After that, he always had some excuse for missing our important dates—anniversaries, celebrations, milestones. There was always something that came up.
At the same time, Piper’s Instagram kept updating—his familiar silhouette in the background, his ringless fingers holding a wine glass, his toned body behind a fogged-up shower door…
Six months ago, we’d signed our marriage certificate. He told me he wanted to give me the perfect wedding.
Now I know… there won’t be a wedding at all.
I picked up the phone and dialed.
“You wanted my shares in Marks Corporation, right?” I said coldly. “I’m signing them over. All of them.”
It was a “gift” he gave me the day he finally won me over—those shares. I told him it was way too much, but he held my hand tight and insisted I sign the papers.
That gentle voice still echoes in my mind like a cruel memory,
“Baby, if you want the stars or the moon, I’ll give them to you. What’s a few shares compared to that?”
I know now—what we had, it was real. But people change. Hearts grow cold. And love? Love is never immortal.
The boy who once held me like I was his whole world—he’s long gone. Swallowed by time.
Just as I ended the call, my phone lit up with a message from Colin.
[Calmed down yet? I’ve arranged the cemetery and paid for the funeral. Satisfied now? Stop testing my patience.]
Another one followed almost instantly:
[Did you not see my message? Get to my office now. Sign the non-prosecution agreement for Piper.]
Something in me finally broke. I called him. My voice was shaking with rage.
“Why the hell should I sign that form for her? And if I say no, what then? You gonna press my bloody finger onto the damn paper?”
###Chapter 3
He hung up. Cold. No hesitation.
Seconds later, he sent a photo.
It was a scanned document. An investment contract signed between my mom and Piper.
Bold letters in the center screamed at me:
Investments carry risk. All losses due to personal judgment errors are the client’s own responsibility.
My mother’s signature and fingerprint sat neatly at the bottom.
He’d been preparing for this. His legal team—massive, ruthless—ready to crush me like I was nothing.
Still, I went to the Marks Corp building.
In the elevator, I ran into Piper.
She was wearing a custom Chanel gown, carrying a handbag worth more than most people’s cars and of course—the princess bracelet shimmered on her wrist.