---- Chapter 9 Julian burst into the emergency room carrying Estelle, shouting for a doctor. His dramatic entrance, the frantic billionaire in a tuxedo with a damsel in distress, immediately drew a crowd of onlookers with camera phones. The press, already gathered for the wedding of the century, had a new, much juicier story. Julian was oblivious to the commotion. His world had narrowed to Estelle' s pale, pained face. A doctor quickly diagnosed her with acute appendicitis. "She needs surgery. Immediately." + Estelle clung to Julian' s hand, her eyes wide with fear. "I'm scared, Julian. Don't leave me." "| won't," he promised, his voice soft. "I'll be right here when you wake up." He convinced the staff to let him wait just outside the operating room doors. He sent a quick text to Ember: "Stel needs emergency surgery. This is serious. Will be at the church as soon as she's stable." He shoved his phone back in his pocket without noticing the small red notification that popped up beneath his message: Message Not Delivered. ---- While Julian was sequestered in the hospital, the video of Ember being left on the highway went viral. # CopelandColdFeet was trending worldwide. Public opinion was swift and brutal. Julian was a monster. Ember was a saint. He knew none of this. Inside his self-imposed bubble of concern for Estelle, he drifted into a light, exhausted sleep in the uncomfortable waiting room chair. His mind took him back to the darkness. The four years of his coma. It wasn't a peaceful sleep. It was a terrifying, lonely void. A prison of silence and shadows. But there had been a voice. A constant, gentle presence. Ember. He remembered the feel of her hand in his, the sound of her reading to him for hours, the scent of her perfume, a mix of lavender and turpentine from her art studio. She told him about her day, about the world outside, about how much she missed him. Her voice was his only lifeline, the one thing that kept him from being completely lost. He remembered the fire. Not the details, but the feeling of being pulled, of a smaller, determined body shielding his from the worst of the heat. He remembered her screams of pain, a sound that haunted the edges of his consciousness. He remembered waking up. The first thing he saw was her face, tired and scarred, but more beautiful to him in that moment than anything he had ever seen. Her eyes were full of ---- a love so pure, so absolute, it had overwhelmed him. In his dream, he was back in the darkness, and her voice was fading. He reached out for it, for her, a desperate, silent scream tearing through him. Ember, don't go! He woke with a jolt, his heart pounding. He looked at his watch. Three hours had passed. The surgery was over. He had to get to Ember. He had to get to the church. He stood up, his legs stiff, and walked out of the surgical wing. He was immediately ambushed by a mob of reporters, their cameras flashing like strobe lights, their questions a barrage of noise "Mr. Copeland, is it true you abandoned your bride on the highway?" "Is your relationship with Estelle Murphy the reason the wedding is off?" He stopped, his face going cold and hard. He held up a hand for silence. "My fiancée, Ember Tucker, is the only woman | will ever marry," he said, his voice ringing with authority. "There was a medical emergency. The wedding will proceed as soon as | get there. Now, if you'll excuse me." He pushed through the crowd, a sudden, inexplicable panic clawing at his throat. He had to see her. He had to explain. ---- She would understand. She always understood. He pulled out his phone to call her. No answer. He tried again. Straight to voicemail. A cold dread began to seep into his bones: Then he saw it. The "Message Not Delivered" notification under the text he'd sent hours ago. His phone nearly slipped from his trembling hand She didn't know. She thought he'd just left her. He broke into a run, shoving people out of his way, his mind a chaotic mess of fear and regret. He jumped into his car, tires screeching as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. He ran every red light, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, his world narrowing to a single, desperate need: get to Ember. He burst into the wedding venue, a magnificent old church, and ran straight to the bridal suite. "Ember!" he shouted, throwing open the door. The room was empty. Her wedding dress was laid out on the bed, a pristine, ghostly white. A pair of diamond earrings he' d given her sat on the vanity. Everything was ready. But she was gone. "Ember?" he called again, his voice cracking. A wedding coordinator appeared in the doorway, her face pale. ---- "Mr. Copeland... |... 'm so sorry." "Where is she?" he demanded, grabbing the woman by the shoulders. "Where is my fiancée?" "The wedding was canceled, sir," the coordinator whispered, trembling. "Two hours ago. All the guests have gone home." The words hit him like a physical blow. He staggered back, his mind refusing to process what he was hearing. "Canceled? No. That's not possible. She wouldn't... Ember wouldn't do that." "Who canceled it?" he roared, his eyes wild and red-rimmed. "Who gave the order?" Just then, his father appeared in the doorway. "Ember did," Carlo said, his voice flat. Julian's world tilted on its axis. He stared at his father, his mind a blank slate of shock and disbelief. "No," he whispered. "No, she loves me. She would never leave me. He started to search the church, calling her name, his voice growing more and more frantic. He looked under tables, behind pillars, his actions becoming more and more irrational. The terrible thought he'd been suppressing, the one he'd refused to acknowledge, was now a roaring monster in his mind. She was gone. She had really left him.