Chapter 3 Cold Feet, Colder Heart

Snow was falling faster now.

Selena's gown, once pristine, trailed behind her in slushy grey as she walked down the empty sidewalk away from the cemetery. Her fingers were frozen. Her lips chapped. But her mind burned.

Every step took her farther from who she used to be.

She no longer cared about makeup or diamonds or the perfect venue.

All she wanted was retribution.

---

At a coffee shop a few blocks down, she ducked into the bathroom, locked the door, and stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was pale, her curls flattened by the wind, her lipstick smudged.

She didn't fix any of it.

Instead, she pulled out her phone and opened her banking app. Her heart sank-just like she remembered, most of her accounts had already been drained. Lucas had convinced her to "merge finances" in the months leading up to the wedding.

He'd robbed her before the vows were even spoken.

She had one card left. An emergency account her father made her promise never to touch unless she had no one else to turn to.

Well. She had no one now.

She transferred a few thousand into a fresh digital wallet and walked out into the street like a woman with nothing to lose.

---

She booked a room in a run-down hotel on the edge of downtown. It was the kind of place where no one asked questions. The kind of place that didn't care if a woman walked in wearing a wedding dress and a dead stare.

The clerk handed her the key with wide eyes, but she said nothing.

Once inside, she peeled off the dress and stood in silence for a long moment, letting the cold air bite her skin. Then, she pulled out her laptop and inserted the USB again.

This time, she watched it all.

Not just the voices, but the faces. Lucas's lazy smirk as he talked about "marrying into her inheritance." Vanessa, still wearing her maid of honor robe, curled up in his lap, sipping champagne and bragging about how easy Selena was to manipulate.

"Once we get her out of the way," Vanessa purred, "we'll have the company, the assets, the penthouse... everything."

Lucas chuckled. "And the press will write sob stories about the poor bride who tripped and fell from the balcony."

Selena flinched.

She hadn't fallen. Vanessa had pushed her.

The memory was still blurry-the wind, the screaming, the sharp crack of her skull against the railing-but she remembered Vanessa's eyes.

Cold. Smiling.

That was the moment Selena had died.

And now she was back to make sure they both joined her.

---

The next morning, the headlines were exactly what she expected:

"Heiress Disappears on Wedding Day-Cold Feet or Scandal?"

"Lucas Blackwell Left at the Altar: Sources Say Bride Vanished Without a Word."

"Vanessa Clark Steps in to Comfort Devastated Groom."

Selena scoffed and threw her phone aside. "Devastated," she muttered. "He probably popped a bottle the minute I left."

But it worked in her favor. No one was looking for her. They'd all assume she ran out of fear or guilt. Her absence wasn't a threat.

Yet.

---

Later that afternoon, she slipped into an old internet café under a fake name and began phase one: Take back her father's company.

She still remembered the exact day Lucas had approached her with the idea of consolidating ownership. "It'll be easier," he'd said. "We're going to be married anyway. No need for secrets."

She'd signed everything without reading.

Naive. Blind.

But this time, she had five years of knowledge on her side.

She pulled up corporate filings and cross-referenced Lucas's financial dealings. A few buried names appeared-shell companies used to funnel her family's assets into Lucas's hands. Accounts in Belize. Wire transfers marked as "investments" but ending in zero returns.

Fraud. Embezzlement. Insider trading.

She downloaded everything.

Vanessa was no better. A little digging brought up her fake social media following, doctored endorsements, and a history of dating investors before ghosting them after fund transfers.

"Perfect," Selena whispered, archiving every screenshot into a folder labeled:

RUIN.

Then came the message. A new number. Unlisted.

Unknown:

> You disappeared. Smart move.

But if you want real revenge, you're going to need help.

Her fingers froze.

Selena:

> Who is this?

No reply. Not for a minute.

Then-

Unknown:

> Let's just say I've been burned by Lucas Blackwell too.

Meet me tomorrow. 3PM. Corner of 7th and Harrow.

Wear black. Come alone.

Selena stared at the message, heartbeat pounding.

A trap? Possibly.

But if someone else wanted to destroy Lucas... she wasn't the only one with fire in her blood.

She closed her laptop slowly, a grim smile curling her lips.

Let the games begin.

---

To be continued...