Chapter 1

My fiancé's childhood sweetheart was getting married, and somehow, he seemed to care more about her wedding than ours.

On the day we were supposed to get engaged, he ditched me—his bride-to-be—to help direct traffic for her ceremony.

Later, while I was on my way to the hospital for a prenatal check, he left me stranded on the highway just so he could witness her happiness.

When he saw her throw herself into another man's arms, he drank himself into oblivion.

As I bled helplessly on the roadside, I called him ninety-nine times. He never answered.

I survived—but only barely. That day, something inside me died.

Two years later, on my wedding day, he showed up uninvited, eyes red with rage. "Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you? I never agreed to break up!"

I smiled, calm and distant. "Sorry," I said softly, "I'm already married. And pregnant."

*****

Cars rushed past on the highway, and my fiance, Ryan Carter, pulled over onto the shoulder with a dangerous look in his eyes.

He glared at me hard and slammed his fist against the steering wheel, his voice dropping to a harsh growl.

"Sophie and I grew up together—she sees me like a brother! Can you stop being so damn petty? A wedding is a huge deal, and how would it look if I didn't show up?"

Ryan sounded so convinced, so righteous, as if I were the one being completely unreasonable.

I stared at him in a daze, taking in that hostile edge to his expression.

I couldn't find any trace of the man I'd once loved anymore.

We'd agreed he'd come with me to my prenatal checkup today, but the moment Sophie Langley called, everything changed. His whole attitude flipped in an instant.

Maybe he thought I'd never actually leave him, no matter what he did.

My eyes burned with tears, and I tried to keep my voice steady, but it came out choked anyway.

I asked, "Ryan, you're leaving me stranded on the highway—aren't you worried something might happen to me? Wasn't abandoning me at the wedding once enough?"

But Ryan didn't feel even a shred of sympathy. Instead, he jabbed his finger toward my face and snapped, "Emma Brooks, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

"You gonna drag up old shit to threaten me now? I'm a cop—I was just there to help direct traffic that day! What the hell did I do wrong?"

He threw his door open and stormed around to the passenger side, yanking my door open so fast he didn't even think to unbuckle my seatbelt first. He grabbed my arm and tried to haul me out.

In the chaos, my stomach slammed hard against the edge of the door, and a sharp, sudden pain ripped through me. I cried out.

Panic flashed through Ryan's eyes, and then he saw it—the car seat soaked with my water breaking.

We'd been together for eight years, and I knew Ryan better than anyone. He was a total germaphobe, and he especially hated when people messed up his car.

Sure enough, when he saw my water had broken, his first reaction was that I'd deliberately pissed myself to get back at him.

Ryan's fury exploded, and he slapped me hard across the face. "Emma, you make me sick. How am I supposed to pick up Sophie now?"

He unbuckled the passenger seatbelt and grabbed my hair, throwing me out onto the ground. He didn't even look at me again before turning back to the car, ready to drive off.

My survival instinct kicked in, and I grabbed the edge of his jacket, begging him through the pain. "Ryan, it hurts so bad. Please, just take me to the hospital first. I think I'm having a miscarriage."

Ryan pried my fingers off one by one, and his words dripped with venom." Stop playing the victim. You're not even bleeding—how could you be having a miscarriage?"

I staggered, trying to stand, but the sharp pain in my abdomen made it impossible to straighten up.

I looked at Ryan's furious face, and through the pain, my eyes went cold and empty. "Tell them congratulations from me."

Ryan's expression softened slightly, looking a bit uncomfortable. He glanced down at my soaked pants. "Consider this your punishment. There are plenty of cars on this road—someone will pick you up. If not, just call me and I'll have a colleague come get you."

I didn't answer him. I just stood there, staring at his taillights as they disappeared into the distance. Eight years together, and just like that, I let it all go.

A sudden, sharp pain tore through me and snapped me back to reality.

I looked down and saw blood everywhere.

The pain was so intense that my hands wouldn't stop shaking as I tried to make a call. I dialed Ryan's number.

Cars kept passing by on the street, but no one stopped for me. No one wanted to get involved.

All the call went straight to voicemail every time. His phone had died, and I never got through to him.

Our chat was flooded with my desperate messages begging for help, but he hadn't responded to a single one.

Right before everything went dark, something made me open Sophie's Instagram.

She posted: [Getting married today! Ryan's leading the motorcycle procession for me. I'm so happy.]

I should've known. Just like on their wedding day, whenever Sophie was involved, Ryan vanished from my world completely.

I was never the one he'd choose.