My Wedding Dress For The Other Woman? His Regret After I Canceled Chapter 08
The news spread fast.
By the time the sun came up on December 26th, every socialite in Veridian City knew what had happened. Kaelan Cross, former king of the elite, arrested for the second time in forty-eight hours.
And Vivian Vance, the woman he’d publicly humiliated, revealed as the silent billionaire behind his entire empire.
My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.
Summer showed up with coffee and a stack of printed articles.
“You’re famous,” she said, handing me the top one. “Page six. Front page. ‘The Bride Who Owned the Groom.'”
I groaned.
“It’s a good headline,” she said. “Better than ‘Local Idiot Gets What He Deserves.'”
I skimmed the article. It was mostly wrong. But the part about Kaelan’s fraud trial was right. He was looking at fifteen years. Minimum.
“Serena skipped town,” Summer added, scrolling through her phone. “Took the last of his cash and flew to Dubai. At least, that’s what the comments say.”
I wasn’t surprised.
The woman who wore my dress and knelt at his feet calling him “baby” was gone as soon as the money ran out.
“That’s what he gets,” Summer said. “You don’t build a castle on someone else’s land and act surprised when it collapses.”
I poured more coffee. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”
“Then let’s talk about Ethan.”
I choked.
Summer grinned. “Oh, don’t play dumb. I saw the way he carried you out of that festival. That man is in love with you.”
“He’s my business partner.”
“Sure.” Summer sipped her latte. “And I’m the Queen of England.”
…
Two weeks later. Kaelan’s trial started.
I didn’t go. I didn’t need to.
My lawyers sent me updates. The prosecution had everything. Bank records. Emails. Testimonies from his own employees. They’d been lining up to turn on him.
He never had a chance.
The jury deliberated for four hours.
Guilty on all counts.
I was in Ethan’s kitchen when the verdict came in. He was cooking—something he only did when he was nervous—and I was sitting at the island, pretending to read a book.
I watched him move around the kitchen. The way he checked the seasoning twice. The way he hummed under his breath. The way he kept glancing at me like he was making sure I was still there.
Summer’s words echoed in my head.
That man is in love with you.
…
I visited Kaelan once.
Three months into his sentence. A medium-security prison two hours outside the city.
I don’t know why I went. Closure, maybe. Or curiosity. Or some sick part of me that needed to see him small.
They sat me in a gray room with a plastic divider.
Kaelan walked in wearing an orange jumpsuit.
He’d lost weight. A lot of weight. His face was gaunt. His eyes were hollow. The cast was gone, but his right hand still hung at a weird angle—Ethan had done permanent damage.
When he saw me, he stopped walking.
“Vivian.”
His voice cracked.
I picked up the phone on my side of the glass.
He sat down and grabbed his.
“You came,” he whispered. “I knew you would. I knew you still—”
“I came to tell you something.” I cut him off. “I’m not here to forgive you. I’m not here to save you. I’m here to say goodbye.”