Chapter 1

My fiancé, Jake, vanished a week before our wedding for a top-secret project. He promised to return in three years, and like a fool, I waited, believing our future was just on pause.

But when my mother was dying, I discovered the truth. All his calls and his entire hazard pay stipend had been diverted to his childhood friend, Britney, for her "emotional support."

After my mother' s death, I rebuilt my life and married a wonderful man. But a chance encounter at her grave turned violent. Jake shoved me, and I collapsed, bleeding, terrified I was losing the baby I was carrying.

I begged him for help, but he and Britney just watched, callously betting on whether I was faking it.

He was still staring as I bled out when a shadow fell over me. It was my husband, Davion Carpenter. The man who also happened to be Jake' s boss.

Chapter 1

My wedding dress hung unworn in the closet, a cruel white ghost of a future Jake Rodriguez had promised just a week before he vanished into a top-secret government project, leaving me with nothing but empty words and a three-year calendar to mark.

It was a different time, less connected but more deeply felt, where promises still carried the weight of forever. Jake and I had built our lives around each other since college. He was brilliant, a software engineer with eyes that sparkled with ambition, and I, Alena Koch, was ready to be his wife. We' d picked out the rings, tasted the cake, even argued playfully over the playlist for the reception. Our apartment felt alive with the hum of our shared dreams.

Then, a week before our wedding, a black car pulled up to his apartment. Men in dark suits, hushed conversations, and suddenly, Jake was gone. He said it was patriotism, a once-in-a-lifetime chance, a top-secret cybersecurity project for the government. Three years. Just three years, Alena.

His words were rushed, his embrace tight but fleeting. "Wait for me, Alena. When I come back, we' ll pick up right where we left off. I promise. Our future is waiting." He left me standing on the porch, clutching a wilting bouquet I' d bought for a bridesmaid' s trial, the scent of dying roses filling the air.

And I waited. For three years, every day was a tick mark on a calendar, every night a silent prayer for his safe return. I believed him. I poured all my energy into being the perfect future wife, ready for the moment he' d walk back through that door.

His calls were rare, encrypted, and always brief. Each month, I' d wait, heart pounding, for my allotted fifteen minutes. But more often than not, the line would click, and a monotone voice would say, "Jake Rodriguez' s personal time has already been utilized for the month." It happened again and again. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach with each missed connection.

Then Mom got sick. Not just a cold or a flu, but something insidious, something that ate away at her strength, at our savings, at my hope. The hospital bills piled up like gravestones, each one a stark reminder of how quickly life can unravel.

I needed Jake. I needed his comfort, his advice, his... presence. And more than anything, I needed his government stipend, the hazard pay he was surely earning. I called the secure line, my voice hoarse, begging for just a moment to speak to him.

The same cold, robotic voice answered. "Jake Rodriguez' s personal time has already been utilized." My blood ran cold. Utilized? Again? When my mother was fighting for her life? I heard the words, but they didn' t compute. All his call time. Every single minute, diverted. It was like a punch to the gut, a betrayal far deeper than a simple missed call.

I felt a wave of nausea, a dizzying mix of despair and rage. I turned from the phone booth, the fluorescent lights of the facility buzzing harshly, ready to just walk away. What was I even doing here?

Just then, a familiar laugh echoed down the hallway. Britney. Jake' s childhood friend, his "little sister," her face bright and carefree. She practically skipped past me, a security guard smiling warmly at her, waving her through a restricted door I couldn't even approach. The guard' s smile faded when he saw my face. "Oh, Alena. Britney just got the special clearance. Jake put her on the priority list." Priority list. For Britney. While my mother lay dying.

I heard Jake' s voice then, muffled but distinct, through the door. "Is she okay? Britney, darling, are you still upset about the breakup? I told you not to worry." Upset about her breakup. While my mother was losing hers. A surge of desperate energy pulsed through me. I moved towards the door, a primal scream building in my throat. I needed to see him. I needed him to see me, to see what was happening.

The guard, his face now grim, put a hand on my chest. "Ma' am, you cannot enter. You do not have clearance." His hand felt like a steel bar, pinning me in place, an invisible wall between me and the man who was supposed to be my future. He must have seen the utter devastation in my eyes, the way my shoulders slumped. He leaned in, his voice low, a flicker of pity in his gaze. "He' s been sending all his hazard pay stipend to her too, Alena. For her 'emotional support fund.' Didn' t you know?"

The world tilted. Hazard pay. For emotional support. My mother, wasting away, and Jake' s money, our money, funding Britney' s post-breakup therapy.

Days later, Mom was gone. No proper palliative care, no last-ditch effort, just a slow, painful fade. She died in my arms, her last breath a whisper of my name, the medical bills a silent, crushing weight around my heart. I blamed myself. If I had just been stronger, smarter, more resourceful. If I hadn' t waited, hadn' t believed. The "what ifs" became a cruel mantra in my head, each one a fresh lash of self-flagellation.

That day, standing by her fresh grave, under a sky as gray and lifeless as my heart, I made a choice. No more waiting. No more Alena, the patient, devoted fiancée. Jake Rodriguez was a ghost, and I was done haunting myself.

Years passed. The pain dulled, the raw edges softening into scars. I rebuilt, brick by painful brick. I found a different kind of love, a steady, unwavering kind. Davion Carpenter. My husband. And now, we were trying for a baby, a new life blooming from the ashes of my old one. Our journey to parenthood led me back to a familiar city, to a specialist renowned for fertility issues: Dr. Evelyn Reed, located in the same medical complex where my mother had once fought for her life. A bitter irony, but a necessary step for the future I craved.

I was walking through the hospital lobby, lost in thought, when I saw him. Jake. Older, yes, but unmistakably him, his profile framed by the bright sunlight streaming through the arched windows. My breath caught, a cold knot forming in my stomach. And next to him, laughing, her hand possessively tucked into his arm, was Britney Booth. Still his "little sister," it seemed. Still thriving on his attention. They looked... like a couple. A sick, twisted déjà vu.

A group of well-dressed executives approached them, congratulating Jake heartily. "Rodriguez, your work on Project Chimera is truly groundbreaking! A national asset!" one man boomed. Jake preened, a confident, self-satisfied smile on his face. He hadn't just returned; he' d returned a hero. The project director, a distinguished man I vaguely recognized from Jake's old company photos, clapped Jake on the back. "And now, with the project wrapped, perhaps we' ll finally hear wedding bells for you and Britney, eh, young man? It' s about time!" My blood ran cold. Wedding bells. For them.

Jake's confident smile faltered. His eyes darted around the lobby, scanning the faces, a flicker of unease in their depths. He was looking for something. Or someone. His gaze swept over me, lingered for a fraction of a second, but I pressed myself against a large potted plant, willing myself to be invisible. He didn't see me, not truly, not the woman I had become. Britney, sensing his distraction, leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. "Oh, Davion, you' re always teasing us!" Her voice, sugary sweet, grated on my nerves. She giggled, her eyes slyly flicking towards the entrance. "Besides, who knows, maybe Alena finally found someone to marry while Jake was away. He always worried she' d be snatched up!"

Her words were meant to needle Jake, but they struck me like a physical blow, a reminder of the life I had built, separate from her poisonous existence.