Chapter 1

Seven days before the wedding, and my fiancé had gotten my name wrong on the invitations for the ninety-ninth time.

Three hundred invitations had gone out. Every single one bore another woman's name.

Lily Hart.

I brought a sample to him. Nathan's brow creased with impatience.

"Lily's been in a bad place lately. Don't upset her with something this petty. Besides, she saved my life. What's wrong with giving her a little presence at the wedding?"

I looked past him into the apartment that was supposed to be ours. My whole body was trembling.

Lily Hart was wearing my pajamas, my engagement ring on her finger, sitting on the sofa I'd picked out myself, smiling at me.

"Claire, you don't mind, do you? Nathan said my back hurts, so he's letting me sleep in the master bedroom tonight."

I set the invitation on the table. My finger pressed down on the line that read Lily Hart.

"Fine."

I'd given up the master bedroom. I'd given up the name on the invitations.

The wedding and the groom—I didn't want those either.

Lily snatched up the invitation faster than I could set it down.

She flipped it open, and when she saw the line Bride: Lily Hart, her fingers lingered on the gold-foil lettering for two seconds.

The wedding planner stood beside her, smiling cautiously.

"Ms. Bennett, Mr. Whitmore confirmed it three times. Take another look, anything else you'd like changed?"

Three times.

Every letter on that cardstock was perfectly clear.

No Claire Bennett.

Only Lily Hart.

Nathan came out of the kitchen carrying a warm glass of milk and handed it to Lily without thinking.

"What are you doing here again?"

I pushed the invitation in front of him.

"You confirmed it three times."

He glanced down, annoyance creeping between his brows.

"The wedding company made a mistake. Have them reprint it."

"They've already been sent out."

"Then send a correction email."

He said it so easily.

Three hundred invitations with another woman's name printed where the bride's should be, and he spoke as if someone had gotten a dish wrong on the dinner menu. Just fix it.

Lily cradled her mug, and her eyes reddened instantly, tears spilling on cue.

"Nathan, it's all my fault… I shouldn't have helped you review the details. Is Claire… is she upset with me?"

Nathan reached over and wiped the tear from the corner of her eye, his voice so gentle it was as though he feared she might shatter.

"It's not your fault. You were just trying to help. If she can't even handle this without making a fuss, she's the one being unreasonable."

I suddenly remembered last week.

My stomach was cramping so badly I'd slid off the sofa onto the floor. I texted him to bring me a glass of warm water.

He replied forty minutes later.

"There's water in the kitchen. Get it yourself."

But Lily mentions her back hurts once, and he gives up the master bedroom, heats her milk, drapes the robe I'd chosen over her shoulders.

The wedding planner asked quietly:

"Ms. Bennett, so are we making the change or…?"

I said:

"No changes."

Nathan looked up.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I stood. I placed the invitation back in the center of the coffee table.

"The entire wedding is canceled."

The living room went dead silent.

Nathan's hand froze mid-air, still holding the cup. His tone went cold.

"Claire Bennett, are you done throwing a fit?"

"The contracts are in my name. The money came from my account. I say it's canceled—it's canceled."

Lily bit her lip. Tears fell.

"Claire, don't do this. Nathan's just been so busy. He didn't mean to get your name wrong."

I looked at the ring on her hand.

"Take it off."

She pulled her hand back.

"It's just the sample ring. Nathan said I should try it for sizing."

"My ring. You're trying it on?"

Nathan set down his cup.

"Her fingers are about the same size as yours. She was just trying it on."

"And the master bedroom? Should she test the marriage bed for me too?"

Nathan's expression turned ugly.

"Watch your mouth."

"Watch your behavior."

He stared at me. A few seconds passed, then he let out a cold laugh.

"Fine. Make your scene. Your mother just sent invitations to all the relatives. Go ahead—cancel it. I dare you."

Before, when he used that tone to pin me down, I would panic. I would retreat. I would swallow my tears.

Not this time.

I took out my phone and called the wedding planner right in front of him.

"Terminate everything. The dress, the hotel, the dinner, the invitations—all of it. Deduct the penalty from the deposit. Refund the balance to my account."

After I hung up, the smile was gone from Nathan's face.

Lily clutched the sash of the robe and lowered her head.

That robe was a gift from my mother.

She'd said it would be comfortable for the first morning as a newlywed—and would photograph beautifully too.

I looked at it one last time, then turned toward the door.

Nathan called after me:

"If you walk out today, don't bother coming back tomorrow!"

I pulled the door open.

"I won't."

As the elevator doors closed, I heard Lily ask:

"Nathan, she won't really leave, will she?"

Nathan's answer:

"She can't live without me."

The elevator descended.

I opened my phone and tapped on the email I'd just received.

Westbridge General Hospital archive retrieval request—preliminary review approved.

That rainy night seven years ago. Someone was finally willing to give me back the truth.