Chapter 1
There’s a kind of quiet that follows betrayal. It’s not the peaceful kind—the one you get after closure or forgiveness or anything remotely sane. No, this is the kind that screams behind your ears. That beats in your chest like a fist trying to get out.
It had been twelve hours since the message.
Twelve hours since my almost-husband, Hollywood’s brooding darling with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and apparently my heart, too—sent a text instead of showing up.
A text.
“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
No punctuation. No explanation. Just cruelty in 9 words and a notification ding that sounded like a gunshot in my purse.
The suite was still decorated. Flowers. Ribbons. Shoes strewn like afterthoughts. My veil lay limp on the back of a chair like it had fainted. Someone had brought me tea, as if caffeine could patch up abandonment. I hadn’t touched it.
Dani sat at the edge of my bed, still in her black silk pajamas, holding my hand like it might fall off. I wasn’t crying. That scared her more.
“Say something,” she whispered.
“I think I forgot how to speak,” I said. My voice came out paper-thin.
Theo stood by the window, arms crossed, jaw locked. He had that look on his face—the one that said he wanted to break someone, preferably Knox, but had too much PR training to do it legally.
“He didn’t even have the f**king decency to show up,” he muttered, like saying it out loud might make it more understandable.
It didn’t.
I finally moved. Just a twitch. Just enough to feel the weight of the ring still sitting on my finger. It felt heavier now, like a stone tied to my heart.
“I’m going to kill him,” Dani said, too calmly. “I’m going to strangle him with one of your custom napkins. They had your initials embroidered on them, Scarlett. For nothing."
I almost smiled. Almost.
Instead, I looked at her. “What do I do now?”
She blinked. “You live, babe. But first—vacate this emotional war zone.”
“You want me to leave?”
“I want you to heal. Which requires a change of scenery, ideally one without paparazzi or cake vendors still calling you for refunds.”
I stared at her.
She knelt in front of me. “Scar, you’re in shock. Your publicist is practically convulsing in the hallway. The tabloids are already rolling. Give me three days—I’ll bury this story so deep they’ll be covering someone else’s breakdown by brunch tomorrow.”
“She’s right,” Theo added, turning to face me. “You don’t owe anyone a performance right now. Let the city spin its drama without you.”
I took a breath.
Then another.
Then I asked the most dangerous question: “Where should I go?”
An hour later, I was packing.
Correction: Dani was packing. I just sat there, in sweats, watching her throw sundresses and sunglasses into a suitcase like we were running from the law.
“Anywhere specific?” I asked.
“Someplace quiet. With a view. Maybe Greece. Or Morocco. Or a cabin in Norway. Hell, I’ll book you all three and let you eenie-meenie-minie your trauma escape route.”
“I don’t even have a toothbrush in there,” I said, nodding toward the suitcase.
She grinned. “Buy one with your single-girl-international-soul-searching credit card.”
My phone buzzed.
I didn’t look.
We both knew it was him.
For a second, I thought I’d pick it up. Just to read. Just to understand why he’d walked away from us without the courage to face me.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I got up.
Slipped on my coat.
Walked down to the dock behind the house where the wedding was supposed to be.
The sky was bruised pink, the sun bleeding into the horizon. It looked almost apologetic, like it knew I’d dressed for joy and got abandonment instead.
I stood at the edge, water lapping quietly at the wooden beams below.
Pulled off the ring.
It didn’t resist.
It just... slid off.
This symbol of forever that barely lasted through rehearsals. This shiny lie he gave me with those stupid eyes that made me believe he was different.
I held it between my fingers, watching it glint in the soft light. My whole life, I’d seen this moment in reverse—women clutching rings, sobbing, begging. I didn’t beg.
I whispered, “You don’t get to keep this part of me.”
Then I tossed it.
The splash was small.
Unimpressive.
Almost... comical.
A $300,000 ring swallowed in less than a second.
Good.
Let the ocean have it. Maybe it would do something more honest with it than he did.
I stood there a little longer, letting the wind whip against my skin, letting my fingers remember the absence of the weight. It felt… cleaner. Like I’d been holding a secret I didn’t know I hated.
Then I turned.
Back to the house.
Back to Dani’s wide eyes and packed bags.
And soon, back to the airport where no one knew my name, or my heartbreak, or that I was supposed to be someone’s wife today.
No one would recognize me.
I was glad.
Because maybe—just maybe—on the other side of the world, I’d recognize myself again.
