She Missed Her Last Chance

Loree Koester got hurt over and over by her dream guy—Harvey Geake—while I dragged her up from nothing to a damn fortune.

Ten years later, she stood at my proposal, eyes full of tears, and said yes.

Then she ditched our wedding ninety-eight times. Every time, same excuse—Harvey threatening to kill himself.

On the ninety-ninth, she didn't even hesitate. Left our friends, our family—hell, left her ring on the floor.

"Rowan, just wait a little longer. Two hours. I'll deal with Harvey and come right back."

I'd already waited ten years.

I wasn't waiting two more hours.

Loree picked up a call and bolted, right in front of everyone.

"I'm sorry, Rowan. I have to go. Harvey's in real danger this time. I'm the only one who can save him. Be reasonable—this is someone's life. Just wait for me, okay?"

Same as always. A few rushed words, then she walked out on our wedding.

I didn't stop her. Just watched her rush off in those heels.

One blink, and all that was left... was her fading silhouette.

Every eye turned on me—mocking, judging, bored, pitying.

I stood there under the spotlight like some joke they paid to watch.

I didn't lose it. Wasn't mad. Wasn't even sad.

I just watched her disappear.

My friend, Eric, stepped up and handed me an envelope.

"Go home. Think about whether you still want this."

I took it.

Inside—a new ID, a passport, and a one-way ticket to Australia.

I looked at the frozen emcee, then the guests who'd clearly seen this before, and let out a dry laugh.

Ninety-ninth time.

That's how many times Loree walked out on our wedding.

And the ninety-ninth time Harvey swore he'd kill himself.

Every single time—right as we hit the vows—he'd send her a video, standing on some rooftop.

Every single time, she dropped everything and ran to him.

If he was actually in danger, I'd get it. Anyone would.

But ninety-nine times?

Anyone with half a brain could see it was a setup.

The second time it happened, I begged her. Dropped to my knees, grabbed her dress, told her to stay.

Didn't matter. She'd already checked out. I told her over and over—it was just another stunt to wreck our wedding.

She never believed me.

Didn't matter that it always ended the same—false alarm.

Didn't matter that he'd still keep her with him for days after.

I got mad. I broke down. I begged.

Every time, she swore the next wedding would go smoothly.

Now here we were.

Ninety-nine times.

I loved Loree. Couldn't watch ten years go up in flames because of Harvey.

I gave her everything—trusted her, backed every call she made, had her back no matter what.

She never cared how I felt. Kept leaving me alone at our own wedding, letting everyone laugh and judge.

Every time, she'd come back, ask for another chance, swear she'd marry me.

Every time, she crushed my love—and my pride.

She thought I'd never leave. Thought I'd always be there.

Not this time.

Ninety-nine was the limit.

All eyes stayed on me. Whispers spread. They were waiting for a show.

I was an orphan. No family.

Once, I told Loree maybe we shouldn't invite so many people. I didn't like the way they looked at me—cold, mocking. Same look I got as a kid, fighting stray dogs for scraps.

She just said, "Just because you don't have family doesn't mean I can't invite mine."

Not one person there cared about me.

They just wanted me to snap. Lose it. Give them something to talk about.

But I didn't play along.

I fixed my suit and walked straight toward Loree's parents—Donovan and Rebecca.

The same relatives who stayed seated when she left rushed over, blocking me.

"Rowan, calm down. Don't do anything stupid. They're your future in-laws!"

Future in-laws?

Not anymore.

I shoved past them and stopped in front of Donovan and Rebecca.

Before I could even open my mouth, they cut in—

"Rowan, let's postpone the wedding. Loree said she wants to marry Harvey first."