Chapter 1
"Honey, calm down. Maren had a panic about her business. I was just comforting her."
"Comforting her? With your shirt unbuttoned, Rhys?" Elara’s voice went serious.
Three minutes before the wedding toast, the silver cake knife still clutched in Elara’s hand.
Her fiancé, Rhys Voss, his hands were wrapped in the blonde curls of Maren Rainer.
Maren was Elara’s maid of honor, her business partner, and her best friend since kindergarten.
Rhys noticed the knife. He jerked back, adjusting his collar.
Maren let out a soft sob, covering her face.
"Elara, we just didn't want you to worry about the business on your big day."
Elara didn't hear them. Her eyes locked on Maren’s left hand.
A vintage sapphire ring glittered on her finger.
And it belonged to Elara’s dead mother.
"Take off my mother's ring," Elara said.
"Your father said she could wear it for the photos," a cold voice cut in.
Seren Voss, Rhys’s wealthy mother, stepped into the suite.
Behind her was Kian Cross—Elara’s stepfather.
Kian looked at the floor, sighing with heavy helplessness.
"Don't embarrass us, Elara," Kian said, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"You're exhausted. Rhys and Maren are only trying to save your business."
Rhys stepped closer, his voice dripping with gentle warmth.
"I love you, Elara. My mother’s firm is clearing your debt. It was supposed to be a wedding surprise."
Elara looked from Rhys’s soft smile to Maren’s tear-stained face, then to her stepfather’s tragic sigh.
She walked straight up to Maren, gripped her wrist with an a firm grip, and violently wrenched the sapphire ring off her finger.
Maren shrieked.
Rhys lunged forward, grabbing Elara’s shoulder and pinning her against the dresser.
"Don't overplay your hand, Elara!"
"Let go of me!"
Elara didn't hesitate. She drove the cake knife straight into Rhys’s ribs.
Rhys stumbled back and stared at his bloody fingers, his face twisting into a mix of shock and fury.
"You psycho," he hissed, cursing under his breath.
Kian's face darkened. "Walk out that door, Elara, and I will tell the court you are mentally unfit to run your mother's estate."
Elara backed away toward the door. "Then so be it. I'm done letting you control my life."
She turned and ran.
In the pouring rain, she had no purse, no phone, and no family.
The heavy train of her wedding dress dragged through the dark alleys, soaking up grease and mud.
A single flickered streetlamp overhead cast a cold, lonely light.
Elara tilted her head back, letting the heavy, freezing downpour hit her face.
She stared directly up at the solitary light, her hand clenching her mother's sapphire ring.
"Mom... what do I do now? I can't do this without you."
No answer came. Only the freezing wind.
Thunder cracked overhead. Elara stumbled toward the edge of the industrial district.
Suddenly, a man stood beneath the garage lights.
The man stopped working the moment Elara stumbled into his bay.
His eyes tracked her ruined dress, and the dark red grip marks on her arms.
"Sit down before you fall, lady," he said gently.
Elara tried to speak. But her knees gave out first.
Then a pair of massive, calloused hands caught her.