“You’re the only one who can stop Wendell now!”
“Just delete your post and claim it was a mistake. Please.”
I pushed her away gently, but the message was clear: there would be no bending.
Seeing this, Wendell’s face crumpled, his eyes flooding with tears.
“Harris, I’ve wronged you. It’s all my fault. I acted rashly and took credit for your work. And now… the only way I can make up for it is to end it all.”
He moved toward the edge, his body swaying as if ready to leap.
Leigh, panic consuming her, rushed to his side. Without warning, she seized a handcrafted knife from the table, pressing it to her own throat.
“Harris, will you only be satisfied if you push me to death if that’s what it takes to make Wendell pay for his mistake?”
Her voice trembled with raw emotion, her tear-streaked face haunting me.
My mind was clouded with memories at that moment and I struggled to focus.
Seven years ago, when we first declared our love, her family had been vehemently against it. They tried everything to tear us apart.
In the end, it had been Leigh who, with a fruit knife in her trembling hand, threatened her own life to force them to relent.
The look in her eyes back then had mirrored the one she wore now.
But this time, she wasn’t fighting for us. No, she was fighting for Wendell.
At that moment, my heart turned as cold as ice. I pulled out my phone and deleted the post from everyone.
“Leigh, I’ll do as you wish.”
“Are you satisfied now?”
As soon as I issued the statement, Wendell climbed down from the windowsill, his legs still shaking as they touched the ground.
Leigh didn’t even look at me as she rushed toward him, pulling him into a tight embrace.
“Wendell, are you okay?”
“You were so reckless. If you’d really jumped, do you know how devastated I’d have been?”
Watching them cling to each other, a hollow laugh escaped my lips. I turned and walked away, the bitter taste of self-mockery filling my mouth.
On my way home, I dialed a friend, asking him to dig into something for me.
He agreed without hesitation, his response swift. Within the hour, a report landed in my inbox.
As I read through it, my suspicions were confirmed. Wendell’s dramatic stunt had been carefully calculated and every move was designed with a specific intent.
The next day dawned with the Portland Winter Light Festival in full swing.
The Ellis Family, ever the magnates, had rented out Portland’s only six-star hotel, transforming it into the backdrop for their grand banquet.
Tobias Ellis and Aliah Ellis were positively beaming, their spirits high, buoyed by the soaring stock prices of Ellis Group since the market had reopened.
The statement I’d issued had worked its magic.
On that day, Leigh was the picture of elegance, more radiant than ever.
She stood on the stage in a custom-designed gown, flowers in hand, the engagement ring glittering like a promise as she awaited the moment that would change everything.
The guests buzzed with eager anticipation, each one waiting for the grand moment to unfold.
But none of them knew the truth, that I had already boarded a cruise ship, my mother’s urn in hand, severing every last tie with Leigh.
As the minutes dragged on and I failed to appear, Leigh’s unease began to rise.
She turned to Wendell, asking him to call me, desperate for any word. But his calls went unanswered, blocked, just like the rest.
A knot tightened in her chest and she quickly grabbed her phone, dialing me herself.
When the automated message greeted her, telling her my number was unreachable, her brows furrowed in frustration.
