From Ashes, A New Love Reborn

My husband, the city's most formidable lawyer, destroyed my family to protect his ex-girlfriend. He framed my brother, leading to my parents' deaths and our company's collapse.

He promised to free my brother if I stayed. But on the day of the final appeal, he never showed up.

My brother lost his last chance at freedom. I later found out why Hamilton was absent. He was at a picnic, celebrating his ex-girlfriend's dog's birthday.

My brother's life, my entire world, was worth less than a puppy. The love I had for him shattered into dust.

So I underwent an experimental therapy to erase him from my mind. When he finally tracked me down in Paris, begging me to come back, I looked at the man who had been my world and asked,

"I'm sorry, have we met?"

Chapter 1

April POV:

The first time my husband, Hamilton Jones, raped me, I did nothing. The second time, I called the police. It was Thanksgiving Day, our first as a married couple, and the smell of roasting turkey filled the air as I told the 911 operator that the man I had promised to love, honor, and cherish had just violated me.

When the two officers arrived at our penthouse apartment, their expressions were a mixture of confusion and deference. They knew Hamilton. Everyone in New York knew Hamilton Jones, the formidable corporate lawyer who had never lost a case.

"Mrs. Jones?" the older officer, a man named Peterson, asked cautiously. He kept glancing at Hamilton, who was leaning against the marble archway of our living room, looking completely unbothered. "There must be some misunderstanding."

"There' s no misunderstanding," I said, my voice trembling. I clutched the torn fabric of my silk dress at my chest. "I want to report him for rape."

The word hung in the air, ugly and sharp. The younger officer shifted uncomfortably.

Hamilton pushed himself off the wall and walked toward us, his expensive leather shoes making no sound on the polished floor. He was still in his bespoke suit, not a hair out of place. He looked at the officers with a familiar, charming smile. "Gentlemen, I apologize for my wife. She' s been under a lot of stress lately."

"Hamilton, don' t you dare," I hissed, taking a step back.

"April, darling, stop this," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur that was meant only for me, but loud enough for them to hear the feigned concern. "You' re making a scene."

"I have evidence," I said, my voice rising with desperation. I turned to Officer Peterson, my eyes pleading. "My dress is torn. I have bruises." I pulled the collar of my dress aside to show the darkening marks on my shoulder.

Hamilton sighed, a long, theatrical sound of a man burdened by a hysterical wife. He ran a hand through his perfectly styled dark hair. "We had an argument, officers. Things got a little heated. It happens in a marriage."