Chapter 3
Ethan didn’t say a word.
He just stared at Victoria, his face cold and empty, like he was looking at a stranger.
Then he turned on his heel, Lila still held tight against his chest, and walked away from the altar, away from the tent, away from the life he’d thought he wanted.
Victoria screamed his name, over and over, her voice shrill and broken, but he didn’t look back.
I grabbed our purses from the seats, mumbled a quick apology to Ethan’s shocked mom, and ran after them.
I found Ethan by his truck in the parking lot, leaning against the hood, Lila curled up in his lap, her head on his shoulder, fast asleep. Her face was smudged with dirt, but for the first time since she’d walked into the tent, she looked peaceful.
Ethan’s face was streaked with tears, his suit jacket draped over Lila like a blanket.
“What do I do, Claire?” he whispered, his voice broken. “I have a daughter. I have a seven-year-old daughter I didn’t know existed. And I almost married a woman who let her suffer alone.”
I sat down next to him, putting my hand on his arm. “We take her home,” I said. “We take care of her. That’s all that matters now.”
He nodded, but his eyes were far away.
We were just about to get in the truck when Victoria came running out of the tent, her veil askew, her makeup running down her face in black streaks.
“Ethan, wait!” She grabbed the door of the truck before he could close it, her nails digging into the metal. “I’m sorry, okay? I made a mistake! I was scared! You have to forgive me! I’m pregnant, Ethan! I’m carrying your baby!”
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water.
But Ethan just laughed, a cold, bitter sound that made my skin crawl.
“Nice try, Victoria,” he said, his voice flat. “I saw your birth control pills in your makeup bag last week. The prescription was refilled three days ago. You’re not pregnant. You never were.”
Victoria’s face went white.
She opened her mouth to lie again, but no words came out.
“You faked the pregnancy test, didn’t you?” Ethan’s voice was sharp, cutting. “That’s why you pushed me to get married so fast. You knew if I waited, I’d find out. You didn’t want me. You wanted my dad’s money, the house, the life you thought I could give you.”
Tears of rage spilled down her face again, but this time, there was no sadness in them—only hate.
“Fine,” she spat, stepping back from the truck. “You want that little trash kid? You can have her. But I’m not going away, Ethan. You ruined my wedding, you ruined my life. I’m going to make you pay. I’m going to take everything from you, just like you took everything from me.”
She turned and stormed back toward the tent, her dress dragging in the mud, and I shivered.
I knew Victoria. She was spoiled, entitled, and cruel. And when she said she’d make him pay, I believed her.
Ethan sighed, rubbing his face with one hand, then climbed into the driver’s seat, carefully buckling Lila into the passenger seat with his suit jacket still wrapped around her.
“Let’s go home,” he said, and I nodded, climbing into the back.
We drove away from the venue, away from the ruined wedding, toward Ethan’s big, empty house in the suburbs.
Lila slept the whole way, her small hand curled around the hem of Ethan’s shirt.
I watched him drive, his face tight with worry, and I knew the hard part was just beginning.
We had a little girl to take care of, a woman scorned who wanted revenge, and a whole lot of healing to do.
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But as I looked at Lila, sleeping peacefully, her lips turned up in a tiny smile, I also knew this was the best thing that had ever happened to Ethan.
He just didn’t know it yet.
