I woke up to white walls and the steady beep of machines. My body felt heavy. Wrong. Like something vital had been carved out of me.

"Ms. Hale." A nurse appeared beside my bed, her expression sympathetic. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

I tried to speak, but my throat was raw. Dry. She handed me water. I drank slowly, fragments of memory crashing back.

The locked room. The darkness. The walls closing in.

Killian's voice outside the door: "Stay in there until you're ready to admit what you did."

I'd screamed. Begged. Pounded on the door until my fists bled. My claustrophobia had kicked in—the walls shrinking, the air thinning, my chest constricting until I couldn't breathe.

I'd collapsed. And then... nothing.

"The baby," I whispered suddenly, my hand flying to my stomach.

The nurse's face fell. "I'm so sorry. You miscarried. The stress and trauma to your body—"

The rest of her words faded into static. The baby was gone. I should've felt relief. I'd scheduled an abortion anyway. But instead, I felt hollow. Empty. Like the last piece of me that mattered had been ripped away.

"There's someone here to see you," the nurse said gently.

Before I could respond, the door opened.

Killian walked in, his expression unreadable. He stood at the foot of my bed, hands in his pockets, studying me like I was a problem to be solved.

"You're awake," he said flatly.

I said nothing.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Grandma's stable. No permanent damage. The doctors said it was just a reaction to her medication."

Still, I remained silent.

"Amber." His voice hardened. "I need you to do something. For Grandma. For us."

I finally looked at him. "What?"

"Apologize," he said. "To Mandie. To Grandma. For everything."

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "Apologize?"

"Yes." He stepped closer. "Grandma still wants this wedding to happen. She still believes in you. God knows why." His eyes narrowed. "So you're going to apologize to Mandie for your behavior. You're going to apologize to Grandma for the stress you caused. And you're going to pull yourself together."

Each word was a knife.

"And if I don't?" I whispered.

His smile was cold. "Then you lose everything. The wedding. The support. The life you've built. Everything."

I stared at him—this stranger wearing the face of the man I thought I loved.

"Okay," I said quietly.

He blinked, surprised. "Okay?"

"I'll apologize," I said. "I'll do whatever you want."

Something flickered in his expression. Relief, maybe. Or satisfaction. And he walked out.

Later that day, Grandma Rosie visited. She shuffled into the room with her cane, her face pale but kind. When she saw me, her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, Amber," she whispered, sitting beside my bed and taking my hand. "My sweet girl. I'm so sorry for everything you've been through."

The kindness broke something in me. Tears spilled down my cheeks.

"I didn't hurt you, Grandma," I choked out. "I swear—I would never—"

"Shh, I know." She squeezed my hand gently. "I know, dear. You saved my life once. You would never harm me."

Her words were a balm to my shattered heart.

"But Killian—" I started.

"Killian is confused," she said softly. "He's under a lot of stress. But he loves you. And this wedding will happen. I'll make sure of it."

I wanted to tell her the truth. About Killian. About Ken. About Mandie. About everything. But no, not yet as I planned to ruin them before I'm gone.

So I nodded. "Okay, Grandma."

She smiled, relief washing over her face. "That's my girl."

I whispered, "I'm sorry, grandma."

After she left, I lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling.

And for the first time in weeks, my mind cleared. I'd been so focused on surviving—on enduring—that I'd forgotten something crucial.

I had a choice.

Over the next two days, I worked quietly.

I requested my medical records. The ones showing the wrong medication Killian had been giving me. The ones proving someone had been slowly poisoning me.

I called my bank and discovered that Killian had been transferring small amounts from the joint account Grandma set up for us. Money meant for our future. Money going straight to an account under Mandie's name.

I dug deeper. Found photos. Receipts. Hotel bookings under Killian's name with Mandie listed as his companion.

And then I found the most damning evidence of all—an old email chain between Killian and Ken, their plan to useme because their own grandma favors me more than them.

My hands shook as I read. Every word confirmed what I already knew but couldn't bear to accept.

I'd been a pawn. A tool. A means to an end.

And they'd all been playing me.

I also made sure to include the pregnancy test, the paper proving I lost the baby, and my mother's certificate. All which he never cared.

On the third day, I made a phone call.

"Professor Chen?" My voice was steady. Calm.

"Amber!" His warm voice came through the line. "It's been months! How are you?"

"I'm calling about the volunteer program," I said. "The medical mission to Africa. Is the position still available?"

A pause. "Yes, actually. We lost our last volunteer, so we're still looking for someone. But Amber, that's a two-year commitment. Minimum. Are you sure—"

"I'm sure," I interrupted. "I want to go. As soon as possible."

The wedding day arrived with perfect weather—clear skies, golden sunlight, everything Grandma Rosie had dreamed of.

I stood in my apartment, staring at the wedding dress hanging on the closet door. Pristine white silk. A dress chosen by someone else. For a wedding that was always a lie.

My phone buzzed. A message from Killian—or maybe Ken. I couldn't tell anymore. Didn't care anymore.

Car will pick you up at 2 PM. Don't be late.

I didn't respond. Instead, I picked up my suitcase—already packed, already waiting—and called a cab.

"Airport, please," I told the driver.

As we pulled away, I took one last look at the apartment. At the life I was leaving behind.

I felt nothing.

At the airport, I checked in for my flight to Nairobi. First leg of my journey to the medical mission in rural Africa. Two years. Maybe more. Maybe forever.

"Your flight boards in two hours, Ms. Hale," the attendant said cheerfully.

Two hours. The exact time my wedding was supposed to start.

I found a quiet corner in the terminal, pulled out my tablet, and opened the livestream link Grandma's assistant had sent to all the guests.

Wedding of Killian Harrington and Amber Hale

Live Now

I clicked it.

The garden venue appeared on screen—decorated exactly as Grandma wanted. White roses everywhere. String lights. An elegant arch covered in flowers.

Guests filled the seats. I recognized Killian's relatives, family friends, business associates.

And there, in the front row, sat Grandma Rosie. Her face glowing with joy despite her frail health. Her hands clasped together in anticipation.

My chest ached.

The music started. The processional. And then he appeared.

Killian—or Ken, I realized—walking down the aisle in a perfect tuxedo. He smiled at Grandma, waved to guests, played the role of the eager groom.

But his eyes were empty. Mechanical.

The officiant took his place. "We are gathered here today..."

I watched my supposed to be husband stand at the altar, waiting for a bride who would never come.

Waited for someone to realize I wasn't there.

But minutes passed. The camera focused on Grandma. On the livestream, the event coordinator hurried toward Grandma, carrying the white box. She leaned down, whispering something.

Grandma's face shifted—confusion, then concern. She reached for the box with trembling hands.

The camera stayed on Ken at the altar. He checked his watch, frowning. Guests began to murmur.

"Where's the bride?" someone whispered, loud enough for the camera to catch.

Grandma opened the box. Pulled out the documents.

I watched her face change. Confusion turned to shock. Shock turned to horror.

She read page after page, her hands shaking violently. Her face drained of all color.

"No," she whispered. The microphone barely caught it. "No, this can't—"

Ken noticed the commotion. He stepped down from the altar, walking toward her. "Grandma? What's wrong?"

She looked up at him—really looked at him—and something in her expression shattered.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice breaking.

Ken froze.

"Who are you?" she repeated, louder now. She stood, clutching the papers. It seemed that due to Ken always being away, she truly couldn't distinguish between the two of them. Ken was also good at imitating Killian's behavior that he even fooled me!

"Where is Killian? The real Killian?"

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Ken's face went pale. "Grandma, I can explain—"

"You've been lying to me," she said, her voice cracking with betrayal. "Both of you. All this time."

She swayed. Stumbled.

"Grandma!" Ken reached for her, but she jerked away.

"Don't touch me," she gasped. Her hand flew to her chest. "Don't—"

Her knees buckled. She collapsed. Screams erupted. Guests rushed forward. Someone shouted for an ambulance.

The camera shook, caught glimpses of chaos—people crying, shouting, crowding around Grandma's unconscious body.

Ken stood frozen, his face ashen.

And somewhere, I knew Killian was with Mandie, completely unaware that his world was burning down.

"Final boarding call for Flight 237 to Nairobi."

The announcement jolted me back to reality. I closed the tablet, my hands numb.

Grandma had fainted. Maybe worse. Her weak heart couldn't take the shock.

Guilt twisted in my stomach. But beneath it was something else.

Relief. She knew the truth now. She'd never force me to marry a man who didn't love me. She'd never unknowingly bless a union built on lies.

I stood, shouldering my bag, and walked toward the gate.

As I handed my boarding pass to the attendant, my phone exploded with messages.

Killian: WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?

Killian: WHAT DID YOU DO?

Killian: GRANDMA COLLAPSED BECAUSE OF YOU

Killian: YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET THIS

Ken: Amber, please. Call me. Grandma's in the hospital.

Unknown numbers. Relatives. Friends.

All of them demanding answers. Hurling accusations. Begging me to come back.

I turned off my phone.

"Enjoy your flight, Ms. Hale," the attendant said warmly.

I stepped onto the jet bridge, my heart pounding.

Behind me was everything I'd ever known—the life I'd built, the people I'd loved, the dreams I'd clung to.

Ahead was the unknown. A new country. A new purpose. A chance to become someone who wasn't defined by the men who broke her.

As the plane taxied down the runway, I looked out the window one last time.

The city grew smaller. The life I was leaving behind faded into the distance.

And when the wheels left the ground, I finally let myself breathe.