Seven days before the wedding, Ronald Harding was in a car accident.
I kept vigil in the ICU for seventy-two hours, clutching the wedding invitations I hadn't had time to print.
My phone buzzed.
It was an email from “Eternity Corp.”
“Dear Ms. Pruitt, our client Mr. Ronald Harding has failed to check in for 72 consecutive hours. Per the terms of his estate-trust agreement, we are forwarding all archived estate materials to you as his designated recipient.”
Attached was a compressed file.
I never knew Ronald had set up an estate trust, let alone that he'd named me as his beneficiary.
A raw ache spread through my chest. So he'd already decided I was the most important person in his life.
My hands were shaking as I opened the file.
The next second, I couldn't move.
His pinned conversation wasn't with me. It was with Hope Summers.
My maid of honor. My best friend of eight years.
The earliest message was dated three years ago, on Valentine's Day.
Ronald：“Is she asleep?”
Hope：“Just dozed off. She saw the Van Cleef necklace you got me and asked who it was from. I told her it was a birthday gift from my mom. She didn't suspect a thing, so don't worry.”
Ronald：“I'm sorry you have to go through this. Once the studio's stable, I'll break things off with her. I promise I'll make us official.”
Hope：“I'm not suffering. As long as I'm with you, nothing else matters.”
——
My fingers froze against the screen.
I'd been with Ronald for five years. Hope had been in my life for eight.
The three of us graduated together, built the studio together.
Scraped by in this city with nothing until we finally found our footing.
I had never once doubted either of them.
Three years ago.
Back then, Ronald and I had just landed our first round of funding. I thought our future was wide open.
And all along, he'd already started a new chapter with someone else.
I swallowed the shock and the bitterness and kept scrolling.
Each message crushed my heart a little more, like a cold fist grinding it to dust.
Our home. He'd decorated it to Hope's taste.
Our wedding itinerary. He'd designed it with Hope while the two of them vacationed in Malibu.
He told me he'd been on a business trip to Harbor City that week, too busy to reply to my texts.
I'd felt sorry for him, worried he was burning himself out working late every night.
The engagement ring he gave me was the same model as the one he bought Hope.
Only mine had a smaller stone. Cheaper.
The wedding I'd spent six months planning was nothing but a joke the two of them had written for me.
They'd had it mapped out all along.
On the day of the ceremony, Ronald would stop mid-vow and announce that the woman he truly loved was Hope.
Then the two of them would walk out hand in hand, right in front of every friend and family member we had.
And I'd be left standing on that stage alone, the laughingstock of the entire city.
I stared at the love notes, the intimate photos taken in our home, the videos too vile to describe.
My stomach turned violently.
I barely made it to the bathroom before I was retching so hard the room spun.
When it was over, I looked up at my own reflection. Gaunt, hollowed out, wrecked. And then I laughed.
I was such a fool.
The whole world knew they were together. I was the only one still in the dark.
A nurse came rushing over.
“Ms. Pruitt, Mr. Harding is awake! He's been moved to a regular room. You can see him now.”
I wiped my eyes and took a long breath.
Then I slipped my phone into my pocket and walked into his room.
Ronald lay in the hospital bed, face white as the sheets, lips dry and cracked.
When he saw me, he managed a weak smile and reached out his hand.
“Millie, you're here. I missed you so much.”
“When the car hit, I thought I'd never see you again.”
