Tearing my couture wedding gown to shreds, shattering a seven-year vow.

On the day of my wedding dress fitting, a strange woman stormed into the VIP suite of Éclat Bridal on New York's Fifth Avenue, shattering my fairy-tale dream with a splash of champagne.

She tore my gown to shreds, her face twisted in rage. "You're just a gold digger trying to climb the social ladder. You don't deserve a dress this beautiful!"

A shard from the shattered champagne bottle pierced my abdomen, and I collapsed in agony.

She grabbed my hair, slapped me hard across the face, and roared, "Julian promised he would marry me! You're nothing but a homewrecker!"

As blood stained my dress, the truth crashed down on me. My boyfriend of seven years had been deceiving me all along.

"You still dare to glare at me? My man is a titan in this city. I could kill you right now, and no one would lift a finger!" she taunted.

With one blood-soaked hand, I pulled out my phone and dialed my brother. "Wyatt, come get me at Éclat Bridal," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "And tell the Monroes the wedding is off."

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1

I hung up the phone, the intense pain burning through me like a wildfire. My mind was a maelstrom of chaos, drowned out only by the frantic pounding of my heart.

Searing pain shot from my abdomen, where shards of glass were embedded in my flesh. Every breath felt like it was ripping the gash wider, sending fresh waves of torture through my body.

My trembling fingers scrabbled for purchase on a nearby clothing rack as Tessa Shaw loomed over me, a vicious glint in her eyes.

"What, calling for backup?" she sneered, her voice sharp with mockery.

The surrounding crowd of socialites snickered, their faces masks of smug judgment. The flash of phone cameras blinded me, the clicks sounding like circling vultures. Whispers slithered through the air, each word a knife twisting in my heart.

"Caught in the act, the homewrecker. Serves her right, doesn't it?"

"That gorgeous dress? She probably slept her way into it."

Tessa, teetering in her high heels, kicked me to the ground. "Who do you think you are? Who's going to save you? Your sugar daddy? Not a chance."

She grabbed my wedding dress and ripped it violently, the blood-soaked fabric scattering like rags. "Wearing my dress, stealing my man? Let everyone see the true face of this slut! I am Julian's wife. You're just a toy he's tired of. Did you really think you could replace me?"

I snapped my head up, a sharp pain piercing my chest.

Seven years. I'd been with Julian Monroe for seven years. He used to spoil me, driving thirty minutes after work just for my favorite cupcakes. He'd planned ninety-nine proposals, all for my fairytale moment.

But now, his supposed wife had stabbed me with a broken bottle and called me a homewrecker. And just like that, seven years of love and devotion imploded, revealed as nothing but a lie.

The crowd's jeers echoed in my ears, but I met Tessa's gaze without fear, my voice laced with ice. "I am not some cheap plaything. I am Cordelia Caldwell. From Caldwell Industries."

The room erupted in derisive laughter. Even Tessa cackled. "Caldwell Industries? Since when did the world's richest family produce trash like you?"

The glass shards twisted in my flesh, and I flinched from the pain.

Before I could respond, she roared, "How dare you look at me like that?"

She kicked my abdomen, a brutal impact directly on the wound. The force of the blow sent me curling onto the marble floor, a cold sweat soaking through my ruined dress.

She wasn't finished. She grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the floor. "Still defiant? I'm his legal wife. Killing you would be getting off easy."

I gave a bitter smile and coughed up a mouthful of blood.

For all these years, I had been living in a web of Julian's lies. His so-called business trips? They were secret getaways to marry another woman. His wedding plans were never for me.

We were done.

"I need to go to the hospital," I said hoarsely, prying her hand away. "If anything happens to me today, the first person to go down will be Julian. He'll throw you under the bus to save himself!"

Tessa laughed, finding my threat ridiculous. "Who do you think you are? You think I'm scared? Julian would never hurt me for a toy like you!"

She raised the broken glass again, her eyes filled with fury, but I had no strength left to dodge.

Just then, the screech of tires from an Aston Martin sports car echoed from outside. My brother, Wyatt Caldwell, had arrived.

I forced my eyes open, clutching my bleeding abdomen as I struggled to my feet. I fixed Tessa with a glare, enunciating each word. "I told you. My name is Cordelia Caldwell. And you are going to pay."

The car door flew open, and a familiar, imposing figure emerged.

But I couldn't hold on any longer. The blood loss was making my vision tunnel to black. My blood-soaked hand pressed tightly against my abdomen, the dark red stain blooming like a wilted rose across my wedding dress.

"Wyatt, save me!" I cried out with my last ounce of strength.

Wyatt sprinted toward me, and Tessa's gaze shifted to him. She sneered, "Is that your brother or your lover? This is Julian Monroe's territory. No one dares to touch me here."

Wyatt ignored her, rushing to my side and gently scooping me into his arms. His hands were trembling with rage, but his movements were steady.

"I'm Wyatt Caldwell! Who the hell hurt Cordelia?" his voice boomed with menace, his icy glare sweeping across the room.

The crowd's jeers died instantly. The bridal shop fell silent, save for my muffled groans of pain.

Tessa froze for a moment, then puffed out her chest. "I did it, so what? My husband is Julian Monroe. Touch me, and he'll destroy your entire family!"

I coughed, splattering blood on Wyatt's shirt, a stark crimson against the white fabric. "You didn't bring security?" I asked weakly.

The pain was unbearable, and my consciousness began to fray, but I pressed on. "Her weapon was glass. I can't hold on much longer."

Wyatt's voice softened, but it still had a sharp edge. "I was closing a deal nearby and came straight here. Dad's on his way with backup. He'll be here in ten."

His gaze locked onto my wound, his eyes filling with murderous intent. "Who dares to touch an heiress of the Caldwell family?"

He started toward Tessa. "Julian Monroe, is it? You're his wife?"

"That's right!" she retorted, smugly pulling out her phone. "You think I'm scared just because you drop the Caldwell name? I'll call him right now and have him come break your legs."

I grabbed Wyatt's sleeve and shook my head. I had to see it. Would he choose his mistress, or his interests?

"Hospital first," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Tessa blocked our path, cooing into her phone, "Honey, some guy named Wyatt Caldwell is claiming I bullied his sister, and now he wants to kill me. Come save me!"

Julian's voice came through the speaker. "Who has the gall to mess with you? Where are you?"

"At the bridal shop you set up for me," Tessa replied, a malicious gleam in her eyes. "He said he's going to make the Monroe family pay."

Julian paused. "Who? Wyatt Caldwell?"

"Yes," Tessa said, lifting her chin. "He's with Cordelia, and he said—"

"Impossible!" Julian's voice was sharp with disbelief. "You got into a fight with Wyatt? Are you sure it was him?"

I let out a bitter laugh. The pain in my abdomen was nothing compared to the ache in my heart. He hadn't mentioned me once. He was only afraid of the scandal hitting the news.

Our entire relationship was a joke. A cruel, seven-year-long punchline.

My body went limp, and I nearly slipped from Wyatt's arms. He tightened his grip, his voice a low snarl into the phone. "She stabbed Cordelia, and you're calling this a misunderstanding? Get your ass over here. Now."

Tessa smugly hung up the phone. "Some nobody trying to shake down the Monroes? Julian doesn't even know you."

With a flick of her wrist, she motioned to several thugs armed with metal rods. "Even if you are some distant relatives of the Caldwells, you think you can take us on?"

Wyatt set me down and turned to face them, but I staggered to my feet, grabbing a heavy brass letter opener from a nearby design table. "Anyone who takes another step is finished!"

I pointed the letter opener at Tessa, blood dripping from my hand, but I couldn't feel the pain anymore. My heart hammered against my ribs, my eyes burning with pure venom. "You want me dead? Then I'm taking you with me!"

I lunged forward, smashing the heavy brass into her shoulder. Tessa's scream ripped through the shop like the wail of a banshee.

Tessa's scream was ear-splitting. Blood gushed from between her fingers, staining her white dress.

"Bitch! You dare hit me?" she shrieked, her hair a tangled mess. "Get them! Kill these two nobodies!"

I raised the letter opener to strike again, but one of the thugs kicked me hard, sending me crashing into a clothing rack. The impact tore at my wound, and the pain nearly made me black out.

Wyatt threw himself over me protectively as another thug's rod came down, slicing a deep gash into his arm. Blood sprayed out, soaking his shirt.

"Wyatt!" I screamed.

Tessa pointed at us, screaming, "Shut them up! Break their bones! My husband is Julian Monroe! I can handle anything!"

The thugs closed in, their metal rods glinting. Wyatt stood firm, his voice trembling with rage. "The Monroe family, is it? Now it's war!"

Another rod struck, slashing open his back. He grunted, and his blood, hot and metallic, splattered onto me. A thug swung a chair, crashing it against the back of his head.

Wyatt collapsed on top of me, a dead weight. His blood blurred my vision, and my cries mixed with the shouts of the thugs.

"Wyatt! Wake up!" I sobbed.

A thug kicked me in the back, and I fell beside Wyatt, his blood smearing across my face.

When I came to, I was trapped in an abandoned cabin in the Catskill Mountains. My hands and feet were bound with coarse rope, and my mouth was sealed shut with duct tape, stifling my cries.

The cabin's musty air and chilling cold bit at my skin, which was crusted over with dried sweat and blood.

"Awake?" Tessa loomed over me, a triumphant smirk on her face. "Back in the day, a slut like you would've been stoned to death. It's a shame I couldn't finish you off myself."

I made a muffled sound, the tape over my mouth soaked with blood. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wyatt lying nearby, his blood a dark stain on the floor.

"Wyatt!" I tried to scream, the tears freezing on my face as they fell.

"Don't cry," Tessa said with a laugh. "Julian called me. He's on his way to clean house."

She crouched down, looking at me like I was garbage. "What do you think he'll do when he finds out you hurt me? I bet he'll kill you just to make me happy."

She gestured to the thugs, who dragged in several cans of gasoline. "Let me warm you two up, so you don't turn into cold corpses."

Gasoline was splashed around us, the acrid smell and thick fumes choking me. I gagged on my own blood, the tape forcing the metallic tang back down my raw throat. I struggled desperately, but the ropes only tightened, the blood from the cuts on my wrists already growing tacky.

Just then, my phone rang. The screen lit up with Julian's name.

I glared at the phone, twisting my body to reach it. With my hands bound, I used my cheek to slide the screen, finally managing to answer the call.

"What's all the drama now?" he said, annoyed. "I told you I'd handle the wedding plans."

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him I was done, to save me now so we could be finished for good. But the tape reduced my words to muffled noises.

Tessa noticed, her face contorting. "Who are you talking to?"

She lunged for the phone, but I pressed it tightly to my chest, refusing to let go. The cold of the gasoline and the impending flames sent a shiver through me, and my eyelids grew heavy.

Fueled only by rage, I made garbled sounds into the phone, screaming in my mind, Julian, you'd better pray Wyatt and I make it out of this alive, or you're going to hell with Tessa!