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"I'm not marrying Ethan Kingsley."

Olivia Bennett's voice was calm.

Too calm.

The words settled over the bridal suite like fresh snow, quiet and impossible, until every sound disappeared.

The hairstylist froze with a curling iron in her hand.

The makeup artist stopped blending foundation.

Even the photographer lowered his camera.

Emma looked up so quickly that the stack of handwritten place cards slipped from her lap and scattered across the floor.

"What?"

Olivia didn't repeat herself.

She simply reached up, unclasped the diamond engagement ring from her finger, and placed it on the white marble vanity.

The soft click echoed through the room.

"I'm leaving."

For one long second, nobody moved.

Then the hairstylist laughed nervously.

"Oh, that's a good one."

Nobody joined her.

Emma pushed herself to her feet.

"Liv..."

Olivia turned to face her younger sister.

There wasn't a trace of panic in her expression.

No tears.

No trembling hands.

Just certainty, the kind that made everything around it look frantic by comparison.

"I can't marry him."

Emma searched her face, waiting for the smile that always came after one of Olivia's dramatic jokes.

It never came.

Outside the suite, applause drifted faintly through the hallway as another limousine pulled up beneath the hotel's grand entrance.

Guests were arriving.

Five hundred of them.

New York's business elite. Politicians. Actors. Models.

The press had been broadcasting live from the hotel since sunrise.

By noon, Olivia Bennett was supposed to become Mrs. Ethan Kingsley.

Instead, she picked up a small cream-colored suitcase standing beside the wardrobe.

Emma's stomach dropped.

"Why is that packed?"

Olivia didn't answer.

"Liv."

"I'm sorry."

The apology landed harder than the announcement.

Emma felt the blood drain from her face.

"You planned this."

Silence.

"You planned to leave."

"I didn't know if I'd have the courage."

"So you've been lying to everyone."

"I was lying to myself first."

Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"You've spent eleven months planning this wedding."

"I know."

"You chose the dress."

"I know."

"You wrote your vows."

Olivia's throat worked. "I know."

"You love him."

At that, Olivia finally looked away.

"No."

The single word knocked the air from Emma's lungs.

"No?"

"I wanted to."

"You accepted his proposal."

"I thought love would come later."

Emma stared at her sister as though she'd become a stranger.

"You don't marry the most eligible billionaire in New York hoping you'll fall in love afterward."

Olivia gave a sad smile.

"A lot of people do."

Emma had no answer.

Because she knew Olivia wasn't entirely wrong.

For years, magazines had called Ethan Kingsley America's most eligible bachelor. Cold. Brilliant. Private. Worth billions.

Every woman wanted him.

Except, apparently, the woman he'd chosen.

A knock sounded at the door. Three brisk taps.

"Miss Bennett?" the wedding coordinator called. "The florist needs to know if the white orchids should be moved into the ballroom now."

Emma looked toward the door.

Then back at Olivia.

"Answer her."

"I can't."

Emma crossed the room and caught her sister's wrist, as if she could hold her there by force of grip alone.

"You have to."

Olivia looked down at Emma's hand on her arm, and something in her face broke, just for a second, before it closed again.

"I won't."

Another knock.

"Miss Bennett?"

Olivia gripped the suitcase handle tighter.

"Please."

Emma lowered her voice.

"Don't do this."

"I have to."

"Tell me why."

"I can't."

"Is there someone else?"

Olivia hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second.

It was enough.

Emma's stomach twisted.

"There is."

Olivia closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

The room tilted.

Emma suddenly understood.

This wasn't cold feet.

This wasn't panic.

Her sister had already left the relationship long before she tried to leave the room.

The knock came again, louder this time.

"Miss Bennett?"

Olivia walked past Emma.

Emma caught her arm.

"You walk out that door, and you destroy this family."

Her voice cracked.

Olivia gently removed Emma's hand.

"I know."

Then she opened the door.

And walked out.

Emma stood frozen.

She told herself Olivia would come back. She had to. She couldn't really be leaving. Not today. Not now. Not with the entire city waiting downstairs.

Then she noticed something on the vanity.

A folded envelope.

Her father's name was written across the front.

Emma's heartbeat quickened.

With trembling fingers, she reached for it.

Before she could open it, the suite door burst open.

Her father stumbled inside, breathing hard.

His eyes swept across the room. The empty chair. The untouched wedding dress. The open doorway.

Then they landed on the suitcase that wasn't there anymore.

His face turned white.

Slowly, almost afraid of the answer, he looked at Emma.

"Where's your sister?"