Chapter 3

I didn't sleep. Not a single minute.

I sat in that chair by the window all night, watching the sunrise paint the sky in shades of pink and gold. The same colors I'd chosen for my wedding bouquet. The same colors that were supposed to represent hope and new beginnings.

What a fucking joke.

My phone had been buzzing constantly—texts from Braden that I hadn't bothered to read. The preview lines were all the same: "Good morning, beautiful," "Can't wait to marry you today," "You're going to be the most stunning bride."

Each message felt like a knife twisting deeper.

At exactly 9 AM, my doorbell rang. I heard footsteps in the hallway—light, quick, professional. The makeup artist. Right on schedule for what was supposed to be the most important day of my life.

I stood up slowly, my joints stiff from sitting motionless for hours. In the mirror by the door, I looked like hell. Dark circles under my eyes, skin pale as paper, hair a tangled mess.

"Good morning, Audrey!" The makeup artist—Miranda, I think her name was—bustled in with her arsenal of brushes and powders. "Ready to transform into a princess?"

I forced a smile. "More ready than I've ever been."

The irony wasn't lost on me.

For the next hour, I sat perfectly still while Miranda worked her magic. She chattered constantly about wedding traditions, about how lucky I was to have found such a devoted man, about how she'd never seen a couple more in love.

"I just need to grab my contouring kit from the car," Miranda said, checking her phone. "Don't move a muscle! We're almost done, and then it's time for the dress!"

The moment she left, I moved.

Years of living with partial hearing loss had taught me to be quick and silent when I needed to be.

I peeled off the silk robe Miranda had insisted I wear for "the full bridal experience" and grabbed the clothes I'd laid out in my closet: dark jeans, a black hoodie, and my most comfortable sneakers. The outfit of someone who needed to disappear, not someone getting married.

From my jewelry box, I pulled out the engagement ring—two carats of princess-cut diamond that had once made me feel like the luckiest woman alive. Now it felt like a shackle.

I placed it carefully on the pillow next to my wedding dress.

The dress itself hung there like a ghost, white and pristine and full of broken dreams. I touched the fabric one last time, remembering how beautiful I'd felt trying it on. How Braden had insisted on the most expensive one in the boutique.

'For his image,' I realized now. 'Everything was always for his image.'

Time to go.

I slipped out the back door of my apartment building, pulling my hood up as I walked quickly toward the street. Behind me, I could hear Miranda calling my name, confusion evident in her voice.

"Audrey? Audrey, where are you?"

I didn't look back.

---

By 11 AM, I was sitting in the back of a Greyhound bus, watching Los Angeles disappear through the tinted window. My phone had exploded with calls and texts, but I'd turned off the ringer and location services. The only sound was the low rumble of the engine and the whispered conversations of other passengers.

I imagined the scene at St. Mary's Church. Braden in his custom tuxedo, checking his Rolex every thirty seconds. Guests filling the pews, murmuring about whether the bride was just running late or if something was seriously wrong.

My phone lit up with another call from Braden.

This time, instead of declining, I answered.

"Audrey!" Braden's voice was tight with barely controlled panic. "Thank God, where are you? Everyone's here waiting, the priest is getting worried, your makeup artist said you just disappeared—"

"I'm not coming, Braden."

Silence.

"What do you mean you're not coming? Audrey, this isn't funny. You're probably just nervous, that's totally normal—"

"I heard the recording."

"What recording? Baby, I don't know what you're talking about—"

"The one from your bachelor party. Where you called me a pet. Where you talked about fucking me while thinking about Scarlett."

I heard him suck in a sharp breath. When he spoke again, his voice had completely changed—colder, sharper, like a mask had been ripped away.

"Who sent you that? Was it Marcus? That fucking asshole can't keep his mouth shut—"

"Does it matter who sent it? It's your voice, Braden. Your words."

"Audrey, listen to me." His tone shifted again, becoming pleading. "I was drunk, I was just talking shit to impress the guys. You know how bachelor parties are—"

"Ten years," I interrupted. "Ten years of thinking I was loved. Ten years of being your charity case."

"That's not—you're not—" He was stumbling over his words now. "Audrey, you're being ridiculous. Get back here right now. Do you have any idea how this looks? Everyone's here, the church is full, the photographer—"

"I don't care how it looks."

"Well I do!" His voice exploded through the phone, loud enough that other passengers turned to look. "Do you know what you're doing to me? To my family? We've spent forty thousand dollars on this wedding!"

There it was. The real Braden Carter, the one I'd been hearing snippets of for years but had trained myself to ignore.

"I'm not your pet, Braden."

"You're damn right you're not!" he snarled. "A pet would be grateful for everything I've done for you! A pet wouldn't humiliate me in front of everyone I know!"

I felt oddly calm listening to him lose control. This was who he really was when he didn't have to perform the role of devoted caretaker.

"You humiliated yourself the moment you decided to lie to me for ten years."

"Lie? I never lied to you! I've been nothing but devoted—"

"You called me a social responsibility. You said taking care of disabled people makes you look good."

"It does! And you should be grateful instead of throwing it back in my face like some spoiled brat!"

The mask was completely off now. No more sweet pet names, no more gentle voice. Just raw, ugly truth.

"Where are you?" he demanded. "I'm coming to get you. We're going to fix this."

"No, we're not."

"Audrey, I swear to God, if you don't tell me where you are right now—"

I hung up.

My phone immediately started ringing again. This time, I silenced my phone.

Through the window, I watched California countryside roll past. Somewhere behind me, a church full of people was probably starting to realize that the bride wasn't coming. That the perfect love story everyone had admired for years was nothing but a performance.