Chapter 2 - The Ticket to Nowhere
The drive to JFK Airport three days later was a masterclass in psychological torture. Ethan held my hand in the sleek black town car, his thumb drawing gentle, soothing circles on my skin.
“You’re going to love the Blue Lagoon, Claire,” he murmured, kissing my temple. “You deserve this rest. I know the wedding planning and your audiology appointments have been draining you. Just unplug. Don’t even look at your phone.”
Don't look at your phone so you won't see my breakup email until it's too late, I translated silently.
“You’re so good to me, Ethan,” I replied, my voice steady, though my stomach churned with disgust.
When he kissed me goodbye at the Terminal 4 drop-off, I played the part perfectly. I waved until his car merged into the highway traffic. The moment his taillights disappeared, my smile vanished. I didn't walk toward the Icelandair check-in desk. Instead, I pulled out my phone, canceled the non-refundable ticket, and walked directly to the British Airways lounge.
I was flying to London.
London was where my family’s estate lawyers were based. It was also a timezone that would allow me to work while Ethan slept. Once I was settled in the first-class cabin, thousands of feet above the Atlantic, I opened my laptop. I logged into our shared iCloud—a careless oversight on his part—and began digging.
May you like
It took less than two hours to find what I was looking for. Hidden beneath layers of encrypted folders were the text messages. Ethan and Olivia hadn’t just been planning a fake wedding for a sick friend; they had been sleeping together for a year. Olivia’s tumor was real, but it wasn't life-threatening—it was a benign mass. They were using her "tragic illness" as a shield to justify stealing my wedding, knowing our social circle wouldn't dare criticize a man fulfilling a "dying" woman's final wish.
By the time the plane touched down at Heathrow, I wasn't just heartbroken. I was a weapon.
