Chapter 3

As the heavy satin tore apart, Chasity's bare back and white lace underwear were completely exposed to the freezing autumn wind. Gasps broke out across the terrace, the polite smiles freezing on the guests' faces.

Chasity let out a piercing scream. Reaching back in a panic to cover herself, her heel caught in the sagging hem of the ruined dress, and she pitched face-first onto the red carpet.

Cory's smile vanished, his face turning livid. Instead of reaching down to help his bride, he stepped back, his eyes darting around the crowd in pure embarrassment and disgust.

The bridesmaids screamed and rushed forward, pulling off their shawls and suit jackets from nearby men to wrap around the sobbing Chasity.

In the media section at the back, several tabloid photographers ignored the ban and slammed their shutters, the rapid-fire camera flashes lighting up the terrace.

Sitting behind the cafe window across the street, Keira curved her lips into a cold smile and swallowed the last sip of her black coffee. Her fingers brushed against the small, hard object she’d instinctively swept off her nightstand before leaving—the final piece of her past she had yet to discard.

She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the engagement ring Cory had given her two years ago, its tiny, cheap diamond glinting dully in the light.

Pushing open the cafe door, she walked down the sidewalk. As she passed a cast-iron storm drain on the curb, she held her hand over the grate and opened her fingers.

The ring fell through the iron bars with a sharp metallic clink, disappearing into the filthy water below.

Keira raised her hand, hailed a rideshare, and gave the driver the address of a private ophthalmic research center on Long Island.

An hour and a half later, Keira sat in an examination room smelling strongly of antiseptic. Across the desk sat Dr. Emelia Webster, a composed woman in a crisp white lab coat who was both her physician and her closest friend.

Emelia studied the latest retinal scans, her dark brows drawing together as she pressed her lips into a thin line. "Your optic nerve regeneration is better than expected, Keira. But your blood pressure and eye pressure are spiking. You've had a massive emotional shock today."

Keira gave a bitter smile, rubbing her aching right wrist. "Sorry, Emelia. I just attended my husband’s wedding to another woman—no, more accurately, the man I thought was my husband. It wasn’t until today that I found out our marriage certificate was fake."

Emelia's hand froze, her pen leaving a heavy black blot on the medical chart. "The marriage certificate was fake? And he actually married someone else today? That absolute bastard—not only did he cheat on you, he forged a marriage certificate. He’s utterly disgusting!" She said sharply, then quickly restored her expression to professional calm. "Now, your one and only top priority is to protect your eyes."

Keira nodded quietly. "I know. He set up that medical trust fund to pay for my treatment. I won't let my eyes go to waste, and I'll pay him back every single cent."

At the mention of the medical trust fund, Emelia's gaze flickered. She quickly looked down, busying her hands with stacking the file folders on her desk.

"Actually... the funding for your experimental serum was complicated," Emelia said, her tone guarded. "You don't owe Cory anything."

Keira leaned forward slightly, her amber eyes narrowing. "Complicated how? Didn't Cory sell his lake house to fund my trial?"

Emelia took a deep breath, keeping her face blank. "Medical ethics prohibit me from disclosing donor details. Just take my word for it—don't feel guilty toward him."

Exhaustion washed over Keira from the morning's chaos. Too tired to press further, she leaned back against the examination couch and closed her eyes to rest.

Once Keira's breathing became slow and even, Emelia walked to the corner of the office and pulled an encrypted black smartphone from the inside pocket of her lab coat.

Her fingers moved quickly across the screen: [She found out about Goodwin's affair and her vision is fully restored. She is stable. Next instructions?]

As soon as the message went through, Emelia deleted the thread and looked back at the sleeping Keira with a quiet sigh.

At that exact moment, on the top floor of a skyscraper in Midtown Manhattan, a custom black phone buzzed once on a massive black walnut desk.

A large hand with prominent knuckles and faint, purplish-blue veins showing beneath the pale skin picked up the phone. Cold, ice-blue eyes scanned the text on the screen.

Frederic Blankenship tapped his long index finger twice against the polished wood, the corner of his mouth lifting into a dark, possessive smile.

He pressed the intercom button on his desk, his voice low and harsh. "Get the motorcade ready. We're going to Philadelphia."

Meanwhile, back in the trashed bridal dressing room at The Plaza Hotel in Philadelphia, Cory stood with his arms crossed, glaring at Chasity as she sobbed in her torn dress.

Chasity grabbed a crystal perfume bottle from the vanity and hurled it against the wall, shattering glass everywhere. "Someone sabotaged me! A Paris couture gown doesn't just rip in half by itself!"

Cory rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration, his voice tight. "Enough! Haven't we been humiliated enough today? I already have the PR team paying off the press."

The door opened, and Cory's personal assistant, Nathan, hurried inside, breathless and holding up a clear plastic evidence bag containing a mud-stained diamond ring.

"Sir, the security team I had tailing Keira just reported in," Nathan panted, placing the bag on the vanity. "They saw her drop this into a storm drain outside the cafe. It took them half an hour to fish it out of the muck."