Chapter 4Left at the Altar of Lies

The man who walked into the room was dressed in the tailored black suit of the Prescott family security detail, but he moved with an unmistakable, overwhelming aura of aristocratic authority.

He stepped between us, shielding me completely from Spencer's view, and pulled me into a protective embrace.

"I apologize for the delay, Ms. Prescott."

I quickly wiped my face, swallowed my tears, and looked over the bodyguard's broad shoulder at Spencer.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice finally steady. "How desperately did I love you? I guess I just can't remember."

Without another word, I turned on my heel. In my peripheral vision, I caught a rare flash of genuine panic on Spencer's face. He took a step forward, as if to chase after me.

"Spencer... my arm... it hurts so much..." Paige’s fragile, trembling voice echoed from the bed.

Spencer stopped. He didn't follow me.

As I crossed the threshold out of the ward, I grabbed the leather diary off the edge of the bed and dropped it straight into the biohazard trash bin.

After that day, I severed all contact with Spencer Harrington. I was busy packing my life into boxes; he was busy giving Paige his "exclusive" love.

A few days later, the high-end bridal atelier on Fifth Avenue sent me a text. The bespoke wedding dress I had spent months personally designing was finally finished.

It hit me then—our grand society wedding was supposed to be exactly one week away.

Even though I knew I would never walk down the aisle in it, I had poured my soul into that design. I just wanted to see it one last time.

Inside the hushed, velvet-lined boutique, the gown shimmered under the spotlights, an absolute masterpiece of silk and hand-sewn pearls. My fingers were trembling as I gently grazed the tulle.

"I thought you said you weren't marrying him? Clearly, you're still obsessing."

I turned around. It was Paige. Again.

"I came to say goodbye to my art," I said coolly. "I have zero interest in keeping a man whose loyalty comes with an asterisk."

"It's just a shame this dress is going to waste."

I let out a sharp, dismissive laugh. "If you want it so badly, it's yours. Take it."

To my surprise, Paige didn't look insulted. Her eyes lit up with a terrifying, greedy hunger. She actually stepped forward, reaching out to touch the fabric.

I sighed, shaking my head. In a way, her delusion was pathetic. At the end of the day, Spencer was the architect of this entire disaster.

But I vastly underestimated the depths of Paige's malice.

The moment she leaned over the bodice, her breathing hitched. She began gasping violently, her knees buckling as she collapsed onto the plush carpet.

Panicking, I dropped to my knees beside her. "What's wrong with you?"

"Paige!"

Before I could even touch her, I was violently shoved backward. Spencer had arrived.

Paige's lips were turning blue, but as she looked up at me, I caught a fleeting, unmistakable gleam of absolute triumph in her eyes.

"Ms. Prescott... she said..." Paige gasped, clutching her chest. "She said since you were shipping me away... I should at least get to see the wedding dress..."

"I was so jealous... I just wanted to touch it... but suddenly... my asthma..."

Spencer's hands flew over the dress. He noticed a faint dusting of fine powder on the silk neckline. He brought his fingers to his nose, and then his eyes snapped to mine, sharp and lethal.

"Hazelnut dust. Paige has a severe tree nut allergy. You did this on purpose!"

He screamed for his driver to get the car ready to rush her to the ER.

I shook my head, utterly bewildered. "I literally already told you I am not marrying you! Why on earth would I go out of my way to hurt her?"

Spencer, his face darkened with absolute rage, ignored my words completely. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the cheek.

"Liar! You're literally standing here hovering over your wedding dress, and you're still lying to my face!"

"I gave you my word that I would send her away! Why couldn't you just let her live?!"

He grabbed me by the arm, dragging me toward the back of the boutique, and shoved me into the windowless, soundproof VIP fitting room.

Then, he hit the light switch.

"Spencer, you bastard, you know I'm claustrophobic!" I screamed, slamming my fists against the heavy oak door.

The room was pitch black, sealed tighter than a vault.

Spencer didn't say a word.

Through the suffocating darkness, the tiny red light of the smoke detector blinked rhythmically. My heart began to pound against my ribs like a trapped bird.

When I was ten years old, I had been kidnapped and locked in a shipping container. The trauma had left me with paralyzing claustrophobia.

Back then, my parents had been too busy dealing with the fallout and the police. It was Spencer who had snuck into my bedroom every single night, holding my hand until the night terrors passed.

“Don't be afraid,” he used to whisper in the dark. “I'm right here. You never have to be scared again.”

But now, separated by a heavy wooden door, his voice was ice-cold.

"Sit in the dark and think about what you did today. Maybe it will teach you to stop torturing Paige."

My lungs seized. The panic attack hit me like a freight train. I collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for air that wasn't there.

"I never touched her! I swear I didn't! I'll leave! I'll never look at you again! Please, just let me out!"

My begged screams were cut off by the muffled voice of Spencer's driver in the hallway.

"Sir, she's fading fast. She keeps crying, saying she just wants to see you one last time before she dies."

The footsteps rapidly faded away. I was left entirely alone, shivering violently in the pitch black.

I don't know how many hours passed. My nails were bloody from scratching at the door. Finally, light flooded the room.

It wasn't Spencer.

It was the bodyguard from the hospital. And standing right behind him was my father.

Seeing me curled up on the floor, covered in sweat and shivering, a flash of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossed the bodyguard's stoic face.

My father was shaking with a wrath I had never seen before.

"My daughter has been treated like absolute garbage, and I am only finding out about this now?!"

Right before I blacked out from the exhaustion, I heard my father issue a quiet, terrifying order to his right-hand man.

"That zoning intel from the governor's office? Don't warn the Harringtons. Let them sink their entire fortune into bidding on that plot of land."

My father knelt down, his warm hand gently brushing the matted hair from my forehead.

"Oh, my sweet girl. I thought you were just throwing a tantrum about the wedding. I haven't even officially broken the news to the Harrington board yet. But since Spencer is so desperately in love with that little viper..."

His voice dropped into a lethal whisper. "This wedding is going to be my grand gift to the happy couple. I hope they're ready to choke on it."