Nadine stood in front of the hotel’s full–length mirror, her wedding gown shimmering like a soft promise. Her mother fussed over her hair, tucking the final pins in place, humming a lullaby from Nadine’s childhood.
“Look at you,” Claudia whispered, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. “You’re finally free. You’re finally happy, my girl.”
Nadine tried to smile. Her reflection was beautiful a bride in lace, her hair swept up, eyes glowing.
But somewhere inside her chest, a soft ache pulsed. She pressed her hand there, just to feel her own heartbeat. This is real. This is yours now.
Downstairs, Niccolo was already on his way to the small church they’d chosen. They’d kept it intimate – just family, close friends, nothing extravagant.
Nadine didn’t need grandeur. She only needed Niccolo.
Her phone buzzed, a message from him: “See you at the altar, my love. Can’t wait to make you my wife.”
She typed back quickly, “Drive safely. Don’t keep me waiting.”
But just as she laughed with her mother, somewhere across the city, Niccolo’s black sedan turned the corner near the old industrial blocks and a dark SUV slammed into its side. Tires screeched, glass shattered.
Two masked men leapt out as Niccolo’s driver stumbled from the car. He never stood a chance. The men dragged Niccolo from the back seat, punching him across the jaw, slamming him to the asphalt.
Niccolo fought back, his fists bloody, but a pipe struck the side of his head and he crumpled. His last conscious thought was of Nadine, her waiting at the church, all dressed in white.
When Nadine arrived at the church, the flowers were already being brought inside.
Guests murmured happily near the front pews, but there was no sign of Niccolo. Then her phone rang a voice, panicked, told her to get to the hospital.
–
When she arrived at the emergency ward, she found him bloodied, his suit shredded, oxygen mask strapped to his face as nurses wheeled him into surgery. Nadine screamed, her knees buckling.
Claudia held her, but it was Scott’s hands that caught her before she hit the floor.
“Don’t you dare touch me!” she spat, shoving him away. Her eyes were wild, red. “This is you! This is your doing – you couldn’t stand that I was leaving for good!”
Scott’s face was pale, drenched in rain and sweat. “Nadine, listen to me. I swear to you, it wasn’t me. I would never-”
“Liar!” she screamed, her voice echoing off the cold hospital walls. “You stalked me for months, you hovered around like some ghost – you threatened him! You did this!”
Dear Husband. We were never Married!
Scott’s hands curled into fists at his sides. For a second, the old Scott, the cruel, careless Scott flashed behind his eyes. But it flickered out just as fast. “If you really think I’d hurt you like this, then I deserve everything. But I didn’t. Not this. I love you, I’d never-”
Nadine laughed, hollow. “Love? You don’t even know what that is. Prove it. Prove it wasn’t you. Find whoever did this or I will never forgive you for as long as I live.”
Scott just stared at her, the weight of years pressing down on his shoulders.
He realized then that nothing he could do would ever bring her back to him, not in the way he once dreamed. But maybe, for once, he could do one thing right.
Scott called his men that same night. He’d buried his own empire in blood and secrets; he could dig them up again.
They tracked down the ones who had ambushed Niccolo, cornered them in a decaying building on the outskirts. It didn’t take long to trace the money. Every breadcrumb led to one name: Jasmine.
When his men dragged her in, Jasmine was a shadow of the woman she’d once been, her hair unkempt, mask hanging from her pocket, burn scars peeking out like a confession she couldn’t hide.
She smiled when she saw Scott, a desperate, trembling smile. “Scott, baby, I did it for us, you have to believe me, you have to-”
He didn’t speak. He just stared, eyes empty, as his men pinned her to a rusted chair. She begged, wept, cursed Nadine’s name over and over until her voice cracked. But Scott didn’t flinch.
He turned to his men. “Do it. Make her pay for what she did to Nadine.”
Hours later, they left Jasmine in that old building. Her cries followed them out like ghosts rattling chains. But when the door slammed shut, silence wrapped her like a shroud.
A day later, Jasmine sat on the floor of that abandoned warehouse, rocking back and forth, her mind unraveling as the darkness pressed in.
The men who’d tortured her were gone. Scott hadn’t looked back. She knew she couldn’t crawl back to him this time, not with half her face ruined, not with no money, no power, nothing left to offer.
She dragged herself to the broken window, the glass glinting in the moonlight. From this high up, the city looked like a sea of stars, distant, uncaring.
“Scott…” she whispered. The name tasted like ashes now.
She thought of her old life: the parties, the diamonds, the dresses. The way Scott used to look at her like she was everything.
—
Then Nadine came back from the dead, and Jasmine’s empire had turned to dust.
She put one foot on the ledge. The night wind stung her ruined skin, but she didn’t feel it. She closed her eyes, took a breath that tasted like freedom, or maybe just an end.
And then she stepped forward.
When Scott heard what happened he was at a bar half–drunk staring at a photo of Medi- Chapter 20
And then she stepped forward.
When Scott heard what happened, he was at a bar, half–drunk, staring at a photo of Nadine
on his phone.
–
For a moment, he froze maybe the old him would’ve felt something. But the only thing that came was emptiness. Jasmine’s end was no loss. He’d already lost the only thing that mattered.
He drained his glass and made one last call – paying a fortune to send Condor, Jasmine’s brother, far away where he could never seek revenge. It was the final piece. Nadine would be safe.
He put his phone down, ordered another drink, and let the ghosts swallow him whole.
