Christina’s POV
"Her na is Lea Marchand, now Lea Lopez after the divorce. Her husband is an abusive drunk. He showed up at her hotel and wouldn’t leave her alone. I had to get her out of there. She’s coming back to Highrise City with . He can’t touch her there. His family has power, old traditions. The divorce brings them sha, so they’ll do anything to make her submit..."
Hudson’s voice sounded flat and emotionless, like he was reading a weather report.
I caught so words, but most blurred into a distant hum.
All I could focus on was the heavy feeling in my chest.
What I felt was panic.
Not the usual kind, though.
When he’d received that call and rushed out, leaving in the middle of discussing our prenup, a familiar pain washed over like a tidal wave.
I’d seen this script before. I’d lived it.
And I also felt... relieved.
I liked Hudson. Still do. No, more than like. I loved him. Which is exactly why this hurt so much.
Maybe I just wasn’t ant to have this.
He was too perfect to be real anyway.
If your boyfriend cos ho late slling like perfu and alcohol after dining with another woman, wouldn’t you be at least a little angry?
You would. If you cared.
So why wasn’t I?
Because I was too scared. Scared of experiencing that feeling of abandonnt again.
When Rowan Hale tried spreading rumors about her and Hudson, I hadn’t felt jealous then either.
I told myself it was because he shut her down quickly, making it clear he wasn’t interested.
I trusted him. He wasn’t the cheating type.
But this was different.
This striking woman in the red dress wasn’t just so singer trying to boost her profile. She was soone from his past. Soone with history. Soone he wasn’t in a hurry to tell about.
He’d had dinner with her, co ho late. He canceled our wedding dress fitting, and now he was flying her back to Highrise City.
And Hudson had accused of not taking our wedding seriously.
If these weren’t red flags, what were?
I should be furious, jealous, throwing things, screaming.
Instead, I felt... nothing.
My heart was breaking, but I wouldn’t let myself feel it. Couldn’t go through that pain again.
I asked who she was.
No jealousy, no anger.
Just the desperate resignation of soone giving up completely.
Just like when Niall left for Beatrice. n always leave for other won. It seed to be the inevitable pattern of my life.
Of course the fairy tale was over.
I’d been floating recently—Fabrizio’s invitation, Hudson’s proposal, him being my second-chance mate. It was all too good to be true. Like winning the lottery, then finding buried treasure, then getting a call from a long-lost billionaire relative with a mysterious will.
And now the fantasy was crashing down.
Only work felt real. I could hold the necklace, feel its weight. But everything in relationships? Always made uneasy.
"She’s just a friend," Hudson said, eting my eyes. "An old friend. She runs operations at Titanova."
Sothing he saw on my face must have unsettled him.
"What’s wrong?"
"What? Nothing." My legs gave out, and I grabbed a chair, dropping heavily into it. "So she’s flying back to Highrise with you."
"Yes, I need to cut the trip short." He gave an apologetic look.
"It’s fine." I forced a smile. "I understand."
Of course I did.
Niall was perfect for Beatrice.
He had eyes only for her.
Hudson was perfect too. And now there was another woman. One he obviously cared about. One he’d drop everything for at the ring of a phone.
The other shoe had finally dropped.
Ysolde and Hudson called it cold feet.
But it wasn’t.
It wasn’t wedding jitters or concerns about matrimony.
It was the painful familiarity, the repetition of a pattern of betrayal I’d lived through before. I knew how this story ended because I’d already lived it once.
I didn’t know why, but I just knew.
I was always the one they chose to leave.
Franklin and Caroline chose Beatrice. Niall chose Beatrice.
Now Hudson chose Lea.
I almost expected Fabrizio to call and tell his offer was a mistake or a prank.
"Christina? Christina?"
"Hmm?" I blinked. Hudson stood in front of , his hands on my shoulders.
"You’re crying." He brushed his thumb across my cheek, the tip wet with tears.
"Am I?" I rubbed my eyes. "Must be the toxic fus I inhaled."
"What fus?"
"I was using a butane micro torch earlier. The vapors sting a bit." I pushed myself up. "I need to use the bathroom."
I escaped to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and dunked my head under the cold water.
Hudson’s voice ca through. "Are you okay?"
I straightened up to look at him. "Fine."
The water concealed my pale face and the redness in my eyes.
He stared at for a mont. "If sothing’s bothering you, you can tell ."
"I’m fine, really." I stuck with my lie about inhaling fus. "It’s late, you should get so rest, you have a flight to catch."
"You never told how the dress fitting went."
I thought about the dress—ivory silk chiffon, off-the-shoulder with a structured bodice and a long, dramatic train embroidered with tiny pearls and silver thread that caught the light.
"It was perfect."
Just like everything we once had was perfect. Too bad perfect things never belong to .
Too bad I’ll never get to wear it now.
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