Elena Moreau never believed in love.
She believed in patterns, psychology, and data. Love, as the world saw it, was nothing more than an illusion-an intricate game of hormones and neural responses, a deception the mind played on itself. And she was an expert at decoding that deception.
As a psychologist and scientist, Elena had spent years studying the male psyche, pushing boundaries where others dared not tread. Her research was unconventional, even controversial-faking love affairs to observe emotions firsthand, peeling away the layers of desire, passion, and heartbreak.
Every relationship was an experiment. Every man was a subject.
Until she met him.
A long-distance connection, unexpected and intoxicating. What was meant to be just another study soon blurred into something else.