“Don’t forget—every resource in this city is under my control.”
“Then give the whole city to Nova,” I replied evenly. “At least I’m
still willing to pretend I once loved you.”
A sharp exhale came through the receiver, followed by a breath heavy
with suppressed anger.
“You’ll have to live with your choices,” he said.
“I already am,” I murmured, and ended the call.
I didn’t expect that our conversation wasn’t over yet.
Five minutes later, a message arrived.
It was a photo.
In the picture, Lucas stood in a brightly lit banquet hall, holding a
bouquet of white roses, smiling as he slid a ring onto Nova’s finger.
Behind them, the musicians were playing A Thousand Years—
the same song that was supposed to play on my wedding day.
I stared at the screen, my fingers curling slowly into a fist.
A smile tugged at my lips, but it felt strange, unfamiliar—like it
belonged to someone else.
Another photo followed.
A preview of their wedding invitation.
Gold lettering across the cream paper read:
“Lucas & Nova — 11.11.”
That was the exact date I had arranged to leave for Paris with Solomon.
It struck me then—
as if the world had pressed “reset” at that very moment.
He was beginning a new marriage,