12:41 PM c
Chapter 11%
BUT REAGAN ALWAYS thought he could control everything.
suppose he assumed this would be no different.
The bastard paid off the networks, used my father’s money to bury Dulcie’s exposé before it ever reached the public. He made sure to silence every whisper, scrub every trace. A corporate cremation of my truth–turning my carefully laid trap into ash}
Typical.!!
The media spun the narrative
ve instantly, like vultures in designer suits. Suddenly, the world was buzzing with perfectly timed snapshots of Reagan and Dulcie. “Power Couple of the Year.” “From Tragedy to Triumph.” “Second Chances for Billionaire Heartthrob.”
And the world? They ate it up with gold–plated forks.
I sat in the shadows of Salvatore’s estate, the screen glowing in front of me, a half–drained glass of wine clenched in my hand. The anchor’s voice chirped with sickly cheer–the kind of voice that pretended to deliver news but dealt in eulogies.
“Billionaire Reagan De Santis and fashion mogul Dulcie Belle announce their engagement in a lavish press conference today. The couple, known for their whirlwind romance, stunned the world with their love story.”
The screen cut to a live recording.
There he was. My ex–husband. Wearing my father’s vintage Rolex, standing in front of a building financed by my father’s will, smiling with that polished charm as if nothing he stood on had been stolen.&
And beside him?3
That snake in designer heels.
Quicio Belle giggled, kissed his cheek. The crowd roared like they’d witnessed a fairy tale !
Then came the question
> “And what about your late wife, Danica McKellar?“!
He didn’t even flinch. Just smirked. The same smirk he once gave me the first night he said I love you–back when I still believed in him.B
> “I loved her,” he said smoothly. “But I won’t mourn too long. Life moves forward. She’s gone. I’m still here,”
That was when something in me crystallized.
I didn’t cry I didn’t scream
I just froze. Not from sadness. But from something cleaner. Sharper. More honest.
Fury, Cold, calculated fury that settled in my marrow like winter
I stood slowly, placed the wine glass down on the table without a sound. The fire inside me no longer needed noise. It had become strategy.?
“I’m going to gut your kingdom with a smile, Reagan,” I whispered to no one but the air. “And I’ll let your queen bleed for it first.”
Later that evening, Salvatore dropped a thick black folder onto the steel table
“Everything you need,” he said simply.
I opened the file. Wedding blueprints. Reagan’s security detail Duple’s PR contracts, Surveillance photos. Hidden transactions. Bank accounts they never thought anyone would find.
Each page was a knife. And I was smiling.
“She paid off three editors this week just to call her iconic,” I murmured, flipping a page.)
Salvatore chuckled. “Her insecurities are loud. Even if she doesn’t know why yet.“!
“She’ll know soon I said. “On her wedding day, Reagan will meet me properly.”
He leaned closer. “What’s your move?”
I smiled. A slow, haunted thing.
“I’m going to haunt them in white.
The venue: a palace tumed five–star hotel in Europe.
Crystal chandeliers. Domed ceilings. Rose petals in fountains. A quartet played Mozart as guests paraded around in couture.
Security was air–tight. But it wasn’t built for ghosts. And I? I had long since died
I stepped from the black car into the courtyard like a whisper made flesh. My heels struck the marble like music, My dress–bridal white- stole the nights
It wasn’t a replica of Dulcie’s gown. It was a declaration.
Corseted silk, sleek as skin. A thigh–high slit, like a blade unsheathed. Sleeves shimmered with hand–stitched crystals. My hair, twisted high like a crown. My neck? Bare, except for the faint silver scars only one man in the crowd could recognize.
People turned.
Some stared. Others whispered.
But only one recognized me.
Reagan E
He stood across the garden, holding Dulcie’s hand, the perfect king in his borrowed castle. Laughing. Content Deluded.
Then nir vos mat His world free
#11
Then our eyes met. His world froze.
Dulcie tugged on his sleeve, “Babe, what’s wrong?”
But he didn’t hear her
He let go of her hand. Walked away
“Babe?” she called again. “Babe?”
She was a statue now. Abandoned before the altar. The crowd star
Reagan moved faster
started to murmură
“Danica!” he called out!
I turned. Met his eyes. Smiled. Then I walked. Not hurried. Not fleeing. Just walked.
He followed. Through the ballroom. Past startled guests. Down gilded halls. His voice echoing behind me.
“Donica!“M
I reached the end of the corridor. Turned the comer. Gone
The rooftop terrace overlooked the chaos
Dulcle was screaming at her wedding planner. Reagan was barking at his security team like a madman. Guests were whispering. scattering. The fairy tale was unraveling at the seams.!!
Salvatore’s voice buzzed in my ear
“Did he see you?”
Isipped champagne. Watched the fire spread.
“Oh, he saw me, I murmured. “And he’s going to wish he didn’t.“%
Hours later,
Dulcie entered her hotel suite, flanked by shaken staff. Her face was streaked with mascara. Her smile gone. There, resting on the velvet bedding, sat a single gift. A long black box. No card.
She opened it with trembling fingers.
Inside: A white rose. Dipped in blood.
And a handwritten note, folded once, in perfect script:
“A woman like you doesn’t get a happy ending.
You took mine. Now I take yours.”
- VI
At the bottom, in stark, red ink
Let the countdown begin.
