I Cancelled The Wedding While He Paid For Her Dream Dress Chapter 08

I Cancelled The Wedding While He Paid For Her Dream Dress Chapter 08

Reid was polishing a lens at the next table. “Not even a little sorry for him?”

I said quietly, “I’m not.”

A knock came at the courtyard gate.

A courier stood there, holding a small velvet box. Callum’s name was on the label.

Inside was the Cartier. My name was engraved on the underside of the band.

I shut the box and handed it back to the lodge owner. “Send it back. Return to sender.”

Reid raised an eyebrow. “That thing is worth a fortune. You could at least sell it.”

“If it feels dirty to me, I’m not passing it on to someone else.”

Callum got the package back, marked *Return to Sender*, while reporters swarmed the lobby of his corporate headquarters.

His assistant wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Mr. Harcourt, Brielle went live. She’s saying you set up the

whole thing at the rescue center. That you forced her into doing it for publicity.”

Callum stood behind the glass doors, the watch cold against his palm.

He opened his own account, not the corporate PR account, and posted for the first time.

Everything was in it. Brielle’s fake credentials. The charity donations she’d pocketed. How she’d talked him

into logging into my account.

[I was wrong about who she was, and because of that, I caused real damage to Maren. I’ll accept the legal

consequences.]

The internet ripped him apart anyway.

Some called it a performance. Others dug up the group chat, the bet over whose name went on the wedding

invitations.

Brielle fired back hours later, leaking evidence that Callum’s company had been running shell accounts, issued fake invoices, and buried competitors.

The two people who’d once protected each other were now tearing each other apart.

Callum sat in his empty office, watching his business partners drop out of the group chat. One by one. No goodbyes.

The finance manager opened the door. “Mr. Harcourt, the board just called an emergency meeting. And

three major investors are filing for breach of contract.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Handle what you can.”

The manager didn’t move. “We can’t. The credit lines are frozen. We’re hemorrhaging money.”

That night in Silverpine, I sat by the fireplace with a mug of hot cocoa, the cold pressing against the windows.

A traveler at the next table was scrolling through the news on his phone and laughed. “God, that couple going at each other online. They exposed everything. They’re both finished.”

I heard Callum’s name and turned my phone facedown on the table.

Reid slid a contract across the table. “Nat Geo project. Chief Traveling Veterinary Consultant, Red Mesa circuit. You in?”

I flipped to the first page. “I don’t have enough field experience for this.”

Reid tapped the page. “I decide who’s qualified. You’re good with animals, and you don’t fall apart when things go wrong. That’s rarer than you think.”

I looked at him. “Is this how you recruit everyone, Mr. Ellington?”

“I’m worse with everyone else.”

I smiled and picked up the pen. “Good pay, full coverage. I’d be stupid to say no.”

Reid watched me sign. When he spoke, the sharpness was gone. “Leaving the heavy baggage behind?”

I finished the last stroke and set the pen down. “Something like that. I’m just done carrying it.”

Rain was coming down the day Callum’s board forced him out for good.

He stood outside with a cardboard box, a few contracts, the watch, and the misprinted wedding invitation I’d sent back.

His mother called, already mid-tirade. “You dragged this family through the mud for that woman. Fix it. Go get Maren back. I don’t care what it takes.”

Callum watched the rain hit the invitation. Brielle’s name was still printed where mine should have been.

“She isn’t coming back.”

His mother’s voice went shrill. “Then grovel! Do whatever it takes. Just bring her back!”

He hung up and tried my number. The line was dead.

He stood there until dark. The rain soaked through his suit. When he finally unclenched his fist, the watch

had left a faw red mark on his palm.

The next morning, I left Silverpine with Reid’s crew.

The SUV moved through open country. I rolled my window down, and the wind pulled my hair loose.

Reid tossed me a scarf. “Don’t act tough. The wind up here will eat you alive.”

I took it and wrapped it around my neck. Thanks.”

His eyes stayed on the road. “This time,” he said, it wasn’t just because I was right there.”

I looked at him. He just held out the camera.

Gold light was breaking along the ridge of the mountains. I lifted the camera and pressed the shutter.