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In Dublin, I’m known as the girl you can always count on. So reliable that my fiancé, Ezekiel, left me at the altar 98 times, and each time, I forgave him. But on our 99th attempt, things took a turn. Someone anonymously gifted us a hundred thousand pounds. Instead of our wedding photos, the screen flashed images of Ramona being auctioned off for her first night—at the same price. Tears streamed down her face, as if she were saying goodbye to life itself. 'If I can’t be your wife, Ezekiel, then holding onto my purity is pointless,' she whispered. 'Just promise you’ll never forget me.' Without hesitation, Ezekiel tossed our wedding ring aside and bolted. The crowd murmured, knowing how much I