He Terminated My Lease So I Terminated Our Wedding Chapter 16
In the end, the ceremony was canceled.
Not because the donors believed Owen, but because the project involved public funds, and any formal dispute had to go through an independent review.
The director explained this to me while carefully avoiding my eyes.
“Two weeks, at the soonest. If new allegations come up, it could take longer.”
The crew powered down the equipment. The red carpet that had just been unrolled was wound back up. The media crowded outside the barriers, shouting questions through the fence.
“Ms. Hart, do you plan to sue your former fiancé?”
“Are you using private trauma for commercial gain?”
“What really happened on the island?”
I answered none of them. I got straight into my lawyer’s car.
Only when the door shut did my hands begin to feel cold.
My lawyer handed me the application for a temporary protective order.
“He emailed the donors and confronted you at your workplace. Today’s livestream is also evidence. It’s your decision whether to file.”
I looked at the final signature line.
Three years ago, I had filed for a protective order because I just wanted them to stay away. When it expired, I hadn’t renewed it.
I thought if I didn’t look back, the past would stay behind me.
But they had taken my silence as a blank page where they could rewrite the story of that island.
I picked up the pen.
“File it.”
She put the papers away. “And for your public response?”
“Give the full record to the review committee and the court, with my medical details redacted. Send the media a timeline only. No interviews.”
She nodded, writing everything down.
I listed exactly what to submit.
The recording from the wedding website. The landlord’s lease termination. The bank transfer of seventy-four thousand dollars. The “Lila Line” chats and Venmo receipts. The statement I recorded in Maine canceling the wedding. The hospital records. The police report. And the screenshot my friend had saved before Cass deleted her post.
They had always existed.
Not so I would have to live forever inside that day.
But so that one day, the people who hurt me would not get to come back and explain that day for me.
That night, Cass sent a voice message through her lawyer.
“Lila, I’m willing to testify that it was all Owen’s idea. If you just tell the court I was only following his lead, I’ll help you.”
I stopped the message halfway through.
My lawyer looked at me. “How do you want to respond?”
“Tell her to state the facts she knows under oath.”
“No conditions?”
“The truth doesn’t need to be traded for my forgiveness.”
Just as I finished speaking, the project director called.
He told me the committee had just received an audio file.
It was the sound of me crying through a panic attack.
Owen had resent the “Bride Meltdown Countdown” clip from the wedding website, claiming this was the “real Lila.”
There was a brief silence on the line.
“Ms. Hart, some on the committee are concerned that your mental state may make you unfit to continue leading this project.”
The laughter from three years ago was playing again, this time out of a stranger’s phone.
This time, I didn’t hang up.
“Please forward that email to my lawyer,” I said. “And add that question to the official review record.”