"Where did you go? Didn't we agree that once everything was over, we'd remarry?"

Daniel's voice cracks. Just like that. Like he's the one who's been wronged here, when he sees you—standing there in that stunning emerald gown, your hand intertwined with someone else's. Someone who isn't him.

The woman on his arm—Amelia, the one who destroyed everything—shifts uncomfortably. She's beautiful, you'll give her that. The kind of beautiful that makes men stupid.

Money has a way of polishing people. Your new husband made sure of that. Made sure you had the best of everything—clothes, jewelry, care. The kind of care Daniel promised but never delivered.

The man beside you steps forward. Tall, imposing, with eyes that could cut glass. Marcus Whitmore—heir to the Whitmore empire, the kind of wealth that makes Daniel's company look like pocket change. His hand finds the small of your back, protective.

"Stay away from my wife" Marcus says, his voice a low rumble that makes nearby guests turn their heads. "If you dare bother my wife again, be careful—your company might just go bankrupt tomorrow."

It's not an empty threat. Everyone in this room knows it. Daniel's face goes white. Then red. Then white again.

"You don't understand" he's practically pleading now, ignoring the woman clinging to his arm like a lifeline. "I had to. I owed her. She saved my life, I couldn't just—"

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again like a fish gasping for air.

He recalled. This. He means the charade with Amelia. The public repayment of a debt. It was all a game, a performance to appease her fragile heart. He’d explained it to you so clearly, his voice patient and low as you lay in that hospital bed, pale and empty.

You’d stared at the ceiling then, silent. He mistook your silence for acceptance. For understanding. He remembers the rhythmic beep of the machine monitoring the heart he knew was so fragile. He remembers leaning over you, his words a desperate balm on a wound he’d just inflicted.

"It's fake, baby. Just for a little while" he’d whispered, stroking your hair. "She’s unstable. Amelia thinks you hurt her. If I do this, if I just play along, she’ll feel secure and then she’ll leave us alone. I owe her, you know I do."

"The divorce is just paper" he'd insisted. "And the baby…God, you know I didn't want this. But she was unhappy. It was making her sick to see you pregnant with my child. This is the only way. Once she’s calm, once everything is over, I’ll marry you again. I swear it. You’re the only one I’ve ever loved. You have to understand."

His words were so soft, like he dragged you to an abortion just because Amelia said you pushed her down, and then she didn't like that you were pregnant, that's not what he did.

You not answered. A few days later, you were gone. Vanished. He’d torn the city apart looking for you, a quiet, simmering rage building in his chest, he’d had his men searching for a year, but there is no trace of you. How could you break your promise? How could you not wait for him?

Marcus's grip on you tightens. Not painful, just...anchoring. Reminding you that you're not alone anymore. That you're not that desperate woman begging for scraps of affection from a man who chose his savior complex over his family.

"She disappeared because she's smart" Marcus says. His voice is conversational, but there's steel underneath.

The ballroom seems to hold its breath. Even the orchestra has stopped playing.

His fiancée is pulling at him now, harder, her face flushed with embarrassment. This wasn't how she imagined her grand debut would go.

"Come on" Amelia hisses. "You're making a fool of yourself."

But Daniel doesn't move. Can't move. He's staring at you like you're a ghost—the ghost of the woman who loved him.

"We're done here." Marcus's voice cuts through the tension. "And if I see you near her again—if you so much as breathe in her direction, I'll destroy everything you've ever worked for. Your company. Your reputation. Your future with her." His gaze flicks to Amelia with undisguised contempt. "All of it."