

Forty-eight hours after they’d disappeared, I feared the worst: that Sinclair had found them and killed them both. Then I convinced myself Damon must’ve gotten them to the safety of the FBI and they were looking for a way to turn around and quickly arrest Sinclair. I left the city and went south to Carmel Cove. I kept a low profile and stayed in my brothers’ vacant apartment since they were overseas.

Every day, I waited for the knock. Wondering who would find me first: Sinclair. Damon. Or the authorities when they realized Damon and I were married.

The knock never came.

A week after Damon and Sandrine disappeared, my husband’s face appeared on every news station, headlines plastered with crimes I knew he hadn’t committed. Fraud and drugs, accounts in his name filled with millions of dollars stolen from Sinclair’s clients. At every turn, I waited for the announcement that Damon returned and exonerated himself, but it never came. Instead, there were only more rumors that he’d fled the country under another alias, officially branding him a traitor to the United States.

Days turned into months, all without a single word or sign that he was okay. Still, I found more excuses. I mined them out of the depths of my despair, clinging to the polished memories of our time together. The instant connection. The unquenchablepassion. The exquisite promises of love and a future—the perfect lure for someone as lonely as me.

Months spilled into each other and then into years. My brothers returned from overseas and opened a business. My focus homed in on putting other criminals behind bars. And somehow, I moved forward.

Every so often, I’d hear about the famed traitor, Damon Remington. I’d hear about another crime he’d facilitated. Another villainous feat he’d accomplished. And eventually, the renown of his more intimate exploits along the way.

He’d become a bad spy. A bad Bond. Charismatic and criminal. And I…I’d been nothing more than a casualty.

A pawn in his game to gain wealth and notoriety by working alongside Sinclair and then betraying him. I doubted he’d loved Sandrine either. Somehow, I was sure she was one more piece he deployed to aggrandize his entrance into the underworld.

And I swore, one day, I’d make my husband pay for what he’d done, and maybe then, my heart would start beating again.

Chapter Nineteen

Robyn

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