Chapter 1

Prologue

I loved Julian Sterling for eight long years. For eight years, I genuinely believed I would one day become his bride.

Until I ran straight into his wife, Vivian.

Not only had they been married for three years, but they also had a three-year-old son together.

Even more sickening, Julian—desperate to keep both sides happy—actually had his identical twin brother, Christian, impersonate him just to spend time with me.

At that moment, I finally realized that my eight years of devoted love had been nothing more than a private, humiliating joke.

Yet fate wasn’t done breaking me.

Soon after, I found out I was pregnant, only to be diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy. The baby I had secretly dreamed of holding was ripped away from me forever on an operating table.

Three days later, Julian fell to his knees in tears, swearing he would marry me and give our child a real home.

He had no idea that our baby was already gone.

And I no longer wanted any part of his future.

This time, I was going to tear down this eight-year lie with my own two hands.

Serena’s POV

I was with Julian Sterling for eight years.

During those eight years, I helped him build his business empire and planned dozens of fairy-tale weddings for other couples.

Everyone in our circle assumed we would eventually tie the knot. I was foolish enough to believe it, too.

Until I ran into Vivian Montgomery backstage at a luxury wedding I had planned.

The corridor was narrow. I took three quick strides and blocked her path.

"Are you Vivian?"

Vivian didn't flinch. She reached calmly into her designer bag, pulled out her phone, unlocked the screen, and held it up to my face.

It was a wedding portrait.

Julian and Vivian sat side by side, beaming with picture-perfect, flawless smiles.

"We've been married for three years," she said smoothly. "Didn't he mention that to you?"

My fingernails dug painfully into my palms.

Vivian swiped to the next photo, then the next. They were all Sterling family portraits at private galas.

Vivian was sitting right next to Julian, an antique heirloom bracelet gleaming on her wrist.

"This bracelet is passed down only to the legitimate wife of the Sterling family heir," she murmured. "Miss Vance, you're looking for answers from the wrong person."

A few stagehands carrying lighting rigs stopped in their tracks, throwing curious glances in our direction.

My face burned as if I’d been slapped in public.

I had come here to demand the truth, only to have reality brutally shatter my dignity.

I turned around, ducked into the deepest storage room backstage, slammed the door shut, and slid down against the cold concrete floor.

The temporary partition walls were practically paper-thin.

Vivian’s voice drifted in from the hallway as she made a call: "She won't cause a scene. She has no legal standing whatsoever. She's always come second."

Right after, Julian’s muffled voice came through the speaker: "Her status is meaningless. She was always second."

I leaned against the wall, my whole body trembling with cold.

Out in the grand ballroom, the bride and groom were reading their vows. The officiant's voice echoed faintly through the wood panels.

Curled up on the floor, it suddenly hit me: I had organized hundreds of weddings, yet I hadn't even figured out where I stood in my own life.

I sat in that dark room until the reception ended, then drove back to my design studio alone.

I flipped on the lights. The place felt dead and hollow.

Sitting at my drafting table, I began peeling back every detail of the last eight years.

Julian never stayed the night until morning; he always claimed he had an early board meeting.

He never introduced me to his parents, always making the excuse that the timing wasn't right.

His phone had double biometric locks.

Every single time he claimed to be away on a business trip, Vivian's Instagram posted location tags in the exact same city.

I scrolled down to an Instagram post Vivian had made three years ago. My thumb froze.

It was a close-up of a newborn’s tiny hand.

Further down were candid snapshots of Julian cradling the infant in his arms, documenting the little boy's milestones day by day.

He had a three-year-old son.

Yet Julian had looked into my eyes countless times and swore he had never been a father.

My hand instinctively drifted to my lower stomach.

My period was ten days late. The pregnancy test I had bought was still sitting in my drawer, unopened.

My thoughts went to my late mother.

When she was young, she gave her heart to a man who kept her hidden, waiting over a decade until she died in bitter regret.

On her deathbed, she gripped my hand and pleaded with me never to walk down her path.

And here I was, stepping right into the exact same quicksand.

I shook with agony. Every shred of logic told me to walk away immediately, but eight years of sunk cost felt like thick ropes strangling my throat.

Three days later, Vivian invited me for coffee at a private restaurant.

She poured me a cup of tea and mentioned that the Sterling family was hosting an important banquet this Saturday. Julian was expected to attend with his wife and son.

"I’ll give you one fair chance," Vivian said. "Call him on Saturday and demand that he spend the day with you."

"If he actually shows up at your door, I will walk away without a fight. But if he doesn't, pack your things and disappear from his life."

My hands shook as I held the teacup.

I remembered Julian's favorite promise: he always said I was his one true love, that once the timing was right, he would make everything right with me.

What if, just this once, he actually chose me over his family duty?

Staring at the tea leaves settled at the bottom of the cup, I nodded.

Stepping out into the blinding sunlight, I realized with bitter irony that I was still clinging to a pathetic shred of hope.