The Bride Who Was A No-Show

Julian's voice was sharp with impatience when he called. "Where are you? The engagement party is just around the corner, and you're off gallivanting somewhere? Send me your location. I'm coming to get you."

I ignored him, but he found me anyway, using my phone's GPS to track me to the morgue's entrance.

He took in my disheveled appearance, his brow furrowing in distaste. "Look at the state of you. Why have you let yourself go like this?"

I looked up, my expression numb, and stared at the man responsible for my father's death. Word by word, I said, "We're supposed to be having an engagement party. That man was your future father-in-law. And he didn't leak anything."

For a fleeting moment, a flicker of something—pity?—crossed his face. But it was gone in the next second, as Scarlett rushed to his side, grabbing his arm in a theatrical panic.

"Julian, I was just so scared... Those files had my private photos in them. If those had gotten out, I—" She covered her mouth, her eyes welling with crocodile tears.

Julian immediately pulled her into a protective embrace, turning back to me with a hardened expression. "You heard her. Those files had her private photos. If they got out, her reputation would be ruined. You of all people should understand that."

The sheer absurdity of his excuse stole my breath. For a few photos, Julian had sent my father to a living hell and let him be tortured to death.

Just then, Scarlett stepped forward, offering me a bouquet of white lilies, her face a perfect mask of sorrow. "Aurora, we know the conditions here are… unpleasant. We wanted to bring something for him. After all, he's your father. We can't let him suffer, can we?"

Her saccharine smile was like acid in my eyes. I slapped the flowers from her hand. "I don't need your fake sympathy!" I roared.

Scarlett froze, and then the tears came, real or not. "Aurora, I was only trying to apologize. This has all been a terrible misunderstanding."

A misunderstanding that cost my father his life.

I clutched the pocket watch in my pocket, the cool metal a stark contrast to my burning rage. I took a step back. "Fine," I said, my voice dangerously low. "You want to apologize? Then kneel."

"Have you made enough of a scene?" Julian stepped forward, his fingers clamping around my wrist like a vice. His tone was ice. "Scarlett never would have come to a place like this if it weren't for you, and now you're deliberately making things difficult for her."

On cue, Scarlett let out a choked sob and ran off as if she were the wounded party.

The weight of the last few days—the shock, the grief, the exhaustion—crashed down on me all at once. My vision tunneled to black, and the world dissolved.

When I woke up, I was in the master bedroom of the penthouse. Julian was sitting by the bed, holding my hand. "You just collapsed," he said, a hint of relief in his voice as he saw my eyes open. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

A chilling numbness spread through my chest. I turned my face away from him, and a new panic seized me as I realized the pocket watch was gone.

"Where is my watch?" I demanded, my voice raw. It was the only piece of my father I had left.

"Oh, that," Julian said dismissively. "I had it put in the safe. For safekeeping."

I knew I couldn't fight him, not now. I had no choice but to stay, a prisoner in a place I once called home.