Jilted at the Altar, I Married His Best Friend

"I just didn't want Evelyn Simmons to go through what you went through. Can't you understand that?"

I looked down at the scar on the back of my hand, and something bitter spread through me.

Of course I hadn't forgotten. The man had been notorious in the industry back then, known for never keeping his hands to himself.

The moment the project was assigned to me, I told Felix.

We'd agreed: if the man ever tried anything, I'd send him three random numbers as a signal, and he'd come up right away to get me out.

But when the day came, I sent message after message. Not a single reply. Forget coming to save me.

In the end it was a pot of boiling water on the table that saved me.

While the man screamed, I stumbled out the door and ran down the stairs.

Only to find Felix slumped in the driver's seat, fast asleep.

I didn't wake him. With shaking hands, I called the police.

He only stirred when the officers arrived.

At the hospital he cried and apologized, saying work had been crushing lately, that he hadn't been sleeping, that he'd only meant to close his eyes for a minute and had drifted off by accident.

Looking at the dark circles under his eyes, at how exhausted and guilty he seemed, I forgave him in the end.

And now he was pouring that same guilt into making it up to someone else.

And still expected me to understand. To forgive.

Reading my silence as surrender, a faint smile crept onto his face.

"Don't be angry, Bee. I'll apologize to your parents properly in a bit. We'll pick another day for the engagement, and this time I'll be there for every—"

"There's no need. There's nothing left between us."

I forced down the catch in my throat, pulled my hand free from his, and cut him off in a flat voice.

"Check your account. See if the wedding money's gone through."

"And once it has, get out of my family's home."

Felix's face changed. He glanced at the text on his phone and shot to his feet.

"Bianca! Eight years together, and you really want to break up with me?"

The words had barely left him when crying drifted in from the living room.

I didn't answer. I just pulled the door open and walked toward the sound.

The door stood open. On the coffee table sat a fruit basket and a case of milk.

My mother sat on the sofa. My father stood in the kitchen doorway in his apron, his face dark.

Evelyn wrung her fingers, eyes rimmed red, her voice breaking.

"I'm so sorry, sir, ma'am. Today was my fault."

"I shouldn't have asked Mr. Heath to come with me. Please don't be upset."

I turned to look at Felix.

"You told her to come?"

"Felix, is there something wrong with your head?"

Seeing me, Evelyn hurried forward.

"Bianca, please don't blame Mr. Heath. I came on my own."

"I really didn't know today was your engagement with Mr. Heath. If I'd known, I never would have asked him to help me."

"I won't do it again next time—"

"Next time?"

I let out a low, soft laugh and cut her off.

"Should I expect a next time at the wedding, then? Or maybe the wedding night?"

"Miss Simmons depends on your Mr. Heath so much, the two of you might as well just be together every single day."

Evelyn's head came up, and the tears trembling in her eyes spilled over all at once.

"Bianca, I know you resent me because of today, but you can't say things like that about me."

"It was my first business trip, and it was in Mr. Heath's hometown. He's the only person I know there—"

Before I could answer, Felix stepped forward and put himself in front of Evelyn.

He stared at me, his voice low and heavy.

"Bianca, doesn't everything have a limit?"

"Why are you picking on a kid like this?"