Chapter 3

The night before the wedding.

Adrian drove me to the bride's suite on the top floor of the luxury hotel in the city center himself.

According to his rules, the bride and groom must be apart the night before the wedding to maintain the sanctity of meeting at the altar the next day.

He stopped at the entrance of the suite and did not go any further inside.

He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, his fingers tracing my cheek with a lingering, possessive touch.

"Get some good rest tonight." His voice was filled with unrestrained expectation and deep affection, "Tomorrow, I will wait for you at the altar."

I nodded obediently, just like I had every day for the past five years.

With a soft "click," the door closed.

The warmth he left behind faded from my skin in an instant. I did not cry, nor did I sit in a daze. Instead, I turned and walked into the bedroom.

With my flight at 1:10 A.M. tomorrow, I still had four hours left.

I pulled out the dusty little suitcase from under the bed and began to pack.

The suite's walk-in closet was filled with high-end custom gowns that Adrian had sent over in advance, as well as priceless jewelry. In the center of the room, on a mannequin, sat the beautiful wedding dress, covered in tiny diamonds and sewn by hand by Parisian craftsmen.

I didn't take any of it.

I didn't take a single piece of clothing he bought me, not a penny from our joint account, and not any of the aura that belonged to "Adrian's fiancée."

I only took my passport, the USB drive containing the copy of my father’s recording, and the old mobile phone that Miles had dropped.

Finally, from the deepest corner of the suitcase, I dug out an old, faded jacket—the one I wore five years ago when my entire family kicked me out and I was left with nowhere to go in the pouring rain.

I put it on.

Before leaving, I opened my laptop and sent an email to my sister Rebecca using a newly registered, secret email address.

I did not accuse Adrian of his crimes, nor did I ask her for help. I only typed three short sentences:

"I found your letters."

"Adrian kept them from me.

"Tomorrow, after the wedding begins, go to the lakeside villa and take back everything the Hartwells sent. Do not look for me."

This was not a cry for help. For the first time in five years, this was me proactively and clearly reconnecting a relationship that Adrian had cruelly severed, and I was the one setting the boundaries.

After closing the laptop, I walked back to the large bed covered in rose petals.

I slowly took off the heavy diamond engagement ring on my ring finger and placed it squarely on top of Miles’s old, cracked phone.

I didn't write a long, elaborate accusation, and I didn't leave hysterical questions. I just left one sentence on a piece of hotel stationery, pressing it down under the ring:

You were never the only person who loved me.

You were only the man who made sure I never heard the others.

After doing all this, I turned off my own phone and pulled out the SIM card.

I picked up the light little suitcase, took one last look at this magnificent cage that had trapped me for five years, and turned to walk into the night without any hesitation.

In the taxi heading to the airport, I connected to the in-car Wi-Fi.

Messages from Adrian immediately popped up on the screen, accompanied by several photos of the beautifully decorated wedding venue:

"The chapel is ready."

I looked at the city nightscape flying backward outside the window and did not reply.

Twenty minutes later, the phone screen lit up again:

"Tomorrow, you will finally be mine forever."

Looking at this sentence, I could almost see the confident and gentle smile at the corners of his mouth as he typed it.

I snapped the SIM card that had accompanied me for five years in two and tossed it into the trash can.

I turned off the phone and walked into the boarding gate.