Chapter 1
Everyone in Los Angeles knew me as the perfect good girl.
So good that even after my fiancé, Filbert Sullivan, left me at the altar 98 times, I still forgave him.
Until our 99th attempt at our wedding, when someone anonymously sent us a wedding gift. A 150,000 dollars in cash.
Just as the screen was about to show our wedding photos, the image suddenly cut to a livestream. It was Nancy Wallace. She was being auctioned off for her first night–with a final bid of 150,000 dollars.
Her eyes shimmered with tears as she stared into the camera like it was the final goodbye of her life.
“Filbert, if I can’t be your wife, then there’s no reason for me to hold onto my purity.
“I just hope you’ll never forget me.
Filbert didn’t hesitate. He dropped our wedding rings on the spot and ran
after her.
Everyone in the crowd gasped–but they weren’t shocked. They all knew
the truth.
I loved Filbert, but Filbert only had eyes for Nancy–the woman who once saved his life.
People were even placing bets on whether we’d make it to our 100th wedding attempt.
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But I knew better. There wouldn’t be a 100th time.
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And I also knew Filbert would come to regret everything because I was the one who actually saved his life.
***
After smoothly seeing off the last of the guests, I pulled out my phone and made a call.
“Does the promise we made ten years ago still count?”
A quiet laugh came through the receiver. “Of course it does.”
By the time I hung up, the internet was already on fire with headlines about Filbert losing his mind over a girl.
He’d stormed the auction house, ignoring every rule, paid 3 million to take Nancy away, and beat up all the men who dared to bid on her.
The trending topic was blowing up with gossip and fan theories.
A few comments mentioned he had a fiancée.
But those got drowned out pretty fast by ones like, “The one he doesn’t love is the real third wheel.”
Then, Nancy updated her social media.
“Three years of waiting. Tonight, I finally got what I wanted.”
She posted a picture. Shredded clothes scattered across the floor, a streak of red on the bedsheets, and a sleeping Filbert
Pxt to it.
I didn’t lose it like I had during the first 98 weddings. Didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. I just gave the post a like. And commented. “99.”
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Not even half an hour later, Filbert called.
“It took me forever to calm Nancy down, and now you’re being passive- aggressive in the comments?
“I swear, this is the last time. She won’t act out again.”
I honestly couldn’t remember how many times he’d told me, “This is the last time.”
First wedding? Nancy pretended to kill herself.
Second wedding? She faked a pregnancy.
Third time? She threw a stack of 20,000 dollars in my face and told me to leave Filbert.
Every single time, she pulled some dramatic stunt–and every single time, Filbert let her.
His only explanation was always the same, “It’s the last time.”
And yet, the next one always came right on schedule.
Eventually, I got the message, “Guys like him don’t mean what they say.”
So this time, I simply said, “Filbert, there is no next time. We’re done.”
He went silent for a while. Then, I just hung up.
When I got home, I realized the door lock had been changed.
I was about to call a locksmith when the front door opened.
Nancy leaned against the frame in my camisole, looking smug and satisfied.
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“Filbert was worried about me being out there all alone, so he let me move in. Oh–he didn’t tell you?”
Right as she said that Filbert walked out, shirtless.
His chest was covered in red marks–lipstick and nail scratches.
“Nancy’s still kind of unstable,” he said. “So I thought it’d be best for her to stay here for a while.
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“She might forget the old password, so I changed it to her birthday.”
I nodded and stepped around him to go inside.
When he saw me pull out a suitcase, panic flashed across his face.
“Where are you going?”
Like he’d already forgotten I’d broken up with him half an hour ago.
He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me as if nothing happened. “Hey, what if I take you to Iceland next month for Christmas? You know, to see the northern lights?”
Before he could finish, a soft moan came from the front door.
“Nancy, are you okay?”
Filbert’s attention shifted instantly.
He stared at Nancy’s delicate face, unable to hide the worry in his
eyes.
“Filbert, my chest feels tight. Maybe it’s a reaction to that diffuser from the auction.”
He didn’t hesitate–just picked her up in his arms like she might break. The whole time, he never once looked back at me.
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Right before the bedroom door closed, Nancy locked eyes with me, a smug little smirk on her face.
I let out a soft laugh.
I wanted to tell her she really didn’t need to try this hard.
A few minutes later, their moans started echoing from the bedroom.
I sighed.
My chest didn’t ache like I’d expected. Instead, I felt free, like a weight had finally been lifted.
They got what they wanted. Now, it was time for me to keep my ten–year- old promise.
