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On my wedding day, I was going to die. At least, that was how it would look to everyone else. At dawn, I would take my fiancé’s family yacht into the deepest part of Charleston Harbor and leave my engagement ring and veil behind. Then I would disappear for good. My fiancé, Carter—the heir to Charleston’s most prestigious wedding estate—was at that very moment holding his childhood sweetheart in his arms, enjoying one last wild fling on a yacht in Key West. The woman, Delaney, was posting one intimate update after another on Instagram. What they didn’t know was that every photo she uploaded had already been spliced into the wedding video. He thought a grand wedding awaited him, one that would solidify his family’s reputation. He was wrong. What awaited him was a giant screen looping hard proof of his cheating—and the suspicion that he’d murdered his wife, a shadow that would follow him for the rest of his life. ... A week before the wedding, Carter had his bachelor party at an upscale cigar bar with his groomsmen. I drove over, planning to surprise him—and remind him to come home early. We still had to go over the final guest list the next day. The door to the private room was ajar. I heard his voice from inside, warm with laughter. “Of course I’m looking forward to it, guys,” Carter was bragging to his friends. “Marrying Wren, throwing a flawless Charleston wedding... this is the perfect ending I deserve.” He sounded smug, as if I weren’t the woman he was marrying, but some prize he’d finally won. My hand stopped just short of the door. One of the groomsmen said, “Then why’d you agree to go to Key West with Delaney at a time like this? Isn’t that pushing it, Carter?” Carter sighed, his voice threaded with a helpless fondness. “You know how special she is to me. We’ve known each other since we were in diapers. She said this was her ‘last crazy fling before the wedding.’ I couldn’t say no.” Another friend immediately chimed in. “Be honest—Delaney’s that hot. You’re telling me you’ve never had feelings for her?” My heart skipped a beat. I’d asked him that before. He’d frowned, looking at me like I was an idiot, and said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Wren. She’s like family.” Now, standing outside that door, I held my breath and waited for a different answer. I heard the sharp clink of ice against glass as he took a sip of whiskey. “Delaney isn’t fit to be the mistress of Whitlock Manor,” he said slowly, calmly, as if evaluating a business deal. “She’s too wild. Too emotional. To me, she’s more like... family.” The room instantly exploded with hoots and ugly laughter. “That kind of family,” one groomsman drawled, “or the ‘Oh no, stepbro, I’m stuck in the dryer’ kind of family?”The jeers and laughter from inside stabbed at my ears. I stood frozen outside the door. After a few seconds—or maybe a few minutes—I turned away, my face a mask, and tossed the anti-hangover sparkling water I’d brought for him into the trash can at the end of the hall. The can hit the bottom with a dull clang. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and pushed open the bar’s heavy wooden door. Charleston’s December fog hit me in the face, damp and cold. I didn’t look back. I walked straight into the mist. By the time Carter got home, I had been sitting alone on the living room sofa for a long time. He came toward me smiling, carrying a huge bouquet of my favorite white roses like he was presenting a treasure. “Wren, look. I had to go to three different florists to find these.” I said nothing. I just looked up at him. As if he didn’t notice my cold expression, he held the flowers out to me. “We’re confirming the final guest list tomorrow. I wanted to cheer you on.” I didn’t reach for them. I just lifted my head and looked at the man I had once thought I could rely on for the rest of my life. “If you get on that plane to Key West,” I said, letting each word land like a stone, “we’re over.” The smile froze on Carter’s face. “......

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