Chapter 5
But for three straight days, Blake’s texts to Vivian go unanswered.
The blank chat screen makes his chest tight.
The news is flooded with reports of fishermen finding an unidentified female body-right near the kidnapping site.
As much as Charlotte satisfies his hero complex, Vivian has always been his designated future wife since childhood.
Then the bridal boutique calls: “Mrs. Hawthorne just phoned about altering her wedding dress. Since this is a custom piece, we need the designer’s approval.”
If Vivian’s still fussing over wedding details, she must be fine.
And she can’t be that mad at him.
His worries fade completely. “Do whatever it takes to meet my wife’s requests.”
But on the grand wedding day, the woman walking toward him is Charlotte.
Wearing Vivian’s dress.
What the hell?
Blake goes ice cold.
The wedding’s the last thing on his mind now. He needs to know if Vivian’s still alive.
Charlotte loops her arm through his, beaming. “Blake, I’m finally marrying you for real.”
He yanks his arm away. “When did I ever say I’d marry you?”
“Where’s Vivian? Are you two playing some sick joke on me?”
“Is she going to pop out any minute?”
Charlotte shakes her head. “She told me herself she wanted us to be together.”
Oblivious to his darkening expression, she keeps gushing: “Without Vivian, we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”
“I can finally stand by your side publicly.”
No longer pretending to be Vivian Sterling.
Blake runs through every scenario but can’t believe Vivian would willingly step aside for Charlotte.
He backs away, eyes cold. “Someone with your background? You really thought you could stand beside me?”
Charlotte freezes, shocked by the 180° turn from the man who was sweet-talking her yesterday.
Jealousy takes over. “So everything you said in bed was a lie?”
He laughs at her naivety. “That’s just pillow talk. Basic hook-up etiquette.”
“Don’t tell me you took it seriously?”
Blake walks out.
He races to Vivian’s house but finds dust on the door locks.
19:52
You Chose the Bastard? Then Prove It’s Yours
19.8%
Chapter 5
His phone rings. He grabs it desperately, but it’s just the hospital billing department.
“Miss Sterling’s hospital bill remains unpaid. Could you come in to settle the account?”
After some questions, he learns the truth: after he took her from the hospital that day, Vivian never returned.
Blake searches everywhere but finds no trace of Vivian.
The news about the unidentified body floods back into his mind.
In his panic, he calls the rescue team-only to get cussed out. “What rescue? Didn’t our deal fall through?”
“You agreed to my face, then your woman calls saying she wants a 20% discount.”
“We risk our lives for that money, man.”
So the rescue team never even showed up that day.
Yet he had confidently promised Vivian she would survive.
“What woman?” Blake demands.
“Don’t play dumb! She insisted we call her Mrs. Hawthorne.”
“Number started with 917…”
That’s Charlotte’s number.
Blake smashes his phone against the wall, exploding it into pieces.
The kidnapping? Bullshit. The rescue team? Never existed. His wife’s death? The only real fucking thing.
It’s 90 degrees outside, but Blake feels arctic cold in his bones.
Today should’ve been their wedding. He and Vivian should be saying “I do” with champagne flowing.
Instead, she’s a corpse somewhere. The celebration turned funeral.
At the morgue, he stares at the sheet-covered body. One step closer and the stench hits him like a truck.
The woman who dragged him to Paris Fashion Week, who had a 50-page honeymoon itinerary color-coded by country, now fits on a metal slab smaller than their dining table.
Blake can’t make himself step any closer.
Backing away, his eyes catch the ID card they found with the body.
That ID-the one Vivian dragged him to get on her 18th birthday.
She’d done a full-on glam look that day. “Don’t you want to document this historic moment?” she’d teased.
The DMV rejected her photos for being “too enhanced.” She had to wipe it all off and reshoot.
Vivian was livid. “That photobooth guy swore they’d accept it!” She chucked the glamour shots in the trash.
He fished that rejected photo out later and slipped it into his wallet.
His buddies gave him endless shit for carrying a “grandpa wallet” in the age of Apple Pay.
Blake never cared. Because that wallet held the picture of the woman he loved.
19:52
You Chose the Bastard? Then Prove It’s Yours
20.1%
