Zachary didn’t just hate Danielle—he hated himself even more.

For being so damn blind.

"Zachary, it’s been three years. Three years!" Danielle said, her voice cracking. "And you still don’t love me?"

She just couldn’t wrap her head around it.

What was she missing?

She had the looks. She had the background. She was just as good as Rebecca—wasn’t she?

Why? Why the hell not her?

Zachary was ...