Chapter 1

“Do you still want to marry me? If yes, then come get me in a week. I’m gonna be a runaway bride.”

I hung up before Martin could finish. My sworn enemy since I was sixteen, the last person I should run to. But right now, I’d rather run into his arms than stay with Troy and Trevor. My perfect boyfriend and my perfect best friend.

Once upon a time, it was the three of us—always together, always laughing. Then, I brought my cousin Jasmine. And ever since, they kept choosing her.

The final betrayal came three days ago. Jasmine and I were out shopping when armed men stormed in. The kidnappers gave them a choice: save only one. They didn’t even hesitate. They chose Jasmine.

I was left behind.

Later, on Jasmine’s birthday—the party they threw for her while forgetting mine—they let me drown in the pool, fully aware I couldn’t swim. That was the last straw.

I packed my bags, and decided not to show up at the wedding Troy and I planned. I thought they’d be happy I was gone. But they showed up on my wedding day, begging for forgiveness as they realized my worth too late.

--

“Do you still want to marry me?” The phone pressed hard to my ear as I stared at the cracked ceiling of my room. “If yes, then come get me in a week.”

There was a beat of static, then Martin’s exasperated scoff echoed through the line. “Okay, babe? What’s wrong now? Agreeing to marry me when you’ve sworn to never even look at me? What happened to the love of your life—Troy? Aren’t you engaged to your perfect golden boy?”

My chest pinched. I dug my nails into my palm, grounding myself. “I’m going to be a runaway bride. So if you want me, come get me.”

I hung up before Martin could finish. I could already imagine him tossing his phone across his fancy living room, cursing my name like he used to in high school. The mighty Martin—my sworn enemy since I was sixteen—was the last person I should run to. But right now, I’d rather run into his arms than stay here.

Than stay with them.

Troy and Trevor. My perfect boyfriend and my perfect best friend.

Once upon a time, it was the three of us—always together, always laughing. The kind of best friends people envied. We were kids when we promised each other forever, that nothing and no one would ever break us apart.

And then my cousin Jasmine arrived. I had brought her in like family should, trusting her with the deepest parts of my life. I should’ve seen it coming. The stolen glances between Jasmine and Troy, the lingering touches, the excuses Trevor made when he canceled plans with me. But I loved them—I thought love would make them stay loyal.

What a fool.

It was three months ago when the first dagger sank in. Jasmine sent me a video—Troy, my fiancé, tangled up in bed with her. She sent it with a giggle and a single line: Oops, sorry, wrong sender. You weren’t supposed to see that.

The latest betrayal was the hostage. Three days ago, Jasmine and I were shopping when men with weapons stormed in. Screaming, chaos, a barrel pressed against my head. And when they asked Troy and Trevor to choose—only one girl to save—they didn’t even hesitate. They chose Jasmine.

They left me there. I remembered Jasmine’s crocodile tears as she was pulled to safety, leaving me kneeling on the cold marble floor. I fought. I begged. I was hurt, tortured, until strangers in SWAT gear finally dragged me out. And still, Troy and Trevor never visited me in the hospital. Not once.

A loud thrum of bass rattled the walls, snapping me back to the present. The party was in full swing—Jasmine’s birthday. Of course. They remembered her birthday but not mine.

I rolled onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut.

A sudden creak of the door made me jolt. Jasmine stood there in the glow of the hallway light, hair perfect, silk dress shimmering, a glass of red wine perched in her hand like a trophy. She smirked. “Oh. You’re here. Aren’t you supposed to be at the party? Serving drinks?”

I forced my voice to stay calm. “I’m not your maid, Jasmine. Get out. I want to sleep.”

She pouted dramatically. “Really? You want to rest? Or you’re just jealous because Troy and Trevor threw me this party? Come on, Camille. Stop sulking.”

She reached out, grabbed my wrist with those manicured claws. “Let’s go downstairs. You should see how much they love me.”

“I said no.” I yanked my hand back. “Get out.”

Her face hardened for half a second before she twisted it into a mask of fake pain. She let out a deep sigh, flung her glass of wine to the floor where it shattered—then she dropped down onto her ankle, whimpering like an injured puppy.

“Camille! Why—why would you push me? My ankle—”

Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Of course. Troy and Trevor, their savior instincts kicking in, only for her.

“Jas? What’s wrong?” Troy demanded, pulling her into his arms. Trevor glared at me like I’d kicked a kitten.

“I—I just wanted her to come to the party and have fun,” Jasmine sniffed, eyes glistening. “But she hates me. She pushed me.”

“She’s lying—”

“Enough!” Troy snapped. “You’re still playing the victim? Is this because of the hostage? You’re mad at us for choosing her. But you’re alive, aren’t you? Be grateful.”

Trevor crossed his arms. “She just wants to celebrate her birthday. But you ruin everything, Camille. You always have.”

Jasmine turned her face into Troy’s chest, smirking where they couldn’t see. “Don’t be harsh on her,” she cooed. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

They didn’t see the venom in her eyes when she peeked at me.

I wanted to scream. To rip her hair out. But what was the point? They’d always believe her.

Troy’s grip tightened on Jasmine’s shoulder. “If you keep this attitude, Camille, you don’t deserve to be my wife.”

Trevor snorted. “You don’t even deserve to be our friend.”

The world tilted. But I stayed still. One more week.

“Go downstairs,” Troy ordered. “Serve drinks. Make yourself useful.”

I could’ve refused. Should’ve. But instead, I nodded numbly, feet moving like I was sleepwalking. In my mind, I was already gone.

I carried trays of champagne through the glittering crowd, eyes blurry with unshed tears. Jasmine’s laugh cut through the music—she was radiant, dancing with my people.

Then something slammed into my back. A hand, one of Jasmine’s friends. A shove. I stumbled. The tray clattered from my hands and I tumbled over the edge of the pool.

Cold swallowed me whole. I thrashed, but I’d never learned how to swim. Water filled my lungs. I could see them on the edge—Troy, Trevor, Jasmine—watching.

“She’s faking it,” Troy said.

“Always desperate for attention,” Trevor added.

And Jasmine? She just tilted her head, smiling.

The last thing I heard was laughter bubbling above the waterline as darkness dragged me under.

One more week, I told myself. Just one more week—

And then, nothing.

Chapter 2

When I came to, the sky above me was pale and bruised with dawn. I was lying on the pool’s edge, clothes clinging wet and heavy against my bones. The faint taste of chlorine burned my throat.

For a second, I just lay there—staring at the water that had almost swallowed me whole. The silence of the backyard was deafening. The party was over. The fairy lights still flickered, swinging from the trees like mocking ghosts.

I pushed myself up, my arms trembling from exhaustion. The ground was littered with broken plastic cups, confetti soggy with dew, and half-eaten food rotting on paper plates. All the evidence of a celebration I was never truly part of.

I managed to stand. My body ached with every step. I was almost to the sliding glass doors when I heard his voice.

“Well, look who finally crawled out.”

Troy’s silhouette stood in the hallway, hands shoved in his pockets like he was the king of this mess. His eyes flicked over me, wet hair plastered to my cheeks, skin pruned from hours in the water.

“Clean this up,” he said flatly.

I blinked. “Troy… I—I’m tired. I almost—”

“So what?” His eyes hardened. “You embarrassed us last night. You always do. You want to be useful for once? Start with this. Maybe then you’ll be worth something.”

A gentle hand brushed Troy’s arm. Jasmine, still in her slinky birthday dress, hair perfect, face fresh. She looked at me with a pitying smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“It’s okay, Troy,” she cooed sweetly. “Let’s just ask the cleaner to do it. Camille should rest. She must be so… fragile.”

Trevor’s laugh cracked through the air behind them. “A waste of money when the trash can take itself out. She made the mess—she cleans it.”

They left me there, standing on wobbly feet, the door clicking shut behind them. I stared at the piles of garbage, the filthy pool water rippling behind me. A good dog would obey, right? That’s what I’d always been for them—loyal. Silent. Replaceable.

One more week, I reminded myself. Just one more week.

So I cleaned. I scrubbed sticky soda from the tiles until my fingers cramped. Hauled out trash bags that reeked of cheap liquor and lies. I gagged when I found lipstick-stained glasses tossed by the pool—my cousin’s shade of red.

By morning, my head was pounding and my stomach screamed. I dragged myself to the kitchen, hoping for something—anything.

They were all there. Jasmine perched on the counter, Troy and Trevor at the table, laughing like they hadn’t almost watched me drown hours ago. The smell of bacon and fresh bread made my chest tighten.

I reached for a plate. Jasmine’s eyes snapped to my hand.

“Oh,” she said, her voice bright and cruel. “That’s not for you.”

I froze. “What?”

She giggled. “I said, it’s not for you. Don’t eat it. This is for the dog.”

I watched her slide off the counter and kneel dramatically, setting the plate on the floor for Trevor’s yapping terrier. The dog sniffed it eagerly.

Troy didn’t even look up. “Just cook something for yourself, Camille. Don’t make a scene.”

My hands shook. The smell made my stomach twist painfully. But I didn’t argue. I turned away. In the hallway, I pressed my back against the wall and let the emptiness settle in my chest like a stone.

No tears. Not anymore.

Instead, memories came flooding back, uninvited. Me, Troy, and Trevor in the old treehouse behind my parents’ house—back when I still had parents. I was ten when the car crash took them both. Troy and Trevor’s families took me in, promising to protect me, keep me safe. You’ll never be alone, Camille. We’re family.

Troy had slipped a cheap promise ring on my finger when I was eighteen, swearing he’d marry me, take care of me forever. But Jasmine showed up, and forever slipped away like water through my fingers. I’d been so stupid—I’d invited her in, let her sleep in my room, let her share my food, my secrets, my heart.

I’d watched her carve out my place like it belonged to her.

A buzz from my phone made my chest seize. I fumbled to unlock it. Martin.

Everything’s ready. One more week, sweetheart. No turning back. You’ll be mine.

Okay, I typed back. I’m ready.

When the house went quiet, I dragged out every box I had hidden in my closet. Old photographs, dried flowers, the promise ring Troy had given me, letters Trevor had written me when we were kids, scribbled in messy crayon. I carried it all out into the backyard.

The flame caught with a greedy hiss, and I watched our childhood burn—embers of broken promises dancing into the dawn sky.

I didn’t hear Troy’s footsteps until he was beside me. His face twisted in disbelief. “What the on earth are you doing? Did you just burn our things?”

I didn’t flinch. I met his eyes, the way I hadn’t in months. “Those weren’t your things. Those were our memories. Old ghosts. I want to forget them.”

Chapter 3

Troy’s face contorted into something ugly. He stepped closer, the smoke swirling between us. “What did you just say?” he hissed. “You want to forget us? Are you insulting me? Insulting Trevor? After everything we’ve done for you—since your parents died—”

I kept my arms at my sides, nails digging crescents into my palms. “I didn’t say anything you didn’t already know.”

He laughed. A sharp, humorless bark that made my stomach twist. “We took you in! We made sure you had everything! We run your precious business for you! And this is how you repay us—burning your past like it’s trash?”

I met his eyes, unflinching. “It is trash, Troy. That’s what it’s become.”

His nostrils flared. He lunged forward, fingers digging into my arm so tight I knew it’d bruise. “Say that again. Go on. Say it again, Camille.”

Silence. That was my weapon now. I swallowed every retort and let it sit heavy behind my ribs. I refused to give him my tears. Not this time.

“Why aren’t you saying something?” Troy snarled, shaking me once, twice. The smell of the fire clung to his shirt, the smoke clung to my hair. “Do you want me to call off the engagement? Is that what you want?”

Once, that threat would’ve made my knees buckle. Once, I would have begged him to stay. Once, I’d have folded myself into an apology I didn’t owe, just for a chance to keep him beside me. Once.

But not today.

“Do whatever you want, Troy.” My voice didn’t even crack. “You truly disappoint me.”

I saw the shock flicker across his eyes—just for a split second—before it curdled into rage. His mouth opened, ready to spit something cruel and familiar.

But Jasmine’s scream sliced through the dawn like a blade. “Help! Troy! Trevor! Help me!”

I heard footsteps pounding down the stairs. Trevor’s voice echoed in the hallway, frantic. “Jasmine? What happened?”

Troy released me like I was poison. Without another word, he ran to her—like he always did. My arm throbbed where his fingers had dug in, but I barely felt it. I stood there, listening to the two of them fawn over Jasmine’s fake cries, remembering how many times I’d screamed and no one had come.

She always knew how to play them, I thought bitterly. Jasmine was good at being helpless. Good at being adored. And I had been stupid enough to think she was my family.

I turned on my heel, stepping back into the cold emptiness of the apartment I paid for. I let their voices fade behind me. The moment my door clicked shut, the last bit of restraint I’d been holding in my chest finally loosened.

I crossed the room and picked up my phone with trembling fingers. I found the number—my lawyer’s private line. He answered on the second ring.

“Ms. Navarro? Are you alright?”

“No,” I said flatly, staring at the scorched edges of my memories still clinging to my skin. “But I will be. I want you to put the apartment up for sale. Find a bidder. Cash deal, no questions asked.”

There was a pause. “Ma’am, this is your primary residence—”

“I don’t care,” I snapped. “I want it gone. And there’s more.” I sank onto the edge of the bed, my pulse hammering in my ears. “Draft the paperwork to terminate Troy and Trevor’s contracts from Navarro Trading. Effective immediately.”

Another pause, sharper this time. “You want to fire them both? But they’re your co-managers—”

“Not for long,” I cut him off, a sick sort of relief pooling in my stomach. “I want them out of my business, out of my life. I’ll sign whatever I need to sign today.”

“Understood. I’ll start the process. Are you… certain?”

I looked around my room—once my sanctuary, now just a prison cell with white walls and broken promises. I thought about the day Troy had slipped the ring on my finger, the way Trevor used to laugh and swear he’d always protect me. I thought about my mother’s ring hidden in my dresser—my mother, who always said family is the people who never let you go.

They had let me go a long time ago. I was just the last to see it.

“I’m certain,” I breathed. “No more running in circles. I want my life back.”

“Okay, but the company, who will handle it for you?”

I responded with a smile. “Once I’m married, I’ll transfer the company to Martin’s name. He’s more than capable of running it. Better him than Troy, who only wants it for himself.”

There was nothing left to say after that. I ended the call before the lawyer could try to talk me out of it. I needed to believe I could still save something for myself. If Martin was willing to stand by my side—even if I’d spent half my life hating him—I’d let him.

Chapter 4

I didn’t even realize I’d dozed off until the bedroom door creaked open. I flinched awake to find Troy standing there with a tray. The smell of my favorite soup—creamy chicken and wild rice—wafted across the room.

He held up the tray with that fake boyish grin that used to make my heart ache. Pathetic, I thought. The same old routine.

“Cam, you should eat something. You look so tired. All this stress about the company paperwork and the wedding… I don’t like seeing you like this.”

I forced my face to stay blank. What do you want? I wanted to scream it in his face.

Because I knew this game. It was his favorite scheme—like clockwork. Whenever he needed me to bend, whenever he wanted me pliable and sweet, he’d show up like this. A tray of warm soup. That soft, sorry look in his eyes.

I used to think it meant he loved me. I used to fall for it every single time.

Don’t be mad, Cam, I heard his voice echo from years ago—back when we were just twenty, back when I still believed he’d never betray me. Don’t be mad. Look, I brought you your favorite—come on, baby, eat. Smile for me.

And I would. Like a fool, I’d smile through my tears, swallow my hurt, forgive his betrayal—his flirty glances with Jasmine, his forgotten promises. Every bowl of soup tasted like my own stupidity.

But not anymore.

He sat beside me on the bed, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. We’re almost there, right? After the wedding, it’ll all be done. The merger will go through, and we can finally start our real life.”

The words made bile rise in my throat. “The paperwork will be ready after the wedding,” I said flatly.

He grinned. “Good. I can’t wait to make you mine forever.”

I swallowed my disgust. He didn’t want me—he wanted my name, my father’s legacy. My stomach twisted when I imagined him and Jasmine laughing about how they’d finally secured their golden ticket.

Later that afternoon, we went to the boutique to fit my wedding dress. Jasmine tagged along, of course, breezing around the silk-lined showroom like she owned it. The moment my gown was brought out, her eyes glittered with something cold and possessive.

“Let me try it on,” she said sweetly. “Just for fun. I’ve always wanted to see what I’d look like in a wedding gown.”

I gaped at her. “Are you serious? That’s my dress—”

“Oh, come on, Cam. Let her,” Troy drawled from the velvet couch, not even glancing at me. “If she wants to see how it looks, what’s the harm? You can buy another one if you want.”

I looked at him like he’d grown two heads. “It’s my dress, Troy. I’m the bride.”

Trevor, lounging beside him, shrugged. “So what? It’s just a color. Don’t be dramatic.”

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails bit into my palms. Jasmine’s eyes glittered with victory as she twirled in my gown in front of the mirrors. When she finally stepped out, leaving the fabric crumpled and reeking of her perfume, I told myself it didn’t matter. I’d never wear it anyway.

I picked another simple gown and slipped into the fitting room. The satin was soft against my skin, almost mocking in its promise of a fairytale that wasn’t real. From the other side of the door, Jasmine’s voice drifted through—sharp and low.

“When will you be gone, Camille? Are you sure you’re marrying him? You know he doesn’t want you. He’ll come back to me in the end.”

I pressed my palm to the cold wall, forcing my voice not to crack. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon. You’ll get what you want.”

She laughed, a brittle, empty sound. “Good. I’m tired of pretending. You’re just in the way.”

I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the sick twist in my chest. Then I smelled it. Smoke. Faint at first, then thicker. I pushed the door open a crack—and flames flickered along the floor-length curtain.

“Help!” I screamed. “Someone—there’s a fire—help me!”

Through the haze, I saw them. Troy, Trevor, Jasmine—standing together by the boutique door. Jasmine pressed her hand to her mouth, eyes wide. “Oh no! Camille—save her!”

But Troy just looked bored. “She’s fine. Let’s go out before you get hurt. We don’t want you to get bruises, you know how precious you are to us..”

Trevor scoffed. “And she can handle herself.”

Their shapes blurred as the smoke thickened. My throat burned. I stumbled backward, reaching for the wall, but the satin tangled around my feet. The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was Jasmine’s cold smile behind her perfect mask of concern.

Chapter 5

When I woke up, everything smelled faintly of smoke and antiseptic. The ceiling above me was a bland hospital white, and for a moment I felt like I might lose air under it. A nurse hovered at my side, checking the bandage on my wrist.

“You’re lucky,” she said softly, like it was some grand blessing. “The fire didn’t cause any permanent damage. You were saved in time.”

Saved? Lucky? If only she knew.

The flames didn’t really burn me. The betrayal did. Over and over, scorching deeper than any fire could reach.

I pressed my eyes shut, fighting the stinging behind my lids. I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. Not now, Camille. Hold it in.

Just then, the door swung open and Troy strolled in like he owned the place—like he still owned me. A pitying frown curved his lips as he reached out to touch my hair, like he could pretend he cared. His fingers brushed my cheek. I wanted to slap them away.

“Baby, how are you feeling?” he murmured. “You’re okay, right? You can’t be hurt, not now… you know our wedding is tomorrow.”

I stared at him, numb.

“Our wedding,” he repeated, like I hadn’t heard him the first time. “And the contract signing with the board. You know we can’t postpone that, Cam. It’s too important. You wouldn’t do that to me, right?”

I forced my lips to move. “Yes. I know.”

He gave me that smug, triumphant smile—like a victor securing his prize.

“Good girl.” He bent down, kissing my forehead like it meant something. “Rest up. We need you at your best tomorrow.” Then he left without another word, his shoes clicking down the corridor.

I drifted in and out of sleep, the hospital monitor beeping steadily. I should’ve felt something—fear, anger, grief. But all I felt was empty. Until my phone lit up on the side table.

A video. Troy and Trevor laughing in the limo, Jasmine draped across Troy’s lap in a dress I bought her, kissing him like I’d never existed. Like the wedding tomorrow was just another excuse for them to finish what they’d started years ago.

The next morning, the nurses fussed over me as they discharged me—bandages fresh, hair combed, makeup just enough to cover the bruises of sleepless nights. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. A ghost in white silk.

At the apartment, everything was chaos. Troy was already half-dressed in his suit, tie loose around his neck, Trevor helping him with his cufflinks. Jasmine floated around them like some pretty parasite, clinging to Trevor’s arm, dropping kisses on Troy’s cheek. I wanted to vomit.

“Oh!” Jasmine exclaimed suddenly, eyes sparkling at the tiny velvet box on my dresser. “Camille, this necklace… it’s beautiful. Can I borrow it?”

I froze. “It’s mine. It’s from my mother. I’m wearing it today.”

Troy clicked his mouth, snatching it up like it belonged to him. “Stop being selfish. She just wants to wear it for the photos. You know how Jasmine is. Be nice to her, yeah? It suits her.”

“It’s my wedding day—” I started, my voice cracking.

“Our wedding,” Troy snapped. He turned, pressing the necklace into Jasmine’s hands. “We will go ahead, so fix yourself.” He shot me a dark look. “Just don’t mess things up today, Cam. After the ceremony, we sign the papers, I get the company, and we’re all done, right? Meet us at the church. Don’t be late.”

He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “And don’t embarrass me.”

Then they were gone—him, Trevor, Jasmine—like my life was a dirty coat they could toss aside when it didn’t fit anymore.

I stood there, alone, staring at the apartment. This place that my father built for me. For my future. Our future, once upon a time.

But now? There was nothing left here for me.

I didn’t waste a second. I went to my room. I packed my passport, the last of my clothes, the only jewelry that was truly mine.

A knock came at the door. My lawyer’s agent, just as promised. He’d brought the movers to clear the rest. The apartment was sold. The deal was done.

I took one last look around, then set a tiny cake on the table. I stabbed a candle into it, lit it, and watched the flame flicker. My goodbye gift. Beside it, I left the engagement ring—cold, metal, empty—and a note in bold marker:

I’m done with you. I’m marrying someone else. Be happy without me. Goodbye, my ex-fiancé.

When I stepped outside, the sun was warm on my face. A black car idled at the curb. Martin leaned against it, arms folded, that infuriating smirk playing at the edge of his lips. My sworn enemy since high school. My accidental savior.

“Ready, runaway bride?” he called.

“More than,” I smiled.

I slipped into the car, slammed the door shut, and watched my past blur in the rearview mirror as we drove to the airport.

Chapter 6

Troy stood at the altar, fingers drumming impatiently on the edge of the marble podium. The grand hall of the church, dripping in white lilies and gold ribbons, felt like a cage closing in on him. Camille was late—thirty minutes late.

He glanced over his shoulder for the hundredth time. The guests were starting to murmur, heads leaned together in polite but curious whispers. Some had their phones out already, slyly snapping pictures of the groom pacing at the altar like a trapped dog.

Trevor lingered at the side, brows furrowed. Even he was starting to look nervous, tapping his foot, shooting Jasmine an accusing glance. Jasmine only gave a thin smile, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she leaned against a pew like she owned the place.

Troy pulled out his phone again, texting Camille for the tenth time.

Where are you? Hurry up.

Answer me.

You know what happens if you humiliate me.

Nothing. No delivered, no seen.

He dialed instead—voice low, teeth clenched as he barked orders to the security guard near the entrance. “Find her. I don’t care how. She can’t be far.”

One of the older guests, Troy’s uncle, leaned forward with a forced chuckle, whispering loudly enough for the people behind him to hear. “Maybe the bride got cold feet, eh? Shouldn’t leave a man like Troy standing alone.”

Trevor shot a glare in their direction, but Troy’s eyes never left the stained glass doors. “She wouldn’t dare,” he growled under his breath, though his gut twisted.

Beside him, Jasmine tapped her painted nails against her wine glass. “Maybe she’s just toying with us,” she said sweetly. “You know, dramatic flair—Camille always liked the attention.”

Troy’s head whipped around, fury flaring behind his eyes. “Toying with us? On our wedding day? Are you insane, Jasmine?”

Jasmine shrugged, pretending innocence. Trevor looked between them, a bead of sweat running down his temple. “She’ll come,” he muttered. “Just wait. She’ll come. She has to.”

But the whispers were turning to gossip. The violinist, seeing no bride, put his bow down. Someone from Troy’s family tugged on his sleeve, asking what they should tell the guests if she didn’t show.

No. She wouldn’t do this. Troy’s mind raced. There was no way Camille would humiliate him like this. Not after everything he’d done for her, not when she still needed him—she needed him.

But the longer he stood there, the more the certainty cracked inside him.

Without a word, he pushed Trevor aside, ignoring Jasmine’s protests as he stormed down the aisle. He didn’t even wait for the driver—he yanked his car keys from his pocket, his footsteps echoing through the hushed church.

He floored it all the way back to the house, heart hammering so loud it drowned out the engine’s roar. She wouldn’t dare. She wouldn’t dare. But in the pit of his gut, he knew—Camille was capable of anything now. That frightened him more than the humiliation.

He slammed through the front door, shouting her name. “Camille! Camille, where on earth are you?!”

Silence. Not even the echo of footsteps.

His voice rose to a snarl. “Camille! Come out, you coward. You think this is funny? You think you can make a fool of me—?”

He stopped short in the living room. His eyes darted around, taking in the emptiness. The shelves were bare of their framed photos. The drawers empty, the suitcases gone. Even the small vase her mother had given her—the one she’d sworn she’d never part with—was missing from its spot.

A piece of paper sat on the kitchen island next to a small cake, its candle already burned down to a stub of wax. He stepped closer, dread pooling cold in his veins.

The ring box sat there too—his grandmother’s ring. The one he’d used to bind her to him all those years ago.

His eyes flicked to the note, scrawled in her unmistakable handwriting:

I’m done with you. I’m marrying someone else. Be happy without me. Goodbye, my ex-fiancé.

The words blurred. He read them again. And again. They didn’t change.

“No…” he whispered, voice trembling. His fingers crushed the paper in his fist. “No. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t—this is a joke.”

He grabbed the cake and hurled it at the wall. The splatter of frosting and crumbs did nothing to silence the screaming in his head. His phone was out before the frosting even hit the floor. He dialed her number. Straight to voicemail. Again. Again.

Finally, he called the lawyer. “Where is she? Where the heck is she?! She’s mine—she can’t do this. She can’t leave me.”

The lawyer’s voice was infuriatingly calm. “Mr. Troy, I’m afraid I can’t disclose anything. You’re not legally bound anymore. You have no authority over Ms. Camille’s affairs.”

Troy’s mouth went dry. “What are you talking about? I’m her guardian. I’m her fiancé! I own her company—”

“About that,” the lawyer interrupted, “you’ve been removed. The company ownership was transferred back to Ms. Camille this morning. You’ve been terminated.”

“That’s impossible—”

“It’s already filed,” the lawyer said flatly. “Good day, Mr. Troy.”

The line went dead.

Troy hurled his phone across the room, where it hit the wall and cracked in half. He stumbled back, struggling like a man drowning. She left. She left me. She left everything.

Footsteps. Trevor and Jasmine came through the front door, breathless.

“What the heck happened to the house?!” Trevor demanded, eyes wide as he took in the barren shelves, the half-packed boxes scattered by the door.

“Where are our things?” Jasmine shrieked, mascara smudged under her eyes. “What did you do, Troy?! Where’s Camille?”

Troy turned on them, eyes wild. “That woman!” he roared. “She left us with nothing. She’s gone! She sold the house—she sold everything—”

He sank to his knees in the middle of the empty living room, fists pounding the floor. “She’s gone,” he whispered, voice ragged. “She’s gone…”