Chapter 2

Hayley POV

The wedding reception was to be held on a private island Spencer had bought specifically for me.

As soon as we landed, the wedding planning director and her team greeted us, their voices respectful and envious.

"Ms. Hayley, as Mr. Spencer instructed, we've prepared a thousand varieties of Dutch tulips, air-freighted here for your selection. Would you like to visit the flower house now?"

I didn't speak, my gaze sweeping past everyone to Spencer, who stood a short distance away.

He was looking down at his phone, his eyes filled with that raw, undisguised desire. I'd only ever seen that look in his eyes when he viewed photos attached to that woman's audio diaries.

Noticing my gaze, Spencer immediately put away his phone and hurried over, his face etched with apology. "Hayley, there's a glitch at the company. A document needs my immediate signature in person. It can't wait; I have to leave right away."

With that, he pressed a kiss to my forehead and rushed towards another helicopter, which was already preparing for takeoff, leaving me alone on this island that was meant for me.

The planning director cautiously stepped forward. "Ms. Hayley, shall we-"

I cut him off with a shake of my head.

"No need. I don't want any of this."

After all, the star of this grand wedding would be a "missing" bride.

In the car back to the city, my burner phone pinged to life. An encrypted message came, sender unknown. An audio file. Only seconds long.

In the background, the rhythmic drip-drip of an IV machine. A fragile female voice, tinged with sobs, spoke haltingly. "The medicine...it's so bitter. And my hand...it hurts. But just thinking of you...I can...I can stand it."

Immediately after, a message from Spencer's black profile picture appeared.

"Be a good girl. I'll be there soon."

I turned off the screen, closed my eyes, and tried to suppress the gut-wrenching pain in my heart.

I thought I'd become numb after reading so many explicit diary entries and listening to so many intimate recordings.

But that bone-deep agony still easily swept over me.

Finally, I forced myself to lean back against the seat and set my phone to silent.

Late at night, I curled up in bed, my eyes red and sleepless. The phone beside my pillow pinged with encrypted message notifications every hour.

I didn't open them until dawn.

The number periodically sent photos-sometimes a hand hooked up to an IV, sometimes a half-finished cup of warm milk, sometimes the breaking dawn outside a window.

The last photo was accompanied by a line of text. "He says he only finds peace with me."

I lay motionless, just like that, my eyes red, staring at those photos again and again.

When Spencer returned, I hadn't changed my position. He seemed to pause for a moment, then lunged forward, pulling me into his arms, his voice tight. "Hayley, who hurt you?"

Had I cried?

I only then snapped back to reality, belatedly touching my cheeks. They were cold and wet.

After a long time, I managed a faint smile. But the smile couldn't hide the lifeless gaze in my eyes.

"Nothing, I just saw a really touching set of photos."

Spencer kissed my face, dotingly saying, "What photos made you cry like that? Babe, are you trying to give your husband a heart attack?"

Just as I was about to speak, the butler respectfully knocked on the door from outside. "Sir, the car is ready."

He hummed in response, then turned to kiss me again, still in his arms. "Hayley, it was my fault for leaving you alone on the island yesterday. As compensation, at tonight's charity auction, whatever you want, I'll bid on it for you, okay?"

I didn't answer.

He took my silence as consent, sweeping me into his arms and personally choosing my gown and jewelry.