Chapter 6 - THE WEDDING THAT NEVER HAPPENED
I returned to my hotel feeling as though someone had pulled the floor out from beneath me.
For seven years, I had believed my greatest betrayal was Adrian's affair.
Now I was learning that our relationship had been surrounded by secrets long before Lily entered the picture.
My father.
Victor Sloane.
Moretti Freight.
A testimony that never happened.
And a death I had never questioned.
Adrian came to see me that evening.
I almost refused.
Then I opened the door.
He stood in the hallway wearing a dark coat.
“Can I come in?”
I stepped aside.
He entered.
We stood across from each other.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked, “Why did you propose to me?”
He looked surprised.
“Because I loved you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Or did your family want to keep my father's daughter close?”
His face changed.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He stared.
“Evelyn, no.”
I studied him.
“Did your father arrange our relationship?”
“No.”
“Did you know my father was supposed to testify?”
Adrian hesitated.
Then nodded.
My chest tightened.
“And you still never told me.”
“He asked me to keep it private.”
I shook my head.
“You keep saying that.”
Adrian looked down.
“I know.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you know something was wrong with his death?”
“No.”
“Did you investigate?”
“No.”
I stared.
“Why not?”
He swallowed.
“Because I trusted my father.”
I laughed once.
“And I trusted you.”
Adrian sat down slowly.
For the first time, he looked genuinely defeated.
“I've spent seven years trying to understand why you left without letting me explain.”
I stared.
He continued.
“Now I realize you had already heard enough explanations.”
I said nothing.
He looked up.
“I was wrong about Lily. Wrong about what I owed you. Wrong about what love meant.”
His voice broke slightly.
“I thought if I kept enough things under control, I could fix the damage.”
I crossed my arms.
“And could you?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
I looked toward the window.
Chicago stretched beneath us.
The city where I had fallen in love.
The city where I had lost my father.
The city where I had abandoned my wedding dress in a closet and fled before sunrise.
“Do you know what happened after I left?” I asked.
Adrian looked up.
“I searched for you.”
“I know.”
He frowned.
“How?”
“My mother told me.”
He looked down.
I continued.
“But you never asked why I didn't want to be found.”
He was silent.
“I spent six months sleeping on a mattress in a rented room. I worked two jobs. I cried in grocery stores because songs reminded me of you.”
His eyes filled.
“I didn't trust anyone for years.”
I took a breath.
“And eventually, I built a life.”
Adrian whispered, “I'm glad.”
I looked at him.
“Don't mistake my survival for your redemption.”
He nodded.
“I won't.”
When he left, I found myself standing in front of the mirror.
I looked older than the woman who had disappeared seven years earlier.
There were faint lines near my eyes.
A small scar on my hand from a construction-site accident.
A confidence in my posture that hadn't existed before.
I touched the glass.
Then whispered, “We're not going backward.”
And for the first time since returning to Chicago, I knew exactly what I wanted.
Not Adrian.
May you like
Not revenge.
The truth.
