Chapter 1Left at the Altar of Lies

The first trip we took after officially declaring our feelings for each other ended in a mess of shattered glass and twisted metal.

When I finally blinked my eyes open, the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room momentarily blinded me. And then, there was Spencer. He was sitting by my bedside, his handsome face etched with a textbook display of agonizing worry.

Seeing him like that, a sudden, mischievous spark ignited in my chest. I decided to play a little game. Feigning a perfectly blank, confused stare, I tilted my head and whispered, "Who are you?"

Spencer froze. The breath hitched in his throat.

Underneath the blanket, I was secretly smiling. I remembered the frantic, desperate way he had confessed his love to me just days ago. Now that I had conveniently "lost my memory," how would he play it? Would he immediately claim the title of boyfriend? Or would he skip the formalities and call himself my future husband?

I was biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

But then, the air in the room seemed to turn to ice.

"I'm your fiancé," Spencer said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "But, to be completely honest with you... there are no real feelings between us."

My heart stopped.

Before I could even process the words, he pulled out his phone and turned the screen toward me. Staring back at me was a photo of a girl. She looked timid, frail, drowning in an oversized sweater. I recognized her vaguely—she was a charity case his family’s philanthropic foundation had put through college.

"This is the woman I actually love," Spencer continued, his tone conversational, as if he were discussing the weather. "You know how it is with our families. This marriage is just a boardroom merger. We've always agreed to live our own separate lives."

Separate lives?

If that was the case, there was absolutely no reason for this wedding to happen.

Without a second of hesitation in my heart, I knew the engagement was over.

But as time went on, I would learn a bitter truth about Spencer Harrington: he was a man who wanted to play a game he couldn't afford to lose, and no matter how hard I tried to throw him away, he just wouldn't let go.

* * *

After pulling the doctor aside to confirm that retrograde amnesia was indeed a plausible side effect of my concussion, Spencer walked back to my bed.

"I brought you on this trip specifically to confess this to you," he said, his eyes darting away from mine, unable to hold my gaze. "But don't worry. I am still going to marry you."

A fiery, suffocating rage clawed at my throat.

"If your heart belongs to someone else, why the hell would you marry me?"

I reached blindly for my phone on the nightstand. "Tell me which one of these contacts is my father. I'm calling him right now. The wedding is off."

"Don't!"

Spencer lunged forward, his fingers clamping down hard around my wrist.

Our eyes locked. For a fraction of a second, I saw raw, unfiltered panic flash in his irises.

A tiny, pathetic ember of hope flared in my chest. Was it a joke? Was he just trying to get back at me for my amnesia prank?

But before that pathetic joy could even begin to warm me, Spencer shattered it.

"Can you stop being so damn impulsive?" he snapped. "Do you have any idea how many millions in capital our families will bleed if we call off this merger now?"

He leaned closer, his jaw tight. "You are the golden child of the Prescott family. Nobody will ever point a finger at you. But what about my love? What about Paige? She’s just a girl from a trailer park who relies on my foundation. If the press digs into our relationship, they'll tear her apart. What is she supposed to do?"

A wave of absolute bitterness flooded my mouth. I wanted to scream at him: And what about me? What am I supposed to do? Am I just the sacrificial lamb for your trust fund?

Suddenly, Spencer seemed to remember that I was the one who had just been pulled from a car wreck. His gaze dropped to my wrist, which was now turning a violent shade of red under his grip.

A flicker of remorse crossed his face. He let go.

"I know you're a perfectionist. I know you hate the idea of sharing," he said, his voice softening into something patronizing. "Just relax. I'm going to send her abroad soon. We'll never see each other again."

He left the room shortly after. I didn't say a single word. I couldn't.

For over a decade, we had been the perfect high-society cliché—childhood sweethearts destined for the altar. I had honestly believed the feelings were mutual. It turned out I was just a fool living in an echo chamber of my own devotion. Spencer Harrington’s heart had been given away a long time ago.

"What the hell is going on with you?"

Around midnight, hushed voices drifted through the crack in my hospital door.

"You literally just confessed your dying love to Caroline Prescott," one of his fraternity brothers was whispering fiercely. "And now you're telling us Paige is your girlfriend?"

"I’ve been engaged to Caroline since we were kids. She looks at me like I hung the moon. I figured it was just time I said the words..." Spencer’s voice drifted through the gap, sounding utterly detached.

"But then yesterday, Paige texted me. She said she wanted to die." Spencer's tone suddenly shifted, filling with an anxious, vibrating energy. "I didn't realize how much she depended on me."

"Paige is so fragile. She’s constantly terrified of losing me. I need to give her a love that is entirely, exclusively hers."

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The moment my bare toes touched the freezing linoleum floor, a physical ache shot through my heart.

"So what about Caroline?" the friend asked.

"I'm not going to string them both along," Spencer reasoned, sounding disgustingly righteous. "I just want to spend this last stretch of time with Paige. I need to teach her how to stand on her own two feet. Then I’ll set up a trust for her, give her enough money to be comfortable, and send her far away. I'll never see her again."

"And Caroline?"

"Caroline and I are a done deal. Our marriage is set in stone. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to her."

My heart flatlined. It was completely, utterly dead.

I tilted my head back, staring at the sterile ceiling tiles, refusing to let a single tear fall for a man who wasn't worth the salt.

Spencer, if you knew I was a perfectionist, if you knew I wouldn't accept a tarnished love... why did you ever think you could test my limits?

I picked up my phone and opened the text thread with my dad.

[Cancel the engagement with the Harringtons.]