Chapter 1 - Ninety Minutes Before Her Wedding, She Heard Her Fiancé Laugh About Stealing Her Family's Land—Then She Climbed Into a Stranger's Truck During a Snowstorm
Ninety minutes before I was supposed to become Mrs. Caleb Royce, I discovered that the man I loved had never wanted to marry me.
He wanted my land.
Not my heart.
Not the future we had planned.
Not the children we had talked about having someday.
He wanted two hundred forty acres of mountain property that had belonged to my family for four generations.
And he was willing to stand in front of two hundred wedding guests, promise to love me forever, and spend our honeymoon planning how to take it.
My name is Nora Bellamy.
Until that December afternoon, I believed the worst thing that could happen on my wedding day was a snowstorm.
I was wrong.
The worst thing was hearing my fiancé laugh about how easy I was to manipulate.
And the strangest thing was that losing him would lead me straight into the truck of a man who had every reason to stay away from my family.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Let me start with the moment everything fell apart.
***
The ballroom at Raven Ridge Lodge looked like something out of a winter fairy tale.
White roses spilled from silver vases. Pine garlands wrapped around the wooden beams, and hundreds of tiny lights twinkled beneath the vaulted ceiling.
Outside the enormous windows, snow fell over the Green Mountains of Vermont.
Inside, two hundred guests waited for a wedding that had taken eleven months to plan.
My wedding.
I was wearing an ivory silk gown that cost more than my first used truck.
My hair had been pinned into a loose twist, with a few curls framing my face.
My grandmother's pearl earrings hung from my ears.
And somewhere in the building, my eighty-two-year-old grandfather was probably hiding from the photographer.
Silas Bellamy hated photographs.
He also hated neckties, expensive restaurants, and anyone who used the word "synergy" in a sentence.
He had been my entire world since I was twelve.
That was the year my parents died in a highway accident outside Burlington.
Grandpa raised me on Bellamy Farm, a sprawling property nestled between wooded hills and a narrow river.
We didn't have much money.
Our barns needed repairs.
The tractors were older than I was.
And every winter, we worried about whether the heating bills would swallow whatever savings we'd managed to put aside.
But we had the land.
We had our animals.
And we had each other.
Grandpa taught me how to deliver calves, repair broken fences, and recognize the smell of rain before the first cloud appeared.
He also taught me that a person's word should mean something.
Maybe that was why I believed Caleb.
Because when Caleb Royce told me he loved me, I thought he meant it.
***
Caleb was thirty-six, handsome in the polished way men in expensive advertisements were handsome.
He had perfect teeth, tailored suits, and the kind of confidence that made people listen when he spoke.
He worked as director of expansion for Northline Mountain Group, a powerful resort-development company with properties across New England.
We met fourteen months earlier at a charity auction.
I had donated a weekend horseback-riding package to raise money for the county animal shelter.
Caleb bid three thousand dollars.
I thought he was crazy.
He told me he simply wanted an excuse to spend time with the woman running the auction table.
He was charming.
Attentive.
Thoughtful.
He remembered my favorite coffee.
He brought flowers to my veterinary clinic.
He drove two hours through freezing rain once because I mentioned I was too exhausted to cook dinner.
When he met Grandpa, he didn't act uncomfortable around the farm.
He rolled up his sleeves.
Helped repair a fence.
Carried firewood.
And listened to Grandpa tell the same stories over and over.
One Sunday afternoon, Caleb stood beside the old sugarhouse watching steam rise from the maple evaporator.
"This place is incredible," he told me.
I smiled.
"It's falling apart."
"No," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist. "It has roots."
I remember leaning against him and thinking I had finally found someone who understood me.
Three months later, he proposed beneath the oldest maple tree on the property.
I said yes before he finished asking.
Looking back, I wonder whether he had already calculated how much that tree was worth.
***
At 1:40 that afternoon, I left the bridal suite to find Grandpa.
The ceremony was scheduled for 3:10.
He had disappeared after complaining that the photographer kept making him pose like a department-store mannequin.
I suspected he'd gone looking for coffee.
Or pie.
Preferably both.
I lifted the hem of my dress and walked barefoot through the service hallway behind the ballroom.
My shoes were still upstairs.
I had taken them off because they pinched my toes.
I was halfway past a conference room when I heard Caleb's voice.
"You're worrying about nothing."
I stopped.
His best man, Brandon Hale, laughed.
"I'm worrying because Silas still hasn't signed."
I frowned.
Signed what?
Caleb answered casually.
"He will."
"And if he doesn't?"
A pause.
Then Caleb said, "Nora will."
I felt a strange chill.
Brandon lowered his voice.
"Does she know what the East Pass is worth?"
Caleb laughed.
"Nora knows how to deliver a foal at three in the morning. She knows how to fix a broken fence. She knows which maple trees her great-grandfather planted."
Another pause.
"But she doesn't know what two hundred forty acres of mountain access are worth to Northline."
My heart began pounding.
The East Pass.
Our family's eastern ridge.
The land Grandpa had spent his life protecting.
The land that would become mine in January when his estate plan and family trust were finalized.
I moved closer to the half-open door.
Brandon asked, "What about the option agreement?"
"It's in the refinancing packet."
"What refinancing packet?"
"The one she'll sign after the honeymoon."
I pressed my hand against the wall.
Caleb continued.
"Seventy-three pages. Equipment financing, barn repairs, clinic expansion. The development option is buried in the exhibits."
Brandon whistled.
"And once she signs?"
"Northline gets access across the ridge. We connect Raven Ridge to the eastern slopes and build the largest private ski corridor in northern Vermont."
I felt sick.
Caleb had spent months encouraging me to refinance the farm.
He said it would help us expand the veterinary clinic.
He said we could repair the barns, purchase new equipment, and finally stop worrying about money.
He told me he had arranged everything.
All I needed to do was sign.
I had thanked him.
I had kissed him.
I had told him I didn't know what I'd do without him.
Inside the room, Brandon laughed.
"And your reward?"
"Executive committee seat. Equity. Regional president within eighteen months."
"That's a hell of a wedding present."
Caleb chuckled.
"She gets her little clinic. Everybody wins."
My fingers went numb.
My little clinic.
The business I had built from nothing.
The place where I worked sixteen-hour days caring for injured animals and families who sometimes couldn't afford to pay.
To Caleb, it was a little clinic.
Just another thing he could use to keep me happy while he took what mattered most.
Brandon asked, "What if she reads the paperwork?"
Caleb sighed.
"She trusts me."
"That's not what I asked."
"Nora hates financial stuff. She gets overwhelmed. I explain it, she signs it."
Then he laughed.
"She always comes around."
Something inside me broke.
Quietly.
Completely.
I wanted to burst through the door.
I wanted to demand an explanation.
I wanted to scream that he had no right to treat my family's land like a prize he'd won.
But my feet wouldn't move.
I stood there listening as the man I was supposed to marry discussed my future like a business acquisition.
Then Brandon said something worse.
"Does the old man suspect?"
Caleb's voice changed.
"Silas is a problem."
My stomach twisted.
"What kind of problem?"
"He knows the land's value. He won't sell. He won't negotiate. And he keeps warning Nora not to trust corporate developers."
Brandon laughed.
"Smart old man."
"Stubborn old man."
A pause.
"Once Nora and I are married, he'll have less influence."
I closed my eyes.
Caleb wasn't just planning to steal the land.
He was planning to separate me from the only family I had left.
Then Brandon asked, "And if Silas refuses to transfer the trust?"
Caleb answered so casually that I nearly missed the cruelty.
"He's eighty-two. Time is on our side."
I stopped breathing.
My grandfather was not a problem to be managed.
He was not an obstacle.
He was the man who had held me when I cried for my parents.
The man who stayed awake beside my bed when I had pneumonia.
The man who sold his favorite tractor so I could finish veterinary school.
And Caleb was waiting for him to die.
I backed away.
My wedding dress brushed against the wall.
I barely noticed.
All I knew was that I could not marry Caleb Royce.
Not today.
Not ever.
***
I walked through the service corridor in a daze.
A teenage busboy nearly collided with me.
"Ma'am? Are you okay?"
I nodded.
I wasn't.
At the ballroom entrance, the wedding coordinator spotted me.
"Nora! There you are. We're almost ready for the final photographs."
I kept walking.
"Nora?"
I pushed through a side exit.
Cold air struck my face.
Snow whipped across the parking lot.
I had no coat.
No purse.
No phone.
No keys.
My truck was seven miles away at the farm because Caleb had insisted the bridal party arrive in chauffeured vehicles.
I understood that decision differently now.
I gathered my dress and ran.
Snow soaked my stockings.
My bare shoulders burned.
Behind me, someone shouted my name.
I didn't turn.
I ran past rows of expensive cars, past a delivery van, past a maintenance building.
Then I saw a dark blue pickup truck.
Its engine was running.
The headlights were on.
The rear door was unlocked.
I opened it and climbed inside.
A wool blanket lay on the floor.
I pulled it over my shoulders and curled behind the front seats.
My teeth chattered.
I couldn't stop shaking.
I had no idea whose truck it was.
I didn't care.
All I wanted was to disappear.
A minute later, the driver's door opened.
A man climbed in.
A large black-and-gray dog jumped onto the passenger seat.
"Come on, Juneau."
The door slammed.
The truck moved.
I froze beneath the blanket.
I should have said something.
I knew that.
But I couldn't make my voice work.
The tires crunched through snow.
The vehicle turned.
And Raven Ridge Lodge disappeared behind us.
***
Nine minutes later, the dog found me.
I heard claws against the center console.
Then warm breath brushed my face.
I opened my eyes.
A large dog stared at me.
One ear stood upright.
The other tilted slightly sideways.
His expression suggested he had discovered something deeply interesting.
"No," I whispered.
His tail wagged.
"Please don't."
He leaned closer.
Then licked my forehead.
I sneezed.
The truck braked hard.
I slid forward and struck the back of the passenger seat.
The overhead light came on.
The driver turned around.
He looked about forty.
Broad shoulders.
Dark hair with silver beginning at one temple.
A strong jaw.
Gray eyes.
He wore a charcoal work jacket and looked like someone more comfortable outdoors than inside a ballroom.
His gaze moved from my face to the wedding dress.
Then to my bare feet.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he asked, "Are you hurt?"
I swallowed.
"No."
"Is somebody trying to hurt you?"
I hesitated.
"Not exactly."
He studied me.
"That's not a very reassuring answer."
"I'm sorry."
He glanced toward the road.
Then back at me.
"Did you get into my truck voluntarily?"
I nodded.
"Did anyone force you?"
"No."
"Are you running from someone?"
My eyes filled.
"Yes."
His expression changed.
He turned off the engine.
We sat in silence while snow struck the windshield.
Finally, he said, "Okay."
I blinked.
"Okay?"
"Let's start with your name."
"Nora."
"Nora what?"
I hesitated.
"Bellamy."
Something flickered across his face.
It happened so quickly I almost missed it.
His jaw tightened.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Then his expression became unreadable.
"Bellamy," he repeated.
I nodded.
"Do you know me?"
He looked toward the windshield.
"Not personally."
There was something strange about the way he said it.
I pulled the blanket tighter.
"What's your name?"
"Wyatt."
"Wyatt what?"
He hesitated.
"Thorne."
I nodded.
"Thank you for not throwing me out."
He looked at the snow-covered road.
"Wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I left a barefoot bride freezing beside the highway."
I looked down at my dress.
For the first time, I realized how ridiculous I must look.
My hair was falling apart.
My makeup had run.
My wedding gown was covered in snow and dirt.
I started laughing.
It was a terrible sound.
Half laughter.
Half sobbing.
Wyatt watched me quietly.
Then he reached into the glove compartment and handed me a packet of tissues.
"Here."
I took them.
"Thanks."
He nodded toward the front seat.
"Why don't you come up here? The heater works better."
I hesitated.
He added, "Juneau can supervise."
The dog wagged his tail.
Despite everything, I smiled.
I climbed into the passenger seat.
Juneau moved reluctantly to the space between us.
Wyatt adjusted the heater.
Warm air blew across my frozen hands.
Then he reached behind his seat and pulled out a thick flannel jacket.
"Put this on."
I stared at it.
"Won't you be cold?"
He looked at me.
"I'm wearing three layers. You're wearing a wedding cake."
I laughed.
A real laugh this time.
I slipped into the jacket.
It smelled faintly of cedar, coffee, and cold mountain air.
For some reason, that made me want to cry again.
***
Wyatt started driving.
"Where do you need to go?"
I stared at the road.
"I don't know."
He nodded as though that were a perfectly reasonable answer.
"Do you have family nearby?"
"My grandfather."
"Where?"
"Bellamy Farm."
His hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
"Silas Bellamy?"
I turned.
"You know Grandpa?"
"Know of him."
"How?"
Wyatt looked at the road.
"Small county."
That was true.
But something about his answer bothered me.
I studied him.
"Are you from around here?"
"Mostly."
"Mostly?"
He smiled faintly.
"Spent some years away."
I looked toward the snow.
"Can you take me to the farm?"
He hesitated.
"Eventually."
I turned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means the county road is closing. There's a storm warning, and the bridge near Bellamy Creek is already icing over."
My stomach tightened.
"I need to get home."
"I understand."
"No, you don't."
He glanced at me.
I looked away.
"Sorry."
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, "You don't owe me an explanation. But if someone at that lodge is looking for you, I need to know whether they're dangerous."
I swallowed.
"My fiancé."
Wyatt didn't speak.
"I was supposed to get married today."
"I gathered that."
I looked down at the dress.
"He lied to me."
Wyatt waited.
"He wants my family's land."
His expression changed.
"East Pass?"
I turned sharply.
"How do you know about East Pass?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "A lot of people know about that property."
My pulse quickened.
"Are you connected to Northline?"
His eyes met mine.
"No."
"Do you work for Caleb Royce?"
"No."
"Do you know him?"
A pause.
"Yes."
My stomach dropped.
I moved toward the door.
Wyatt immediately slowed the truck.
"Nora."
"Stop the car."
He pulled onto the shoulder.
I reached for the handle.
"Please don't get out in this weather," he said calmly. "But if you want to, I won't stop you."
I froze.
He wasn't locking the doors.
He wasn't grabbing my arm.
He wasn't telling me I was being unreasonable.
He was giving me a choice.
Something Caleb had slowly stopped doing months ago.
I looked at Wyatt.
"How do you know him?"
His jaw tightened.
"Business."
"What kind of business?"
"Complicated business."
I laughed bitterly.
"That's what Caleb always says when he doesn't want to tell me something."
Wyatt looked at me for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"Fair enough."
He turned off the engine.
"Caleb Royce and I were involved in a property dispute several years ago."
I stared at him.
"Over what?"
"A mountain development."
"Did he win?"
Wyatt's expression hardened.
"Not exactly."
"What happened?"
"He made promises he couldn't keep."
I felt sick.
"That sounds familiar."
Wyatt looked at my dress.
"Did you hear something today?"
I hesitated.
Then I told him.
Not everything.
Just enough.
The conference room.
The refinancing packet.
The East Pass.
The development option.
And Caleb's plan to make me sign after our honeymoon.
Wyatt listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he stared through the windshield.
"Did you sign anything?"
I shook my head.
"Not yet."
"Good."
The word came out sharply.
I looked at him.
"Why?"
He turned toward me.
"Nora, listen carefully. Don't sign anything Caleb gives you. Not a loan application. Not a trust document. Not even a receipt unless someone independent reviews it first."
I felt my heart pounding.
"Why?"
His expression was grim.
"Because an access option on East Pass could be worth far more than you realize."
I swallowed.
"How much?"
He hesitated.
"Potentially tens of millions."
I stared at him.
The number meant nothing.
Tens of millions?
Our farm?
The same place where Grandpa patched the barn roof with leftover tin?
The same place where I worried about replacing a broken water heater?
"That can't be right."
Wyatt looked at me.
"It depends on what rights are attached and what approvals can be obtained. But Northline wouldn't be chasing the property if it were worthless."
I stared at my hands.
Caleb had known.
All along.
He had watched me worry about money while planning to use my ignorance to make himself rich.
I covered my face.
"I'm so stupid."
Wyatt's voice changed.
"Don't say that."
I shook my head.
"I trusted him."
"Trusting someone isn't stupidity."
"He played me for fourteen months."
"Then that tells you something about him."
I looked up.
Wyatt held my gaze.
"Not about you."
For some reason, those words broke through the numbness.
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
I tried to stop them.
Couldn't.
Wyatt didn't tell me to calm down.
He didn't say everything happened for a reason.
He simply turned the heater higher and waited.
***
Twenty minutes later, the snow became a wall of white.
Visibility dropped.
The road disappeared beneath drifting powder.
Wyatt slowed the truck.
"We can't make it to Bellamy Farm tonight."
I looked up.
"What?"
"The eastern bridge is closed. The alternate route is worse."
My chest tightened.
"Then where are we going?"
"My cabin."
I stared at him.
He immediately added, "It's about fifteen minutes from here. I have a working fireplace, food, and a landline. You can call your grandfather from there."
I hesitated.
He looked at me.
"If you'd rather go somewhere public, there's a gas station about six miles back. We can try that."
I studied his face.
He wasn't pressuring me.
He was offering options.
I looked at Juneau.
The dog had fallen asleep with his head on my knee.
"Does your cabin have more dogs?"
Wyatt smiled.
"Just this troublemaker."
I took a breath.
"Okay."
He nodded.
"Okay."
***
The cabin sat at the end of a narrow road surrounded by tall pine trees.
It wasn't what I expected.
From the outside, it looked rustic.
Weathered cedar siding.
A stone chimney.
A wide porch covered in snow.
But inside, it was warm and beautiful.
Exposed wooden beams crossed the ceiling.
A large fireplace stood against one wall.
Books filled several shelves.
And enormous windows overlooked a frozen lake.
I stopped in the doorway.
"Wow."
Wyatt glanced around.
"It's nothing fancy."
I looked at the polished hardwood floors and handcrafted furniture.
"Your definition of fancy is different from mine."
He smiled.
"Probably."
Juneau ran toward a large dog bed beside the fireplace.
Wyatt handed me a pair of thick socks.
"They're clean."
I looked down at my wet stockings.
"Thank you."
He pointed toward the hallway.
"Bathroom's on the left. There's a guest room at the end. I'll find you something dry to wear."
I hesitated.
"Wyatt?"
He turned.
"Yes?"
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
He studied me.
For a moment, something sad crossed his face.
Then he said, "Because somebody should be."
My throat tightened.
He disappeared down the hallway.
I stood alone in the warm cabin, still wearing my wedding dress.
And realized that a complete stranger had shown me more respect in one hour than my fiancé had shown me in months.
***
After changing into borrowed sweatpants and a thick sweater, I called Grandpa from Wyatt's landline.
He answered on the third ring.
"Nora?"
My eyes filled.
"Grandpa."
"Where the hell are you?"
I started crying.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't you apologize to me, girl. Are you safe?"
"Yes."
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
He exhaled.
"Thank God."
I sat down.
"Grandpa, I can't marry Caleb."
There was a long silence.
Then he said, "Good."
I blinked.
"What?"
"Good."
I stared at the phone.
"You knew?"
"I knew he was too interested in the East Pass."
My chest tightened.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried."
I closed my eyes.
He had.
Several times.
He had asked why Caleb wanted to know about the trust.
He had questioned the refinancing plan.
He had warned me not to rush into signing anything.
And I had defended Caleb.
Every time.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
Grandpa's voice softened.
"Sweetheart, you don't owe me an apology for loving someone."
I began crying harder.
He continued.
"But you do owe yourself the chance to walk away when that person proves he doesn't deserve you."
I wiped my cheeks.
"Caleb was planning to take the East Pass."
"I suspected."
"He wanted me to sign an option agreement."
Grandpa went silent.
Then he asked, "Did you sign?"
"No."
"Good girl."
I took a shaky breath.
"Grandpa, I'm at a cabin with a man named Wyatt Thorne."
Silence.
A different kind of silence.
"Grandpa?"
His voice changed.
"Wyatt Thorne?"
"Yes."
"Dark hair? Gray eyes?"
I frowned.
"Yes."
"About forty?"
"Yes."
Grandpa said something under his breath that I couldn't hear.
Then he asked, "Is he there?"
"Yes."
"Put him on the phone."
I looked toward the kitchen.
Wyatt stood beside the counter, making tea.
"Wyatt?"
He looked up.
"My grandfather wants to speak to you."
His expression changed.
Slowly.
He set down the mug.
Walked toward me.
And took the receiver.
"Silas."
I stared at him.
He hadn't asked who was calling.
He already knew.
Grandpa said something.
Wyatt listened.
Then he looked at me.
His expression was unreadable.
"I understand," he said.
A pause.
"No. She doesn't know."
My heart began pounding.
Doesn't know what?
Wyatt turned slightly away.
"Silas, I didn't plan this."
Another pause.
"I know what I promised."
I stood.
Promised?
What promise?
Wyatt closed his eyes.
Then said quietly, "She's safe with me."
He listened for another moment.
"Yes. I'll tell her when the time is right."
He hung up.
I stared at him.
"What was that?"
Wyatt didn't answer.
"How do you know my grandfather?"
He looked toward the fire.
"Nora—"
"No."
My voice shook.
"Please don't do that."
He turned back.
"Do what?"
"Talk to me like there's something I can't handle."
His expression softened.
I stepped closer.
"Caleb lied to me for fourteen months. I ran away from my wedding. I climbed into a stranger's truck. And now that stranger apparently has a secret agreement with my grandfather."
I swallowed.
"I can't take another lie."
Wyatt looked at me for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"You're right."
I waited.
He took a breath.
"Your grandfather and I have known each other for a long time."
"How long?"
"Almost twenty years."
I stared at him.
"That's impossible. I've never met you."
"No," he said quietly. "You haven't."
"Why?"
He looked away.
"Because Silas asked me to stay away."
My stomach dropped.
"Why would he do that?"
Wyatt's jaw tightened.
"Because of something that happened to your father."
I stopped breathing.
My father.
The man who had died when I was twelve.
The man whose photograph sat beside my bed.
The man Grandpa rarely discussed without getting tears in his eyes.
"What does my father have to do with you?"
Wyatt looked at me.
And for the first time since we'd met, I saw genuine fear in his expression.
Not fear of danger.
Fear of hurting someone.
"Nora," he said slowly, "there's something about your parents' accident that you've never been told."
The room seemed to tilt.
I grabbed the back of a chair.
"What?"
He took a step toward me.
I stepped back.
"Tell me."
Wyatt closed his eyes.
Then he whispered, "Your father wasn't supposed to be on that road the night he died."
I stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
Before he could answer, headlights swept across the cabin windows.
A vehicle had turned into the driveway.
Wyatt's expression changed instantly.
He moved toward the window.
Juneau stood and growled.
I looked outside.
A black SUV stopped beside Wyatt's truck.
Two men climbed out.
Then a third.
Even through the falling snow, I recognized the expensive dark coat.
The perfect hair.
The familiar confident walk.
Caleb.
My fiancé.
The man I had abandoned at the altar.
He looked directly toward the cabin.
Then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
A moment later, Wyatt's phone began ringing.
Wyatt looked at the screen.
His jaw tightened.
"Don't answer it," I whispered.
He looked at me.
Then at the men outside.
And said something that made my blood run cold.
"Nora, Caleb didn't find you by accident."
I stared at him.
"What?"
Wyatt's voice dropped.
"He's been looking for this cabin for years."
I felt my knees weaken.
"Why?"
Wyatt looked directly into my eyes.
"Because the land underneath it is the one piece of the East Pass your grandfather doesn't own."
Outside, Caleb began walking toward the front door.
Wyatt continued.
"And because I'm the man who has been stopping Northline from taking your family's mountain."
A heavy knock echoed through the cabin.
Then Caleb shouted through the door.
"Nora! I know you're in there!"
I stood frozen.
Wyatt moved between me and the entrance.
Juneau growled.
Caleb knocked again.
Louder.
"Nora, sweetheart, open the door. We need to talk!"
I looked at Wyatt.
He didn't move.
He simply asked, "Do you want to see him?"
I stared at the door.
At the man who had betrayed me.
At the future I had almost surrendered.
Then I took a breath.
"No."
Wyatt nodded.
"Then you don't have to."
For the first time that day, I believed someone meant what he said.
But outside, Caleb's voice changed.
The tenderness disappeared.
And the man beneath the charming smile finally revealed himself.
"Wyatt! Open this damn door!"
A pause.
Then he shouted words that made my heart stop.
"Tell Nora what you did to her father!"
I turned toward Wyatt.
May you like
His face had gone pale.
And suddenly I understood that the stranger who had saved me from one betrayal might be carrying a secret even bigger than the one that destroyed my wedding.
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