Chapter 2

The wedding reception was a loud symphony of clinking glasses, forced laughter, and soft jazz music.

I sat alone in a velvet chair tucked into the darkest corner of the ballroom.

The hallway was a quiet refuge from the pulsing bass but I could hear them before they realized.

"Are you completely insane, Nate?" It was Liam, his best man. His voice was a harsh, urgent whisper. "What if she loses her mind over this stunt? What if she packs her bags and leaves you tonight?"

A silver lighter flicked in the corridor. I heard Nathan exhale a long, slow drag of a cigarette. The acrid smell of tobacco drifted toward me.

"Leave?" Nathan scoffed. "Maureen isn't going anywhere, Liam."

"You literally just married her sister in front of her," Liam argued. "You humiliated her in front of three hundred guests."

"And she stood there and took it, didn't she?" Nathan replied smoothly. "She loves me to the point of absolute madness. She gave up her eyes for me. You don't walk away from that kind of sacrifice. It binds you. Besides, look at her."

He paused. I felt his gaze piercing the dim lighting, landing on me.

"She is a blind cripple," Nathan stated coldly, the words hitting me like a physical strike. "She relies on me for absolutely everything. She can't even walk down the street without holding my arm. She can’t live without me. Where would she go? How would she survive a single day out there?"

A breathless giggle erupted beside him.

"He's right, Liam," my sister chimed in. "It's actually quite sad. Did you see her up there at the altar? With that creepy, unblinking stare? It gives me the absolute chills. She needs us. We are doing her a massive favor by keeping her around. She should be grateful."

My hands rested calmly in my lap.

What Nathan did not know was that his perception of me was a carefully constructed lie. I was not helpless. I was not a cripple. For the past year, while he was busy whispering sweet nothings into my sister's ear, I was busy learning how to live in the dark.

I learned to navigate our sprawling home in total silence. I memorized the cracked pavement of our neighborhood blocks. I learned to exist flawlessly without his guiding hand.

I let him believe I was dependent because it made him feel powerful. It kept him blind to my independence.

I reached into my clutch, my fingers tracing the smooth glass of my phone. I pulled it out, my thumb instinctively finding the side button. I tapped the screen twice. The voice-over accessibility feature activated, whispering directly into my wireless earpiece hidden beneath my hair.

I opened my messages. I scrolled to a number saved under a fake name: Dr. Evans.

The real name behind that number was Israel.

Israel was a ruthless billionaire. He commanded rooms without speaking. More importantly, he was Nathan’s biggest rival. They despised each other with a burning, destructive passion.

Months ago, at a charity gala, Israel cornered me. He warned me about Nathan. He told me Nathan was using me, that his love was a calculated performance. I

slapped Israel’s face that night. I defended my fiancé.

Israel just smiled, handed me his private card, and made a wager. He bet me that Nathan would betray me before the wedding day.

I slid my finger across the keyboard. The voice in my ear confirmed each letter as I typed.

I lost the bet.

I paused, taking a slow, measured breath. I thought of Nathan’s cruel words. I thought of Taylor’s mocking giggle. I thought of my eyes, currently looking at the world through the skull of a traitor.

I typed the next sentence.

Let's get married at the city hall next week.

I hit send.

I waited. The jazz music swelled.

My phone vibrated in my palm. The voice read the instant reply.

I'm outside.

A genuine smile touched my lips for the first time today. I stood up. I smoothed my ruined wedding gown. I gripped my cane—a prop I no longer truly needed, but one I carried for the illusion.

I stepped out of the dark corner and into the bright, crowded ballroom.

Ten paces forward. Turn right at the ice sculpture. Fifteen paces to the grand double doors.

I was almost there. I could feel the cool draft of the evening air slipping through the cracks of the doors. Suddenly, a foot shot out directly into my path.

I recognized the sharp scent of Taylor’s overly sweet perfume an instant before my shin connected with her stiletto.

"Oops," Taylor whispered, her voice a malicious hiss meant only for me.

I lost my balance. My cane clattered to the polished marble floor. I pitched forward, my hands flying out to catch myself.

I hit something hard. Something metallic. Something stacked dangerously high.

A deafening crash shattered the air.

Hundreds of crystal glasses exploded against the marble. The towering champagne pyramid collapsed in a spectacular, violent cascade of shattering glass and splashing liquid.

The cold champagne soaked through my silk dress, chilling my skin.

The jazz band stopped abruptly. The laughter died. The entire ballroom went dead silent. The only sound was the final, agonizing tinkle of broken crystal settling on the floor.

I was now on my knees, surrounded by a sea of jagged shards. My palms stung, warm blood mixing with the sticky champagne.

Then, I heard them.

Heavy, deliberate footsteps. They echoed loudly in the suffocating silence. They were moving fast. They were moving toward me.

It was Nathan.