Planning Dream Weddings to Fund My Funeral

Beatrice's POV

"45 grand," Lucas Wright sneered. "Do you really think you're worth that much?"

Ignoring the ache swelling in my chest, I crumpled the bloodied tissue in my fist and looked up at him. "Yes, Mr. Wright. I think your wedding is worth that much."

This time around, without me holding him back, he had already risen to the top of the industry through his exceptional talent for architectural design and his sharp business acumen. Hence, 45 grand was nothing to him.

Lucas froze for a fraction of a second, his eyes flaring with anger. Without warning, he grabbed my wrist. "You really haven't changed, have you? You're still as calculating as ever."

Excruciating pain shot through the needle-riddled skin of my wrist, and I couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath. I wrenched my hand from his grip and said, "Mr. Wright, if you don't think I'm up to the task, you're free to hire someone else. However, please keep your hands to yourself in public."

The moment those words rolled off my tongue, he stared at me in disgust. "You're a wedding planner who ran off with my engagement gift on the eve of your own wedding. Who in their right mind would hire you?"

He dredged up our history with a single sentence. Even though seven long years had passed, his voice was still laced with raw, unsuppressed animosity. After all, I was the one who had betrayed him.

A lump formed in my throat, yet I plastered a professional smile on my face. I acted as if nothing was wrong and held out my business card with both hands. "That's all right. If you ever need my services in the future, feel free to contact me."

Lucas fell silent, his brow furrowed and his jawline tight. I knew that look all too well.

In my previous life, every time my chemotherapy results came back bad, he would step out of the doctor's office with that exact look on his face. However, as soon as he reached my bedside, his expression would change. He'd flash me a smile and reassure me, "It's okay. We'll figure something out."

At the time, I was suffering from stomach cancer, yet my heart was the one that hurt the most.

In my final moments, I'd sworn countless times that in this life, the next, and all the lives that followed, I would never let him wear that look again. Now, it was time to keep my word.

Silence stretched between us, but he still refused to take my business card. Enduring the agonizing pain churning in my stomach, I was about to excuse myself and leave when Selene Beaumont broke the silence, a smile on her lips. "Lucas, is this your ex-fiancée?"

Her gaze leisurely swept over me as if she was looking at a poorly crafted trinket. Then, she scoffed. "Isn't she just asking for 45 grand? Let's just give it to her. After all, you can make that back in just a few days.

She continued, addressing me, "These days, none of the gifts he gives me are worth less than 150 grand. Too bad you didn't realize what a catch you had, Ms. Cross. Back then, you ruthlessly abandoned him. If you hadn't, you wouldn't be reduced to scheming over such a small amount of money now."