The Bride He Cast Away on Their Wedding Night

"Claire, that car crash three years ago—and the guys who tried to kidnap you last night—it's the same group! Listen to me. Right now, all clues are pointing straight at your adoptive parents... and Nelson Cooper."

Hearing the name Nelson, Claire Thompson's breath caught in her throat.

Sunlight poured through the window, bright and warm. But all she felt was a chill crawling over her skin.

"Nelson?" she murmured, echoing the name.

Adrian on the other end sounded pissed. "I'm telling you, don't even think of giving that jerk the benefit of the doubt."

Her voice came out rough, like she had to force the words, "I get it. I just think... for now, we can't jump to any actions."

Adrian's voice rose. "They tried to kill you, Claire. Twice! Don't tell me you're still going soft on them."

"I'm not," she said quietly, a hint of frustration in her tone. "But we've got nothing solid—just vague leads. Plus, Nelson and I are technically still married. If I stir things up now, the fallout will be huge."

"Then divorce him," Adrian snapped. "Cut ties clean, then we can do what needs to be done."

"I plan to," Claire said, closing her eyes for a moment. "That's why I came back. But Adrian, until it's official, we have to keep everything under wraps."

Silence hung for a beat.

Claire added softly, "If the Thompsons find out I'm actually from the Fields family... things could get messy fast. I won't drag our family into this just because of old grudges."

Adrian let out a deep sigh. "You're family, Claire. It's our job to protect you. No questions asked."

"That's why I need you to hold off," she replied, her voice gentler, almost pleading. "Let me handle it first. I just want to get out of this without making a bigger mess."

"…Fine. Your call. But promise me, stay away from Nelson."

"I will," she said. "Once I'm divorced, I'm coming home."

She had barely hung up when the knock came..

Knock, knock.

Only one other person had a key besides the housekeeper. And he wouldn't knock—not unless he wanted something.

Claire frowned, didn't move.

Another pause—then the knock came again, sharper, more insistent..

"Claire." A deep male voice called through the door. Calm, unreadable. "Open up."

She walked over and placed her hand on the doorknob, and then—deliberately slow—twisted it, pulling the door open just a crack.

Nelson stood there, dressed in a sharp charcoal-gray suit, not a wrinkle in sight, posture straight as ever.

Three years, and somehow he looked exactly the same.

His eyes rested on her face for a moment. A barely-there frown flickered across his brow.

"What were you doing? You've been in there a while."

His tone was flat, casual.

"Packing," Claire replied, shifting slightly to the side, but didn't fully open the door. No invitation in her stance.

Nelson glanced past her at the suitcase, then back. She wore a plain beige sweater, her hair loosely tied, neck pale and exposed. Thinner than three years ago, the youth in her eyes gone, replaced by a calm that felt alien to him—unfamiliar and vaguely irritating.

"Serena's birthday dinner is tomorrow night," Nelson said, skipping any preamble. "I'll pick you up at five."

Claire looked up at him. His face was expressionless, a routine obligation. She'd been prepared for this. Still, a sharp sting crept across her chest.

She took a tiny breath, managed a faint, eyeless smile. "Sure. Do I need to prepare anything?"

Nelson's brows drew slightly tighter. He'd expected hurt. Her calm threw him off.

"No," he replied stiffly. "Just show up. That's enough."

"Got it," Claire nodded, tone steady. "Anything else?"

He studied her in silence. "No," he muttered, turning away. "Just be ready."

Claire kept smiling until he was out of sight. Then she slowly closed the door and leaned back against it, the cold surface amplifying the weight in her body.

Serena's birthday was hers, too.

But Nelson had never mentioned it. Not once.

She shut her eyes. Unwanted memories started playing on a loop inside her head.

Three years ago, Serena Thompson was brought home.

The real daughter of the Thompson family, missing for twenty years, dragging along a history of emotional trauma.

And Claire—the stand-in—instantly fell into an awkward, unwanted position.

Everyone hovered around Serena, caring, comforting, making up for lost time.

Nelson included—the same man who was supposed to marry her.

Their engagement had been arranged by Old Mr. Cooper, made years ago, intended for the daughter of the Thompson family.

While Serena was gone, that title belonged to Claire.

But once Serena came back, everything flipped upside down.

Old Mr. Cooper, however, stunned everyone before he passed—he insisted on the marriage going ahead.

He'd held her hand and told Nelson, "Claire's a good girl. Take care of her."

Claire and Nelson had known each other since childhood. They grew up together, and Claire had once imagined their wedding, and a lifetime by his side.

But afterwards, when Serena learned about the wedding, she locked herself in her room and refused to eat or drink. The mere mention of Claire's name would send her into a frantic, self-destructive rage. Yet, in bitter irony, she remained perfectly calm—as long as Nelson stayed by her side.

On her wedding night, Claire never expected her joy to be met with Nelson's icy words:

"The ceremony is over. You'll leave the country tomorrow. I've arranged everything. We'll talk once Serena is better."But that talk never came. He never called. Never checked in.

Outside the door, Nelson had reached the stairs. But something made him stop.

He turned and glanced back.

That sinking, out-of-control feeling was creeping up on him again, and it ticked him off.

With a dark look, he turned sharply and strode off.