Prologue/ Chapter 1

Prologue

Joan’s POV

The first time my phone rang, I didn’t answer.

It was past midnight, and I was still wide awake, lying in the dark with my heart trying to slow itself down. I told myself it was just nerves. Tomorrow or today, technically I was getting married. The venue was set. My dress was pressed. My father had kissed my forehead three times before bed and whispered, “You’ve got this.”

So when my phone lit up for the second time with the same number I finally picked it up.

“Hello?”

There was silence on the other end. Muffled noise. A clink of glass. Then his voice came through, thick and slow like honey gone sour.

“I just wanted to say... I’m proud of you.”

I paused. “Who is this?”

He didn’t answer my question. Just kept talking.

“You made something real. You built something out of nothing. That’s rare, y’know? You’ve always been rare.”

My throat tightened. I knew that voice. I’d memorized it. Slept beside it. Built a life on it.

It was Darren.

But something about the way he spoke… it wasn’t right.

“I saw the sketches for the brand,” he went on, slurring just slightly. “You’ve got an eye, babe. It’s sharp. Clean. You’re gonna kill it.”

Brand?

I blinked. My breath stuttered.

“I mean it,” he continued. “You were always meant for something bigger. And I’m sorry… for all the ways I’ve made things hard. I didn’t know how to choose you then. But I do now.”

My skin prickled. Ice in my stomach.

He wasn’t talking about me.

I don’t have a clothing brand.

I never showed him sketches.

I don’t know what the hell he’s even—

“I love you,” he said softly. “You hear me?”

My heart stopped beating.

And then, like a knife through my spine,

“I love you, Vanessa.”

Silence.

Then the line went dead.

I didn’t move for a long time.

He thought I was her. Vanessa, his first love.

And that was the night before my wedding.

Chapter One

Joan’s POV – The Wedding That Never Was

The aisle was longer than I remembered.

Soft music filled the hall. strings, light piano, just enough to hush the crowd and steady my steps. My father’s arm was firm beneath mine. I kept my eyes forward, locked on the man standing at the end of that aisle.

Darren.

He looked like a promise in a tux. Sharp. Clean-cut. His smile wide and unshakable reached me before I even reached him. And for a moment, just a single, fragile moment, I forgot about the way he sounded on the phone last night. I forgot about the ache in my chest I hadn’t been able to explain.

Because he was smiling like he’d waited his whole life to see me in white.

And I let myself believe it.

We’d been together for five years. Engaged for almost two. There had been delays, careers, politics, timing. But we made it here. We made it today. And if there’s one thing I’d learned from watching my father build a life out of grease and hard work, it’s that some things are worth waiting for.

As we reached the altar, my father gently placed my hand in Darren’s. His touch held on for just a second longer than expected, like he didn’t want to let go.

Maybe he knew.

Maybe some part of him already saw the fracture I hadn’t yet felt.

Darren squeezed my fingers. I looked up into his eyes and smiled. He smiled back.

Everything around us faded. The flowers. The lights. The rows of guests. It was just me and him.

The priest cleared his throat and began.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

I tuned out most of the words. I’d read the vows a hundred times. Practiced my promises until they felt like second nature. Everything was going smoothly. Everything was perfect.

Until the priest asked the question.

“If there is anyone here who objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

And then a voice from the back.

Clear. Loud. Icy.

“I object.”

The room turned. My chest locked. Every cell in my body stopped moving.

The doors swung open.

She walked in like she owned the building. A silk gown. Designer heels. Hair that had no business being that flawless at a wedding she wasn’t invited to.

Vanessa.

I didn’t know her personally, but I’d seen her. At events. In Darren’s circles. Too familiar. Too bold. Too perfect. I’d always told myself I was being paranoid.

She looked directly at Darren. Not me. Never me.

“I object because I’m carrying his child,” she said, her voice slicing through the silence like a blade.

Gasps rippled through the room. My knees buckled slightly, but I didn’t fall. Not yet.

I turned to Darren.

He didn’t say anything.

Not immediately. Not even a denial.

He just looked… gutted.

Caught.

And then worst of all guilty.

My hand slipped out of his.

“Darren?” My voice was paper-thin.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then stepped forward toward her.

The whispering grew louder. My vision blurred.

“No,” I said, holding him while shaking my head. “No. This isn’t—this isn’t happening.”

Darren turned back, his eyes barely meeting mine.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Just that.

No explanation. No fight. Just those two useless words.

I didn’t realize I was crying until I tasted salt on my lips.

My father moved beside me, trying to steady me, whispering something I couldn’t hear over the ringing in my ears.

The flowers blurred. The walls swayed. Someone in the audience gasped. Someone else stood. Cameras clicked.

But I didn’t move.

The room didn’t breathe.

My vision blurred, but I kept staring at Darren.

He didn’t look at me. He didn’t say anything. Just… stared at the floor. The man who smiled at me moments ago, the man I thought I knew after five long years, couldn’t even lift his eyes.

I couldn’t believe it. No, I refused to. Not here. Not like this.

I blinked hard and turned to him. My voice came out smaller than I expected, fragile and cracked.

“Darren…” I paused, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “We can still do this. I forgive you. I’m willing to move past this if you are.”

That got his attention. His eyes snapped up startled, almost guilty.

“We’ve been through worse,” I said softly, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Let’s not let this… mistake ruin everything. I know you love me.”

The crowd murmured. My father shifted beside me, but said nothing. His silence felt like disappointment.

Darren glanced at Vanessa, then back at me. For a moment, just a breath of a second, I thought I saw something soften in his face and that was all I needed to keep standing.

The officiant, clearly rattled, cleared his throat and looked between us.

“Shall we… proceed?” he asked, hesitantly.

Darren didn’t answer. I gave the tiniest nod.

And so, the ceremony continued. Like a corpse being walked through its own funeral.

My hand stayed in Darren’s, limp and cold. My heart pounded against the cage of my ribs, screaming that this wasn’t right. That I should walk away. But my legs wouldn’t move. My pride held me in place, daring me not to fall apart in front of the cameras, the whispers, the eyes.

The officiant raised the book again.

“By the power vested in me…”

It was right there, right there when Darren pulled his hand from mine.

“I can’t,”