I Cancelled The Wedding And Disappeared With His Child

Rhys came home very late.

I pretended to be asleep, my back to him, but my mind was a slideshow of betrayals, each one tearing at my heart.

The pillow beneath my cheek was cold and damp with tears.

The mattress dipped behind me. He leaned over, careful not to wake me, and placed a soft kiss on my ear.

His familiar after-shower scent wafted over me, so comforting, so much like home, yet I couldn't relax.

My back was rigid. I was too afraid to open my eyes, unsure how to face him.

For five years, his patience with me had been nearly endless. Whenever I grew upset, he would soothe me with a smile, gently guiding me back to his way of thinking.

The only exception was Tessa. On that subject alone, he never budged.

It was a thorn that had been festering in my heart for years.

The next morning, the countdown on my phone screen flashed: 6 DAYS LEFT. Rhys glanced over. "Six days? For what?"

My heart hammered against my ribs, and I quickly shut off the screen.

"Just a reminder for the wedding."

He smiled and pulled me into a tight hug.

"How could I ever forget?" He kissed me gently. "Don't miss the charity gala tonight."

"Why?" I asked.

He gave me a mysterious smile. "It's a secret for now. All you need to know is that you're the star of the show tonight."

Then he left for the office.

Six days. That was all the time I had left with him. Even as I prepared to let go, a part of me, the part that still ached for him, wanted to hoard these final moments.

I opened my computer and pulled up the digital blueprints for the home we had designed together—every detail of the living room, nursery, and art studio—and dragged them into the trash.

One by one, the future we had dreamed of became a pile of useless data. The chime of the computer emptying the bin felt like it was crushing my heart.

Deep inside, a voice howled, low and mournful, It's all broken… Is there no going back?

I wiped the tears from my face and pressed a hand to my aching chest.

Forgetting him felt impossible.

I arrived a little late to the gala. The ballroom was glittering under a cascade of chandeliers, the air buzzing with conversation.

I saw Rhys immediately, surrounded by a group of business partners, the undeniable center of attention.

Tessa stood by his side, her arm linked with his, a brilliant smile on her face. The slit in her long dress was cut to perfectly reveal the old scar on her leg, a permanent mark she displayed like a badge of honor.

I stopped short, my breath catching in my throat.

"Tessa, you and Rhys look like a perfect match."

"Anyone who didn't know better would think you two were the couple."

Tessa tilted her head to look at Rhys, a coy smile on her face. "Do we look like a couple?"

His eyes were full of undisguised tenderness. He made no move to correct their absurd compliments.

It wasn't until she noticed me approaching that Tessa composed her expression, feigning modesty.

"It's a shame I met him too late," she said in a tone laced with mock regret. "I can only stand here and wish him well from afar."

A vise gripped my heart.

"Look, here comes our bride-to-be!" someone called out.

"Sloane, we're so envious of you," another guest said. "Rhys's love for you is second to none."

I forced a smile, knowing their words were hollow.

It seemed everyone knew about Rhys and Tessa. I was the only fool living in my own happy delusion.

But it didn't matter anymore. I would be leaving soon.

Still, a pang of grief shot through me for the life I was losing. For five years, he had been a part of me.

I gazed at him, trying to burn his face into my memory.

"What are you thinking about, Sloane?" Rhys asked, breaking away from the crowd.

"Nothing," I said, reaching up to adjust his tie clip. "Your tie clip is striking."

It was a strange impulse, but I had to know. The tie clip and matching cufflinks weren't from me, nor were they his usual style.

He shifted uncomfortably, a flicker of something in his eyes.

"My other clips didn't go with this suit. It's a gift from the company."

He excused himself and made a hasty retreat.

A sharp pang shot through my heart. I knew it was a lie. All his clothes and accessories were custom-made by top brands; he would never wear a generic company gift.

There was only one answer: Tessa had chosen it for him.

And he had just lied to my face.

Just then, Tessa sashayed over, holding a glass of champagne.

"Sloane, I'm so envious of you," she said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "You're about to marry Rhys."

"Thank you," I replied, forcing a polite smile.

"But he'll never forget me. No matter what you do, I will always be by his side."

She raised her glass, her eyes full of contempt. The bracelet on her wrist was a limited edition from the same luxury brand as Rhys's tie clip.

At that moment, the music swelled, and Rhys strode to the center of the hall with a microphone.

"In a few days, Sloane and I will be getting married," he announced. "Tonight, I will present my wife-to-be with the Sterling family's most precious heirloom, the Star of Sterling necklace."

He opened a box, and a magnificent blue sapphire glittered under the lights. The crowd erupted in applause, all eyes turning to me.

Rhys’s gaze seemed full of love, waiting for me to join him on stage.

Suddenly, a thunderous crash echoed through the ballroom. The massive glass art installation beside me came crashing down, sending a shower of glittering shards everywhere.

Cold liquid soaked my skin as shards of glass sliced into my flesh. Screams erupted as guests scattered.

I was frozen in place; the slightest movement sent a fresh wave of agony through me. I was trapped, the pain intensifying with each passing second.

I looked at Rhys in terror. He was running toward me.

A flicker of hope ignited, but it was quickly extinguished. Just a few feet away, he stopped and turned to Tessa, who had fallen in the commotion and was crying, clutching her leg.

"Don't be afraid," he said, his voice thick with panic. "I'll take you to the hospital."

He swept her into his arms and rushed out the door, his face etched with worry.

He never once looked back at me. He never saw the hem of my dress, stained dark with blood.