The Fortune Teller Said I Was Bad Luck, I Brought Them Worse Chapter 04

The Fortune Teller Said I Was Bad Luck, I Brought Them Worse Chapter 04

The dealership was brightly lit; the new cars sparkled under the showroom lights.

Jason greeted me, eyes crinkled in a smile. “Ms. Morgan, you’re decisive! That white A4 just arrived yesterday, top trim, you have excellent taste!”

I followed him, listening as he went over the features, performance, and promotions. But I wasn’t hearing any of it.

My mind replayed another scene: Guests arrived steadily, the hotel buzzing with quiet excitement.

Mom wore a deep red gown, Dad’s tie the one we’d chosen together last weekend. Gavin, in the dark gray suit I had picked for him, stood at the entrance greeting each arrival.

Someone would ask, “Where’s Isabella?”

What would they say?

“She has something come up, will be late.” Or, “She isn’t feeling well, resting.”

Or, if they were brutally honest, “She shouldn’t be here, her presence could disrupt the ceremony.”

A hand waved in front of my face. “Ms. Morgan? Ms. Morgan? Are you ready for a test drive?” Jason’s voice pulled me back.

“No,” I said. “This one. Let’s finalize the paperwork.”

As I swiped my card, I watched the numbers climb on the POS machine, feeling numb.

This money had been saved for my own apartment, my future. Now it was gone, spent on a car I might never even use.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, over and over. I pulled it out—seventeen missed calls. Eight from Mom, three from Dad, six from Gavin.

Dozens of unread messages in the family group.

My au t’s message stood out: [Isabella hasn’t arrived yet? Isn’t the wedding prep supposed to start at nine?]

No one got a reply.

I turned the phone off.