I found the prenuptial agreement in the lining of a coat my husband hadn't worn since our wedding day. Ten years. Three thousand six hundred and fifty nights. Julian Ward never touched me. Then I read the clause: Transfer of marital rights upon conditions to be determined by the Ward Foundation board. I asked for a divorce. He smiled like I'd just made a fatal mistake. That night, I ran to Michael—my oldest friend, the only man I trusted. Instead, I heard him planning with Julian. Tomorrow, Michael would marry me. Then they would take me to a facility. Julian's dying sister needed my blood, and my untouched body was the price. Everyone wins, Julian said. Everyone except me. Now I'm on the run with no money, no allies, and a decade of lies behind me. But if they think I'm still the obedient wife who signed without reading, they're about to learn exactly what I'm willing to do.