Anabelle inherited a crumbling castle. She didn't expect it to come with a devastatingly handsome vampire who thinks she's his dead fiancée.

Vladislaus Dracul appeared in her office like he owned the place—which he had for three centuries. Impossibly beautiful, infuriatingly knowledgeable about every flaw in her building, and insisting he work only at night.

Red flags everywhere.

But when he saved a guest with superhuman speed, when she felt fangs during a kiss that left her breathless, denial became impossible. Her night caretaker was the original Count Dracul, and she wore the face of the woman whose death had driven him to centuries of guilt-ridden slumber.

Every touch awakened memories that weren't hers. Every glance carried the weight of a love story that ended in flames.

But was he seeing Anabelle, or mourning Elenora's ghost?

She should run. Should call the police, or a priest, or an exorcist.

Instead, she was falling for a man who whispered her name like a prayer and kissed her like he'd been starving for centuries.

Then his ancient enemy arrived to finish what he'd started. Lucian wanted her blood for a ritual that would grant him unimaginable power, and he was willing to burn down her castle—again—to get it.

With her heart torn between a vampire who might love a ghost more than her, Anabelle faced an impossible choice: trust the man who'd awakened something she thought she'd buried, or lose everything to an enemy who'd waited three centuries for revenge.

†This story was produced using author‑directed AI tools.

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