Chapter 2

Evelyn Roman POV:

"I' ll have HR move her to the archives department in the basement first thing Monday morning. I promise."

Blake' s words echoed in my head, a hollow, mocking promise against the backdrop of the chaotic scene unfolding around me. He had promised. He, Blake Howard, the rising star of the New York legal world, a man whose word was supposed to be his bond, had looked me in the eye and lied on our wedding day.

I had built my trust in him over seven years, brick by painstaking brick. I' d believed in his integrity, his character. I had staked my entire future, and the future of our unborn child, on the belief that he was a good man.

In that single, devastating moment, I realized I had lost the biggest gamble of my life.

The sharp cramp in my abdomen subsided into a dull, persistent ache. It was a physical manifestation of the gaping wound he had torn open inside me. I looked down at my hand, the one he had just dropped. It was empty.

My reflection in the polished marble floor was a distorted, pathetic caricature of a bride. A woman abandoned. A fool.

My phone, tucked into my mother' s purse, began to buzz incessantly. I knew it was him. An endless stream of texts trying to smooth this over, to manage the situation.

Cali was just dehydrated. The paramedics are here. She' s fine.

I' m so sorry, baby. This is just a mess. I' ll be right back, I promise. We can still do this.

Evelyn, please answer me.

I felt nothing. The frantic buzzing was just an annoying insect I wanted to swat away. The man who was sending those messages was a stranger to me now.

I took a deep breath, the corset of my dress digging into my ribs. I needed to breathe. I needed to think. I pushed down the tidal wave of heartbreak and humiliation, replacing it with a cold, hard sheet of ice.

I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and turned to face the stunned crowd. My mother was already by my side, her face pale with worry.

"What happened? Where is Blake?" she whispered, her eyes darting around the room.

Before I could answer, I walked to the officiant' s microphone. My hands were perfectly steady as I adjusted it. The room fell into a sudden, complete silence. Every eye was on me.

"I' m sorry to have wasted all of your time," I said, my voice clear and even, amplifying through the grand, sun-drenched hall. "It appears there will be no wedding today. The ceremony is cancelled. Please, enjoy the champagne and canapés on your way out."

A collective gasp, louder this time. A flurry of whispers erupted like wildfire.

Blake' s mother, Eleanor Howard, a woman obsessed with social standing and appearances, pushed her way through the crowd, her face a thunderous mask of outrage.

"Evelyn! What is the meaning of this?" she hissed, grabbing my arm. "Have you lost your mind? You can' t just cancel a wedding! Think of the embarrassment! What will people say?"

Her concern wasn' t for me, the bride left standing alone. It was for the Howard family name. For the pristine image they had so carefully cultivated.

My own mother, Katherine, saw something in my face that Eleanor missed. She noticed the slight tremor in my hand, the way my carefully applied waterproof mascara was starting to smudge just a tiny bit at the corners of my eyes.

"Evelyn, honey, did you and Blake have a fight?" she asked gently, her voice full of a concern that was real and deep.

The simple, loving question was the one thing that threatened to break through my icy composure. A lump formed in my throat, thick and painful. I wanted to collapse into her arms, to sob like a child. But I couldn't. Not here. Not in front of all these people. Not in front of Eleanor Howard.

"Don' t be ridiculous, Katherine," Eleanor snapped. "Blake adores her. This is just Evelyn being dramatic. Where is my son?"

The dull ache in my belly pulsed again, a cruel reminder of the secret I held. Blake. Everyone' s golden boy. The reliable, steadfast Blake Howard who would never do anything to cause a scene. The man who, just this morning, had promised me forever.

I turned my gaze to his mother, my eyes as cold and hard as the diamonds on my ears.

"He' s gone," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "He ran off."