Three years ago, just before our wedding, one of Seth's friends had hurled vicious accusations at me.
"You're a gambler's daughter. Don't tell me you paid off daddy's debts with your own body?"
"Zoe Winfield is the one he actually loves. You're delusional."
Back then, Seth had knocked him to the ground with a single punch, beaten him until his face was purple and swollen, then ran over his leg with a car, crippling him.
Seth's voice had been ice-cold when he warned him.
"Say one more word. The Vance family has more than enough ways to make you disappear."
But now that same man stood right beside Seth, whole and unharmed, without a trace of injury.
Only now did I understand: promises that burned so hot meant nothing once the love ran cold.
In the distance, the crowd was still laughing and gossiping, but I couldn't hear a word of it anymore.
So the whole rescue, the whole knight-in-shining-armor act—it had all been a show they'd staged to toy with me.
And I'd believed every second of it like a fool.
I'd even been planning to make things right with Seth.