My Fiancé's Second Wedding - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

The parking garage gate refused to budge no matter how many times I scanned my code. Through the barrier, I spotted an unfamiliar luxury car parked in my reserved spot—the same one Jonah had promised me two months ago.
But the person stepping out wasn't me.
It was Nadia.
Her eyes flicked toward me, then deliberately away as she pulled out a bright red marriage certificate, waving it at Jonah like a trophy.
"Jonah," she announced, voice dripping with false sweetness, "first thing tomorrow, we'll go to City Hall and file for divorce. Wouldn't want to delay your wedding with Arabelle."
The only thing redder than that damn certificate were Nadia's tear-filled eyes.
Jonah reached out, ruffling her hair with that infuriatingly tender smile. "Silly girl," he murmured, voice thick with indulgence. "Arabelle would wait forever for me. What's a little longer?"
They walked off hand in hand toward our—no, their—home. I should've felt something—rage, heartbreak—but all that settled in my chest was a numb, bone-deep exhaustion.
I booked a hotel without thinking twice.
The room felt like a coffin. I changed into running gear and hit the nearest park, pounding the pavement until my lungs burned. Maybe the rhythm would drown out the betrayal gnawing at me.
Then I saw them.
Jonah and Nadia, fingers tangled, strolling under the moonlight. He used to hate night runs—claimed they were pointless. Yet here he was, trailing after her like a lovesick puppy as she giggled at some private joke.
I turned my music up and pivoted away.
Too bad I didn't notice the shadow tailing me.
A hand clamped over my mouth, yanking me backward with terrifying strength. My back slammed against a car door. In the reflection, I caught a glimpse of my attacker—a woman with Nadia's face, but sharper, angrier.
"You steal my daughter's man?" she snarled, breath hot against my ear. "You deserve to die."
My pulse skyrocketed. I thrashed, scanning the darkness for help—
And locked eyes with Zane.
He stood yards away, phone pressed to his ear. Our gazes met for one desperate second before he turned his back, his bodyguards following like obedient shadows.
The woman's grip was ironclad. Before I could scream, pain exploded at the base of my skull.
Everything went black.
I woke up tasting blood.
The motel room reeked of copper. Blinking through the haze, I spotted Nadia's mother sprawled on the floor, a dark pool spreading beneath her.
The door burst open.
Jonah stormed in, face twisted in fury, Nadia right behind him.
"Mom!" Her shriek pierced the air as she dropped to her knees, shaking the lifeless body. "Wake up! Please!"
Jonah paled at the blood—his notorious hemophobia kicking in—but he still managed to land a brutal kick to my ribs. The impact stole my breath.
"Arabelle," he spat, "you've crossed every line."
Nadia clung to him, sobbing hysterically. "It's my fault! I never should've—just save her, Jonah, please—"
Jonah shot Zane a venomous glare. "I told you to watch her!"
Zane didn't miss a beat. "She drove too fast. We lost her."
A perfect lie. Everyone knew my history with street racing.
Jonah crouched beside Nadia, stroking her hair. "She's strong. She'll pull through."
The "corpse" twitched.
I laughed, blood coating my teeth. "Cut the act, Nadia. Your mom's terrible at playing dead."
Nadia snapped.
With a guttural scream, she grabbed the bloody knife and lunged. Jonah caught her wrist just in time, wrenching the blade away before crushing her against his chest.
Her tears soaked his shirt as she wailed, "Take Jonah back! Just leave my mom alone!"
Jonah held her tighter, shooting me a look that could've melted steel.