Chapter 1

Vivienne Hayes was on the verge of fulfilling her deepest longing: marrying Warren Mitchell, the man she’d dreamed of for years. The grand hall resonated with the triumphant wedding march as she glided down the aisle, her pristine white gown trailing over the crimson carpet. Ahead, Warren stood poised at the altar, his white suit illuminated by sunlight filtering through stained-glass windows. His sharp, elegant features—the very ones that had captivated her heart—seemed ethereal.

Three tumultuous years had forged their bond, a connection that endured despite her family's staunch disapproval. Now, against all odds, her vision of a life with him was unfolding. As Warren approached, extending the bouquet with a tender gesture, Vivienne felt tears welling, born of pure joy.

The priest, his gaze warm and steady, addressed them. “Do you, Warren Mitchell, take Vivienne Hayes as your wife? Do you vow to cherish her, honor her, stand by her through sickness and health, for all the days of your life?”

Vivienne’s pulse quickened, her eyes locking onto Warren’s with breathless anticipation. But instead of the radiant smile she expected, a shadow of doubt crossed his face. His brow furrowed, and a strange unease dimmed his eyes.

Before he could respond, the heavy doors at the back of the hall burst open. Diana Mitchell, Warren’s younger sister, staggered in, her face tear-streaked. “Warren, it’s terrible!” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Natalie… she’s… she’s in trouble!”

A chill swept through Vivienne; her fingers instinctively tightened around Warren’s hand. The name—Natalie Chambers—cut through her like a blade, dredging up memories she’d fought to bury. Natalie, the once untouchable star who had abandoned Warren years ago when the Mitchell family's fortunes crumbled, leaving him to rebuild his life with Vivienne. Yet, weeks before this day, Natalie had returned, her presence a quiet storm threatening their fragile happiness.

Warren’s face paled. “What’s happened to Natalie?” he asked, his voice sharp with alarm.

“She’s hurt—bleeding badly,” Diana sobbed. “The doctor says she might not survive!”

Instantly, Warren yanked his hand away and turned toward the exit. Desperation surged within Vivienne, and she lunged after him, seizing his arm. “Warren, you can’t go!” Her voice trembled as she pleaded, searching his eyes. “This is our wedding—our moment. Are you really walking away from it?”

Murmurs rippled through the onlookers, their judgmental stares piercing her. Tears welled in her eyes as she pressed on, her plea raw and vulnerable. “Can’t we at least finish what we started?”

Warren’s jaw tightened, his gaze distant and cold. “Natalie was hit by a car—she was protecting me. I owe her this.” He pulled free, his tone resolute. “Vivienne, let’s not pretend. This marriage was always a formality. You’re here to wear the title of Mrs. Mitchell, nothing more. My personal life isn’t your concern.”

The word "formality" struck her like a blow, reverberating through the hollow ache in her chest. She stared, stunned, as the truth crystallized. Her lips twisted into a faint, bitter smile. “So that’s it, then? All these years, all this love—it was just a contract to you?”