The day I took my life.
When my body plummeted from the heights and splattered on the pavement at the feet of my fiancé, Alexander Vance, I thought he wouldn’t care.
Because on the surface, he had that woman imprisoned, ranting daily about making her pay.
But behind the scenes? He’d already brought her close.
Made her his personal assistant. His nightly companion in bed.
He fell in love with Scarlett Rossi – the woman who crashed into me, leaving me a paraplegic, paralyzed from the waist down.
The first time, he waved a knife, swearing he’d chop off her hands that gripped the steering wheel to avenge me. Yet secretly, his tongue nearly melted her.
The second time, he brought bottles of liquor, threatening to crack them over her head to teach her a lesson. But in the end, he poured every drop down Scarlett’s throat.
The third time, he rallied his buddies, promising each would take a whip to her for justice. Instead, they circled Scarlett, calling her “Mrs. Vance.”
Wedding dresses tried on, one after another.
Marriage license queue tickets collected, over and over.
On the 101st attempt, I gave up.
Sincerely wished them–the scumbag and the bitch–locked together forever.
I tugged at Alexander Vance’s sleeve for the third time before he snapped back to reality.
First, a blank stare. Then, his unfocused eyes crinkled into a practiced smile. “All picked out? Then wrap up all the jewelry…”
He planted a perfunctory kiss on my lips.
Smiling, he handed the sales consultant a platinum credit card, instructing her to box up everything I’d tried on.
The staff buzzed with envy. “Oh, Miss Grant, you’re so lucky! Mr. Vance adores you…”
Lucky?
B
Chapter 1
Maybe.
If their eyes were sharper, they’d see how hollow that smile was.
Watching Alex’s gaze dart repeatedly to his phone, I forced a smile. “Maybe you should head to the office?”
His tightly drawn brows instantly relaxed. He kissed the corner of my mouth like a reward.
“I’ll pick you up later…” He tossed over his shoulder, already turning away.
His retreating back radiated an urgency he couldn’t contain.
I counted silently in my head.
1
2
3
Sure enough, my phone buzzed. His message flashed on the screen:
Evelyn, tonight’s the night we deal with her. Get yourself home.
A bitter laugh escaped me.
He’d forgotten. I had no legs. I couldn’t just “get myself home.”
He’d also forgotten the 99 times he’d stood me up for Scarlett Rossi.
Scarlett had warned me: “You think you’ll marry him? See if I allow it.”
I’d found it utterly absurd back then.
How could the woman who nearly killed me forbid my fiancé of eight years from marrying me?
But later, I understood.
In this grand performance of love, I was the punchline.
Swallowing the ache, I stared at my screen.
Scarlett’s Instagram updated. Again.
A photo of two hands clasped, one large, one small. Accompanied by a crude caption: “Another night paying my debts… in
flesh!”
A nine–picture grid filled with images of them looking picture–perfect in evening wear.
15.8%
Chapter 1
A mutual friend commented: “Isn’t that the woman who hit Evelyn, leaving her paralyzed? How are you two… together?”
Alex, ever her white knight, jumped in instantly:
“Exactly! To punish her daily, I made her my personal assistant!”
“Mr. Vance, not just sharp in business! Creative punishment too. Next step… the bedroom?”
The usually stoic man broke character, replying:
“Next time… I’ll try that.”
No one spotted my burner account. Like a voyeur, I watched my man worship the woman who crippled me, utterly bewitched.
Meanwhile, the diagnostic report detailing how my legs were crushed and shattered – requiring amputation – sat unread in his email.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trembling.
The image of the man who’d held me, weeping, swearing to tear the hit–and–run driver limb from limb… grew indistinct.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
