Chapter 1

Year after year, my fiancé, Edward Sutton, put off our wedding just for a sister who wasn't even related to him by blood.

I was being ravaged by a mysterious curse and desperately begged him to marry me sooner.

But he couldn't have cared less and was convinced I couldn't live without him. "You've waited this long, so what's the rush now? If you were truly in a hurry, you wouldn't be dead set on marrying me."

But I couldn't wait any longer.

Later, the wedding day arrived. Dressed in my white gown, I slowly walked toward him.

Our eyes met, and in that moment, I placed my hand in that of another man. The instant I did, his face drained of all color.

*****

Five years ago, Edward promised me that I would be the one and only he'd ever love. Like a complete fool, I swallowed it whole.

That was why I never second-guessed him when he kept putting off our wedding, time after time, all for the sake of Mia.

It wasn't until I saw Mia leaning into his embrace, her laughter absolutely radiant with affection, that the penny finally dropped for me that his love had soured long ago.

Just a few days ago, he told me he was going to marry her instead.

In that instant, I knew this man was rotten to the core.

I told my parents I was calling off the wedding with Edward.

My mother felt my forehead with the back of her hand with a look of complete bewilderment. "You're not even running a fever, so why are you talking such utter nonsense? If you don't marry him, who will you marry?"

My father, pausing only briefly to glance up from his massive pile of documents, chimed in, "What's wrong? Is he still refusing to marry you? You need to take a good hard look at yourself. Is there something you're not doing right?

"He's a man, after all. You just need to butter him up a little.

"If nothing else works, just get pregnant. Once you have his kid—especially the first one—everything will work out."

I clenched my fists and started to speak, a lump in my throat. "You..."

The words were right there, but I stopped myself. Even if I did tell them the truth, they'd just tell me to suck it up and stay with Edward.

Everyone knew that Edward and I were a couple, and I knew him inside and out.

His stomach was sensitive, so I had custom meal plans made for him, and I taught myself to cook every dish just for him.

He liked distinctive clothes, so I taught myself embroidery, stitching his exclusive mark onto the collar of every one of his shirts.

I memorized all of his habits. At the dinner table, when he'd reached his limit for alcohol, he would subtly look over to my glass. Without a word, I'd top up my own glass and take the hit for him, drinking the toast myself.

I always thought it was just a matter of time before we got married.

But I waited for him for almost five years, from the moment I legally reached marriage age at 20 until now.

Every year, my birthday wish was the same. It was that Edward would marry me with pomp and circumstance the following year.

Yet, all my painful, prolonged waiting turned out to be a complete sham.

The only reason he wouldn't marry me was Mia, the foster daughter of the Suttons.

Five years ago, Mia got into a terrible car accident and lost her grip on reality. She kept imagining that Edward was head over heels for her, and I was the one standing in the way of their "true love."

Edward had been the one driving when the crash happened, so he carried a load of guilt toward her and let her twisted feelings grow.

He kept stringing me along without proposing while sweet-talking Mia into cooperating with treatment.

Back then, I had already warned him. When I was born, my grandfather brought in someone—kind of a spiritual advisor—who said I had to get married before 25; otherwise, my life would take a bad turn, and I'd be doomed to die young.

My parents never believed a word of it. They just thought it was a scam for money.

I was the only one who knew it was real. Because when I started dating Edward at 18, I heard this strange voice in my head, calling itself a system. It ordered me to get married before 25, or I'd die a miserable death.

It only spoke that one time, so I brushed it off until last week when I stopped by a church to light a candle.

The priest looked at me from across the room. He gave me a small talisman and told me to be extra careful over the next month.

After I came home, bruises started showing up day after day for an entire week on my body for no reason.

I went to the hospital and ran all the tests, but they found nothing.

That was when the priest's warning finally hit me. From that moment, I lived with a knot in my stomach every single day.

I told Edward everything.

He frowned, his eyes full of contempt. "Sophia, are you that desperate to get married? You'd make up a story like this just to push me?"

After that, the bruises only got worse, and my health went downhill fast.

I caressed the photo of him that was in my purse. He was smiling bright like sunshine.

"Edward," I whispered, "I don't think I can wait forever for you to decide you want to marry me."

I was upset. But before I could even cry, my phone rang. Edward was calling.

"Sophie," he said, "can you make sautéed shrimp for me? I've been craving it."

I forced my tears back down. When I didn't answer, he tested the waters again. "Honey? Honey, I've really been craving it. Please?"

The way he called me "honey" twice made my heart tremble. Maybe I still had feelings for him—I couldn't even tell if he meant it or was just faking it.