ZYRAN'S POV

Five years.

One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days of waking up in a cold, empty bed. Five years of staring at the ceiling, haunted by her tears and the guilt that consumed me.

I had hired the best private investigators money could find. I had people searching through different countries, different cities, old records, hotels, airports, and every place I thought she might have gone.

Nothing.

It was as if Roosevelt had disappeared from the face of the earth. But I knew she was alive. I had to believe that.

The problem was that Roosevelt had been very careful.

After she left me, she stopped using the...