---- Chapter 2 Elaina Higgins POV: The ghost of my father' s abandonment had haunted me for twenty years. He didn' t just leave my mother and me; he vanished, erasing himself from our lives as if we were a mistake he was correcting. My mother, a woman of incredible strength, withered under the weight of his departure. She passed away when | was nineteen, leaving me with a trust fund, the apartment in Portland, and a deep, abiding fear of being left behind. The only tangible piece of her | had left was her wedding dress. A beautiful, handmade lace gown she had designed herself. "One day, my darling," she'd whispered, her voice weak but full of love, "you will wear this, and you will marry a man who deserves every ounce of your beautiful heart." Derek Gomez found me when my heart was still a fortress of grief and suspicion. He was relentless. For six years, he pursued me with a single-minded devotion that slowly chipped away at my defenses. He learned my coffee order, remembered the names of my favorite artists, and sat with me through long, silent nights when the grief was too heavy to bear. | remember the day | finally told him about my father. We were ---- sitting on a park bench, the autumn leaves falling around us like golden tears. | laid bare my deepest fear, the ugly, terrified part of me that believed everyone | loved would eventually leave. He took my hands, his own warm and steady, and looked directly into my eyes. His voice was thick with emotion. "Elaina, | swear to you, on my life, | will never be that man. | will never leave you. | will spend the rest of my life proving that you are the only one | will ever want." That was the moment | let him in. That was the moment | started to believe in a future. Now, his words echoed in the hollow cavern of my chest, a cruel mockery of the promises | had clung to. He hadn't just used my trauma as an excuse; he had weaponized it. The very vulnerability he swore to protect was now the justification for his betrayal. His claim that | was "predictable" and "sad" sliced deeper than any physical wound could. Every word | had overheard was a poisoned dart, lodging itself in my soul Just this morning, he had kissed me goodbye, his lips warm against mine, and whispered, "Counting down the seconds until you're my wife." He was a phenomenal actor. The realization was chilling. The man | was set to marry was a stranger, a master of deceit hiding behind a mask of devotion. Fine. Two could play at that game. ---- After booking my flight, my phone buzzed incessantly. A dozen texts from Derek, each one more frantic than the last. Where are you? | came out and you were gone. Baby, is everything okay? Call me. Elaina, you' re scaring me. Please. | shut the phone off and shoved it into my purse. | couldn't go back to that house, not yet. | walked aimlessly through the city streets, the setting sun painting the sky in shades of bruised purple and orange. | was so lost in my own storm of pain that | didn't see the cyclist until he was nearly on top of me. He swerved, shouting something | didn't register. | stumbled back, my ankle twisting, and fell hard onto the pavement. A sharp pain shot up my leg. Before | could even process what happened, a car screeched to a halt beside me. The door flew open and Derek was there, his face a mask of terror. "Elaina! Oh my God, are you alright?" He knelt beside me, his hands hovering over me as if he were afraid to touch me. He helped me sit up, his touch surprisingly gentle. "What were you thinking, walking into the street like that?" | stared at him, my mind a maelstrom of confusion and disgust. He looked so genuinely worried. The concern in his eyes was the same look he' d given me for ten years. For a ---- dizzying moment, | almost believed it was real. | almost believed | had imagined the conversation, the blonde hair, the betrayal. |... |wasn't paying attention," | stammered, the lie tasting like ash on my tongue. He helped me to my feet, his arm securely around my waist. "You've been acting strange all day. What's wrong, baby? You can tell me anything." He looked into my eyes, and for a split second, | saw the man | fell in love with. The man who wooed me with his persistence, who made me believe in loyalty again. The man who once drove three hours in a snowstorm just to bring me a specific brand of soup when | was sick. How could that man and the monster from the study be the same person? His concern felt like another layer of his elaborate performance, a finely crafted illusion. | was just another project, another acquisition. "I'm just stressed," | said, my voice flat. "The wedding." Relief washed over his features, so palpable it was sickening. "Of course. | get it. Don't worry about a thing. I'll take care of everything." He squeezed me tighter, his voice a low, soothing murmur. "I love you so much, Elaina. Don't you ever forget that." He guided me back to our apartment, his touch tender, his words a balm on a wound he himself had inflicted. He drew a ---- warm bath for me, ordering my favorite takeout without me even having to ask. As | soaked in the tub, trying to soothe the throbbing in my ankle and the raging inferno in my heart, | felt a tear finally escape and trace a hot path down my cheek. He was so good at this. So perfect. It would have been so easy to believe him, to dismiss my fears and fall back into the comfortable lie of our life together. But | couldn't. | wouldn't. Later, as he was fussing over me on the couch, his phone lit up on the coffee table. A text message. | saw the preview for a fraction of a second before he snatched it up. It was a photo of a woman in lingerie-Cory Pennington-with the caption: Missing you. His eyes, when they flicked up to meet mine, held a flicker of something | hadn't seen before. A flash of raw, undisguised lust. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his signature loving gaze. "Urgent work thing," he said, his voice smooth as silk as he stood up. "A server crashed. | have to go deal with it. I'll be back as soon as | can, | promise." He leaned down to kiss me, but | turned my head so his lips met my cheek. He paused for a moment, then straightened up and left without another word. The moment the door clicked shut, a violent wave of nausea ---- overwhelmed me. | barely made it to the bathroom before | was sick, my body convulsing as | emptied the contents of my stomach, and my heart, into the cold, white porcelain.