The night before the wedding, Adam Jackson's first love, Emilie Grant, was involved in a car accident, and Lisa became the prime suspect. Adam refused to hear her out, demanding they break off the engagement. He fanned the flames when her story was shared online, vowing to make her pay twice over. The five years of love and trust she thought they shared had only been an illusion.
When the truth was finally revealed, Lisa had just suffered a miscarriage. Her former fiancé fell to his knees, crying and begging for forgiveness. But she responded coldly, “Impossible! I should be thanking you for not marrying me!”
——
For months, Lisa had been tirelessly planning their wedding set for early next month, but fell ill as the seasons changed. She took time off to rest at home, but one afternoon, as she lay in a daze, she was jolted awake by a sudden, forceful shake.
“Come with me.”
Her fiancé, Adam, said only these three words before pulling her out of bed, leading her hastily down to the underground garage.
“Adam, weren’t you on a business trip in the capital? What happened?” Lisa asked, her feet aching as she walked barefoot, trying to keep up.
Adam was livid. "Stop pretending to be innocent. Why did you hit Emilie with your car?"
Lisa, still groggy from being unwell, tried to process what he was saying. "I’ve been home all day resting... I haven’t..."
Before she could finish, Adam grabbed her arm, dragging her toward the newly purchased Mercedes-Benz. He pointed furiously at the car’s damaged headlight. "This is the evidence. What else do you have to say for yourself?"
Lisa stared at the crushed front bumper and shattered headlight. The damage was severe, the kind that only a serious collision would cause. But that couldn’t be possible—she had parked the car in the garage after driving it back at noon, and it hadn’t been touched since.
“Adam, you’ve got it wrong! I wasn’t feeling well, so I spent the whole afternoon sleeping. I didn’t leave the house. Maybe someone else hit it while it was parked here. If you don’t believe me, check the security footage!” Lisa’s face turned pale, her voice filled with urgency.
At the mention of surveillance, Adam’s expression darkened even further. Wordlessly, he pulled out his phone, pulled up the security footage, and tossed it toward her.
"See for yourself."
Lisa took the phone and pressed play, her face draining of color as she watched. The timestamp showed that at 3:10 p.m., her Mercedes-Benz with the license plate number Nan A0926 suddenly sped up and collided with the BMW in front of it. The impact sent the BMW spiraling out of control into a guardrail, while the Mercedes-Benz then accelerated and fled the scene.
That license plate—September 26—was Lisa’s birthday. The car had been a gift from Adam on their fourth anniversary, and he’d chosen her birthday as the plate number to make it “more memorable.”
Lisa watched the footage again and again, struggling to process what she was seeing. Her hands trembled, and words failed her. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t her.
She was home resting at that time—there was no way she could have been on the highway, much less involved in a hit-and-run that injured Emilie.
“With all the witnesses and physical evidence, what more can you say to defend yourself?” Adam’s voice rose in anger. “I agreed to marry you, to make you Mrs. Jackson to give you everything. Why, then, would you hurt Emilie? Why?” He roared the last words, his face twisted with rage.
Lisa stood frozen, overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness like she had never felt before. “It wasn’t me!” she managed, her voice shaking. “If you don’t believe me, check the garage entry and exit logs. The surveillance footage can’t lie!”
But Adam’s gaze held only cold contempt. “I already checked,” he said icily. “I went to the security room myself before coming here. The records show that your car left the garage through the west gate at 2:40 this afternoon.”
