I went to the hospital to get my wound bandaged, then headed straight back to Delgado Corp to wrap up my work.

Back at the office, I posted on social media that the wedding was canceled.

The well-meaning advice came almost immediately:

"Girl, are you crazy? He's about to be the CEO of a publicly traded company! You stuck it out this long, and now you're throwing it away right before the payoff? Why?"

"A catch like that, and women are lining up to throw themselves at him. And here you are, handing him over on a silver platter!"

I didn't reply.

Soon enough, he wouldn't be any of those things.

I was sorting through files when a friend request from Vivian popped up on my phone.

The moment I accepted, a photo of a marriage certificate came through.

"Someone really does love me to death! After that little scene today, he took me straight to get our certificate just to make me feel better!"

In the photo, the two of them were beaming, faces pressed together. It burned behind my eyes like staring into the sun.

I turned off my phone.

Six years with Stewart. To protect his pride, I hid who I was. I lived with him in a run-down studio apartment, survived on dry bread.

I even went through five abortions in those six years.

All because he said he wanted to wait for the right moment to give me and our children a stable, happy home.

In the end, he kept that promise for someone else.

I finished copying my files, then got up to make coffee in the break room.

I stopped in the doorway.

A few coworkers were huddled at the counter, whispering.

"Did you hear? The bride isn't Leonora. It's his childhood sweetheart."

"Apparently this Vivian girl is the one he's been hung up on for years. I saw her in the office once. Way prettier than Leonora. No wonder he could never let go."

"Ha! Leonora spent all those years chasing him, and she ended up with nothing. That's hilarious."

Every word sliced into me like a blade.

I pretended I hadn't heard a thing and walked straight back to my office.

Then I began placing my belongings into a box, one by one.

These same employees used to call me "sis" to my face.

Now that they knew I wasn't the bride, I'd already been downgraded to the desperate ex who couldn't take a hint.

The door slammed open without warning.

Stewart stormed in, swept my box off the desk with one arm, and sent everything crashing to the floor. His face was white-hot with rage.