Chapter 1

The small, rented room at the city hall registry office was stuffy. I smoothed down the front of my simple white dress for the tenth time, the cheap fabric sticking to my skin in the humid July air. Ten years. We had been together for ten years, and today, Sarah Miller was finally going to become Mrs. Ethan Black.

My fingers traced the single pearl on the necklace he' d given me for our first anniversary, a nervous habit. Ethan was late. As a top surgeon at our hospital, he was always busy, but he had promised. He swore this one day was sacred.

The door creaked open, but it wasn' t Ethan. It was his assistant, a young man named Leo, who looked everywhere but at me. He was holding a small, velvet-lined box.

"Sarah," he started, his voice barely a whisper, "Dr. Black is... detained."

My heart, which had been fluttering with nervous excitement, sank into my stomach. "Detained? Is there an emergency at the hospital? A major accident?" I was already mentally shifting from bride to ER nurse, ready to understand.

Leo finally met my eyes, and his were filled with pity. "No, not exactly." He held out the box. "He sent this."

I opened it. Inside, resting on the velvet, was a piece of folded cardstock. It was one of my "no-questions-asked forgiveness vouchers." I' d made a book of them for him years ago as a joke, a symbol of my unconditional love for him. He could use one for anything, from forgetting to take out the trash to a more serious mistake, and I would forgive him instantly. He' d only ever used one before, when he missed my thirtieth birthday for a last-minute conference.

This felt different. This felt wrong.

"What' s the reason, Leo?" I asked, my voice tight.

He swallowed hard. "It' s Brittany Hayes. Her show dog, Prince, is feeling unwell. Dr. Black is with them at the veterinary specialty clinic."

The name hit me harder than any emergency call ever could. Brittany Hayes. The notorious socialite. Ethan' s high school flame, the one he always called his "white whale," the one that got away. And he was missing our wedding for her dog. A cold, numbing disbelief washed over me.

"Her dog," I repeated, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "He' s missing our wedding for her dog."

"He said you would understand," Leo mumbled, looking at the floor again. "He said to use the voucher."

Rage, pure and hot, burned through the numbness. I slammed the box shut. This wasn' t a forgotten anniversary, this was a deliberate choice. He chose his obsession over our decade of shared dreams, of supporting each other through medical school, through grueling residencies, through life and death in the ER.

I took a deep, shaky breath. "Thank you, Leo. You can go."

He practically fled the room. I stood there alone, the white dress suddenly feeling like a costume for a fool. For years, the forgiveness vouchers had been a sweet inside joke, a testament to our bond. Now, Ethan was using my own love as a weapon against me, a tool to excuse the inexcusable. It was the first domino to fall, and I could feel the rest of the line trembling, ready to collapse.

My phone buzzed. It was Ethan. I ignored it. It buzzed again. And again. Finally, I answered, my voice dangerously calm.

"Sarah, baby, I' m so sorry," he began, his voice smooth and practiced. "You know how important Prince' s lineage is to Brittany. This dog show is everything to her. I couldn' t let her down."

"And what about me, Ethan? What about our wedding?"

"We can do it another day, anytime! This is a once-in-a-lifetime show for Prince. It' s an emergency of a different kind. You' re the most understanding person I know. That' s why I love you." His words were meant to be placating, but they were pure manipulation, twisting my compassion into a weakness he could exploit.

But something in me had snapped. "I' m going to my aunt' s for a few days, Ethan. I need some space."

"Pouting, Sarah? Don' t be like that. I' ll make it up to you, I promise."

I hung up before he could say another word. I ripped off the pearl necklace, leaving a red mark on my skin, and stuffed it into my purse. Then, I called my aunt, my voice breaking as I asked if I could come stay. She didn' t ask any questions, just told me the door was always open.

Hours later, after a long, silent drive, I decided to go back to our shared apartment first to pack a proper bag. The anger had cooled into a deep, hollow ache. Maybe I had overreacted. Maybe I just needed to see him, to talk this out face to face.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The first thing I saw was a trail of muddy paw prints across our cream-colored rug. The second was a half-eaten steak on a porcelain plate on the floor, our wedding china. Then I saw her.

Brittany Hayes was lounging on our sofa as if she owned it, wearing a silk robe. At her feet, a large, pristinely groomed Doberman, Prince, was chewing on one of my leather shoes.

"Oh, you' re back," Brittany said, her voice dripping with condescending sweetness. "Ethan' s in the shower. He was so stressed about Prince, poor thing."

I stared at the scene, at this woman and her dog who had so easily invaded and defiled my home, my life. Before I could say a word, Prince suddenly let out a low growl. His eyes locked onto me, and without any warning, he lunged.

Pain, sharp and searing, shot up my leg as his teeth sank into my calf. I screamed, stumbling backward, my hand flying to the wound as blood began to soak through my pants.