Twelve years with a gang boss, he washed up for her.

Julian Blackwood was a name whispered in fear across the city's underworld. The night before he was set to finally leave that life behind and marry me, Isabella Hayes, I stumbled upon a phone in his closet I'd never seen before.

The wallpaper showed a sweet-faced girl. No suspicious messages, no explicit photos – nothing overtly intimate.

I wasn't about to play dumb. I slammed the phone down in front of him, my voice shaking with rage.

Julian didn't say a word, didn't try to soothe me. He stayed in his study all night, only walking into the bedroom as dawn broke. He pulled me into a hug.