Chapter 1

For the third time, Alex Carter didn't show up to get our marriage license.

That's when it hit me: this wedding probably wasn't going to happen.

Honestly, that was fine by me.

I'd inherited my biological father's fortune.

I wasn't desperate to get married anymore.

*****

When Alex called me from the civil affairs office, I was a little excited. "I've already got our number. Where are you?"

But his voice was hesitant. "Emily Lane, my boss told me I have to go on a business trip today. Can we get the license another day?"

My excitement fizzled out in an instant.

But this time, I didn't ask what was wrong like I used to.

Instead, he sounded anxious, rushing to explain, "There's a problem with the case over there. I can't put it off. Emily, I'm sorry. It's really bad timing..."

I cut him off. "It's fine. Go pack up and be careful on the road. We can get the license whenever."

I hung up.

Then it hit me.

Maybe all those delays weren't coincidences. Maybe he was avoiding it.

Alex probably didn't want to marry me.

Strangely, I actually let out a sigh of relief.

It was like a weight had finally been lifted off my shoulders.

Not getting married, honestly, that was fine by me.

I first met Alex during a criminal case. I was the forensic doctor, and he was the defense attorney.

After the case ended, we were on pretty friendly terms, and he invited me to go cycling with him during the May Day holiday.

That brutal murder case had me stressed out, so I figured why not. I didn't say no.

He was five years younger than me.

Young, full of energy, and honestly, pretty great.

But I never thought anything would come of it.

Every time Alex brought up making things official, I resisted.

I wanted a stable relationship, with marriage as the goal, and honestly, he wasn't the type I could see myself marrying.

But his persistence and enthusiasm eventually made me give in.

'Alright, let's see how it goes,' I thought.

I set a three-year limit for myself: marriage or break up.

Those three years were pretty great.

We clicked, both in bed and out.

I was the one who popped the question, and I did it on his twenty-fifth birthday.

After he blew out the candles, I brought out the gift I'd been saving: a pair of diamond rings, and said, "Alex, let's get married."

For a moment, his face went blank.

Then he broke into a big grin, showing off those perfect teeth. "Yes. This is my favorite birthday present ever."

We agreed to get our marriage license first thing Monday morning.

I got up early and, for once, went all out with my makeup.

But by the time I was ready, he still hadn't come out of the bathroom.

He was still holed up in the bathroom, not coming out.

His voice was weak when he called out, "Emily, I think I ate something bad."

I didn't even care that my bag had spilled open and all my documents were scattered on the floor.

I rushed over, asking if he was okay and if we needed to go to the hospital.

Needless to say, we never made it to the civil affairs office.

A few days later, he was back to his usual energetic self.

After a passionate night together, I brought it up again. "Let's get our marriage license tomorrow. I'm going on a business trip next week, and it might be a while."

He stroked my hair and said, "Okay."

His voice was full of satisfaction.

As I was drifting off, I heard a teasing laugh. "Emily, are you that desperate to get married?"

It felt like a needle pricked my heart.

A sharp, fleeting pain shot through me.

Maybe I was a little desperate to get married.

I grew up in a single-parent household.

My mom was a police officer.

My dad, on the other hand, was a criminal.

My mom went undercover for three years, used herself as bait, and ended up putting my dad behind bars herself.