You're the Master of Lies, Sweetheart

Over the years, Carol had always been a wedge between Sloan and Wyatt. At first, Sloan had thought Carol was just a lonely little girl craving love, which was why she tolerated her constant interference. Maybe it was because they both had difficult upbringings that Sloan even treated Carol with affection, almost like a little sister. But Carol never appreciated it. Instead, she would deliberately share a bowl of food with Wyatt, drink from the same glass and even sleep in the same bed—right in front of Sloan. And then, Carol had the audacity to say, “Sloan! As long as I’m around, you’ll never have Wyatt fully. He loves me the most. If you insist on being blind about this, don’t blame me when you’re left with nothing but an empty title as Mrs. Finley!” Sloan had brushed it off at the time, confident that Wyatt’s love and respect for her were unshakable. He had always treated her with the utmost care, both in public and in private. He couldn’t possibly betray her like that. Until he did. Until he started choosing Carol over her. Over and over again. Harper Kemp, Sloan’s best friend, stood to the side, her face twisted with rage. She was ready to expose Wyatt for the cheating scumbag he was, but Sloan stopped her with a trembling hand. “It’s not worth it,” Sloan said weakly. “Come on, let’s go.” Her legs gave out beneath her and she collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably as sobs tore through her chest. Tears streamed down her face, no longer held back. The beautiful memories they had built together shattered before her eyes, leaving only broken pieces that could never be put back together. Harper rushed to her side, wrapping an arm around Sloan’s shoulders. “Come on, babe. Let’s get you to the hospital.” While Harper stepped out to buy some soup, Wyatt arrived at the hospital, breathless and anxious. “Congratulations, Mr. Finley! Your fiancee is pregnant!” the doctor announced with a bright smile. A flash of joy crossed Wyatt’s face before concern immediately took over. “How is Sloan? Is she okay?” The doctor adjusted Sloan’s blanket and smiled warmly. “She is fine. Just fainted from emotional shock. You two must be so close—Mr. Finley, you seem more worried about her than the baby–just like the rumors say. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.” Wyatt smiled and thanked the doctor, his hand tightening around Sloan’s. He didn’t notice how quiet Sloan had become. She already knew that even if they had a child together, there was no going back to the way things were. It was the child she felt sorry for—it had come at the wrong time, in the middle of a broken relationship. After the doctor left, Wyatt took her hand between his, his thumb brushing gently over the back of her hand. His voice was soft and filled with quiet excitement. “We’re going to have a baby,” he said, his eyes bright with hope. “We’re going to be a happy family of three. I will—” Before he could finish, his phone buzzed. Wyatt glanced at the screen, his expression tightening as he instinctively angled the phone away from Sloan’s view. Sloan’s lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. “Who is it?” she asked softly. Wyatt’s face remained calm. “Just work.” But as he read the message, his brow creased and his fingers moved quickly across the screen, typing a reply. Sloan reached for his arm, her touch light but pleading. “I’m not feeling well. Can you stay with me for a little while?” Wyatt was about to put the phone down when another message popped up—this time, a picture. It was Carol, smiling smugly, her arm draped around the neck of a young male celebrity. Her expression was playful, teasing and a little provocative. Wyatt’s mouth curled into a helpless, indulgent smile. “I’d love to but I can’t,” Wyatt said, standing up. “Something came up at work. They need me. Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” He kissed her forehead before walking away without a second glance. Sloan’s heart twisted painfully. She had known this would happen. She had known Carol would always come first. How could she have been so foolish to think that years of companionship could compete with the pull of first love? Sloan pulled the blanket over her head and sobbed until her chest hurt.

Not long after, Sloan’s phone buzzed with a message. It was a video from Carol. In the video, Wyatt was holding Carol’s hand, his voice low and coaxing. “My little princess, stop hanging around with those guys. They’re no good for you. Come on, be good and come home.” “No!” Carol’s voice wavered, thick with hurt. “Aren't you about to marry that woman? Why are you even here?” A bitter smile curled her lips. “Since you don’t want me anymore, why shouldn’t I find someone else? I can be with any man I want—I could even marry him if I wanted to. What are you gonna do about it?” Wyatt’s expression darkened, jealousy flashing in his eyes like a storm about to break loose. He grabbed Carol’s arm and pulled her into his arms. “You’re not allowed to be with anyone else,” he said, his voice sharp and possessive. “I’m the only one you’re allowed to be with.” Carol gave a taunting smile at the camera before leaning down and kissing him. Sloan couldn’t watch the rest of it. Her vision blurred with tears. Because Wyatt had said those exact same words to her once. Back then, her adoptive mother had been seriously ill. The Tanner Family had promised to help her find the best doctor and cover the expensive medical bills—but the catch was that Sloan had to become a pawn in a strategic marriage. With no other option, she told Wyatt and broke up with him. She could still remember how Wyatt’s eyes had turned bloodshot that day as he clung to her desperately, swearing that he would marry her no matter what. Later, after cutting ties with his family, he had knelt down and begged the family head for forgiveness, enduring humiliation and paying a steep price to make the marriage between the two families possible. But Sloan had never been the long-lost heiress everyone envied. She was just a bargaining chip, a convenient piece in a calculated deal. And she wasn’t the beloved fiancée everyone thought she was—she was just the catalyst that made this whole mess possible. This moment confirmed what she had always feared: she was nothing more than a placeholder in Wyatt’s life. A week passed. Wyatt never came to visit her, not even when she was discharged from the hospital. Sloan ignored the messages and calls from Harper Kemp, choosing instead to return alone to the Grant estate. As soon as she stepped inside, the sound of carefree laughter echoed through the house. Carol was running around barefoot in Sloan’s pajamas. Wyatt followed behind her, holding a pair of matching slippers. “Carol, stop running around. Come here and put these on. You’ll catch a cold.” “No.” Carol pouted like a spoiled child. “Carry me! I want piggy back!”  Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hooked her legs around his waist, her fingers teasing the back of his hair. Wyatt’s jaw tightened, but instead of pushing her away, he carried her effortlessly to the dining table, setting her down. His expression softened as he brushed his thumb across the tip of her nose. “Stop being difficult, or I’m going to punish you. You’re not a kid anymore, Carol.”  The two of them were so wrapped up in each other that they didn’t notice Sloan standing by the floor-to-ceiling window. She clenched the door handle, forcing down the hurt rising in her chest. Then, with a calm expression, she punched in the code and walked inside. Hearing the door open, Wyatt instinctively pushed Carol away. “Sloan… You’re out of the hospital?” His smile was tight. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Maybe it was guilt, but Wyatt immediately started explaining. “This is Carol. She is my mom’s goddaughter. You’ve met her before. She just got back in town yesterday and needed a place to stay for a few days. About the pajamas—” “It’s fine. Just fabric,” Sloan cut him off. Without waiting for a reaction, she turned and headed upstairs. If she was going to leave, she needed to cut all ties—wipe out every trace of him from her life. Upstairs, Sloan began rummaging through her closet, gathering all the gifts Wyatt had ever given her—bracelets, handwritten notes, clothes and tossing them into a cardboard box. Wyatt panicked at the sight of her packing. His voice trembled. “Sloan, I’m sorry. I know I screwed up. I didn’t know Carol took your pajamas—I’ll tell her to leave right now if that’s what you want! You can yell at me, punish me the way you want but just don’t leave me!”

Same old story. That's how men are. They commit mistakes, they realize when they do it and they always apologize—never change. Wyatt knew Sloan was a clean freak and she hated people touching her stuff, yet he still brought someone into their home and let them touch her personal things. Was it all for the thrill of it? Testing the waters again and again, pushing her limits just to get her on edge? Did he really not know? That nightgown was her favorite—the one she had blushed over when he first bought it for her. He had been so young and earnest back then, whispering in her ear over and over, “I love you, Sloan. Having you is the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to me. I swear I’ll never let you down.” And she had believed him–thought her Cinderella moment had finally come. But not every Cinderella gets her prince. If she weren’t the daughter of the wealthy Tanner Family, they would’ve split up a long time ago. Tears spilled down Sloan’s cheeks. Wyatt panicked, fumbling to wipe them away. “Oh, no. Please, don’t cry. Seeing you cry hurts me more than anything. I swear I’ll never let anyone else into our home again, okay?” Wyatt’s voice trembled with sincerity as he knelt on the floor, his hands clutching hers like a lifeline. His eyes were wide with desperation, silently begging for her forgiveness. Sloan studied his remorseful face for a long moment, then smiled faintly through her tears. “That’s alright. It’s just a nightgown. I’ll throw it away. Not a big deal.” Her tone was calm, almost too calm. “While I was tidying up, I suddenly remembered that my mother’s death anniversary is coming. I guess I got a little carried away.” “You scared me for a second there,” Wyatt said, exhaling sharply. He pressed a hand to his chest as if trying to steady his racing heart. His tone softened, almost childlike. “When you started packing without saying anything, I thought you were leaving me.” He nuzzled her neck, his arms tightening around her as if afraid she might slip away. “I promised you, didn’t I?” Sloan said softly, pushing him away with gentle firmness. “As long as you don’t betray me, I’ll never leave you.” Her voice sharpened slightly as she added, “By the way, why are you so nervous? Are you hiding something from me? Did you cheat on me?” Wyatt’s breath hitched. His eyes widened in alarm. “Of course not! You’re the only love of my life, Sloan,” He quickly held up his hand, his voice trembling. “You have to believe me. I swear to God—if I ever betray you, may I die alone and miserable!” Then she chuckled softly. “I’m just messing with you,” she said, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement. A soft laugh slipped past her lips. “You love me too much to betray me.” But deep down, she knew better. Men are greedy. They want the comfort of home and the thrill of something new. Lies come so easily to them. She wondered if, when the day finally came, he would feel even the slightest trace of regret. Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting away. “Yeah, you’re the only one I love.” The tense moment was broken by the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor downstairs, followed by Carol’s delicate sobbing. Wyatt’s expression remained calm, but his body tensed. “I’m going to check it,” Wyatt said baring light smile. “Please, stop crying, okay? Or you'll get your eyes swollen and you won’t look good for the wedding.”  Sloan nodded wordlessly and he left the room. His steps were quick and slightly uneven—a subtle giveaway of his guilt. Sloan had no intention of going downstairs to watch them play out their little drama. But the noise from below was impossible to ignore. First, someone shouted for a private doctor. Then, there was talk of possible amputation. It all sounded like a full-blown emergency. Curiosity got the better of her. When she walked downstairs, she found Carol sitting on the couch, her foot propped up on Wyatt’s lap. Her ankle had a faint bruise—barely enough to warrant a bandaid. Yet Wyatt was handling it as if she were made of glass. He cradled her foot with both hands, gently massaging the injured spot, his face lined with worry. Carol’s cheeks were flushed, her breath coming out in soft gasps.

An uncomfortable tension hung in the air between them, charged with an intimacy that went beyond sibling affection. Anyone watching would’ve assumed they were lovers. Sloan felt like the intruder—the other woman coming between them. Her gaze dropped to her arm, where faint scars trailed down her skin. All those years ago, Wyatt had said he just wanted to know what it felt like to have a real home. So she had learned how to cook. How to keep their home clean. She had tried to make their house feel warm and inviting. At first, Wyatt had been touched. He would bandage her cuts, kiss her wounds and tell her to be careful. But over time, his kindness faded. Eventually, he started telling her not to bother cooking because he’d be working late. She hadn’t seen this tender side of him in a long time.  Maybe it was her burning gaze that made Wyatt finally notice her standing there. He tensed slightly and set Carol’s foot down, his tone soft as he explained, “Sloan? Why are you come down? The doctor said massaging the ankle would help with the pain.”  Sloan barely keeping a laugh escaping from her at how pathetic that excuse sounded. The house was full of staff. There was no reason for him to be the one tending to Carol personally. Before she could say anything, Carol let out a breathy whimper. “Ow! Wyatt, you’re hurting me.” Her voice was soft and pleading. Wyatt’s attention immediately shifted back to her. Sloan’s nails dug into her palms, the sting doing nothing to dull the ache in her chest. Carol ended up staying the night. Even though Wyatt had promised to never let anyone else into their home. But of course, how could he turn away from the delicate rose he had nurtured so carefully? After all, Sloan was starting to feel like the outsider here. *** Night fell. Sloan lay in bed, unable to sleep. Wyatt finally returned hours later, slipping into bed beside her. But just as he settled in, his phone buzzed. He sat up abruptly, shut off the ringer and checked his messages. The glow from the screen reflected the curve of his lips. Whatever he was reading had clearly put him in a good mood. Sloan’s eyes narrowed in the darkness. Sensing her gaze, Wyatt tucked the phone away and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Sorry, Sloan. Did I wake you? Work’s been crazy. I need to head to the study to take care of some work. You’re pregnant—you should get more rest. I’ll come back to bed once I’m done.” Sloan murmured, “Okay.” Wyatt waited until her breathing evened out before slipping out of bed. Once he was gone, Sloan’s eyes shot open. She followed him. Wyatt didn’t stop at the study. He walked past it and headed to the guest room. After a brief pause, the door creaked open. A pale hand shot out and caught the front of his tie, pulling him inside. A flash of black lace peeked from beneath the robe as Carol wrapped her leg around his waist, her tone teasing and seductive. “What’s wrong? You don’t like this outfit? Or…” Her eyes glinted mischievously. “Would you prefer the bunny costume?” 

Wyatt’s dark eyes flashed with desire, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he growled under his breath, “You’re playing your fire. You know Sloan’s just down the hall.” Carol grabbed his hand, guiding it beneath the lace while her lips curled into a smirk. “Isn’t that what makes it even more exciting? You say no, but your body tells a different story.” Her words were cut off when Wyatt’s mouth crashed against hers. Fabric tore as Wyatt pulled at the flimsy lace, leaving it in shreds on the floor. Their moans echoed through the empty house. Sloan stood in the shadows, her heart shattering into pieces. She had known—somewhere deep down, she had always known about them—but seeing it with her own eyes was an entirely different kind of pain. Their sounds of pleasure stabbed at her like knives, each one cutting deeper until blood pooled in her chest, squeezing her heart. She sank to the floor, pressing her forehead to her knees to stifle her sobs. Six years of devotion—gone in an instant. Carol had always flaunted her connection with Wyatt, always challenged Sloan with that smug look. Sloan had ignored it, convinced that Wyatt loved her more. She had done everything for him, molding herself into the perfect partner, meeting his every need. Wyatt had made her feel like the luckiest woman alive. But this? This was a loss she couldn’t recover from. At some point, Sloan picked herself up from the floor and returned to the bedroom. She grabbed the carefully wrapped gift she had prepared earlier that day and tossed it into the trash. Anything tainted should’ve been thrown away long ago. From now on, she would start purging every trace of him from her life. *** Maybe it was the wild night they’d had—because by morning, the house was swarming with staff. The maids were whispering among themselves, eyeing the closed study door with knowing glances. When Sloan approached, they scattered, nervously trying to divert her attention. Ignoring them, Sloan pushed open the door. Inside, Wyatt and Carol were curled up on the couch together. Their clothes were intact, suggesting they’d cleaned up and fallen asleep afterward. Wyatt’s eyes flew open. He bolted upright, barking at the staff, “Get out!” Then he turned toward Sloan, his face softening into that practiced look of concern. “Babe, don’t get the wrong idea. Carol is my sister. Her foot was hurting, so I gave her some massage. We must’ve fallen asleep afterward.” The head maid stepped forward, backing him up. “It’s true, Miss Sloan. I brought the ointment myself. Mr. Wyatt was exhausted from work—he must’ve dozed off.” Sloan’s gaze hardened as it swept over the maid. So they all knew. Everyone in this house had known for a long time—and yet they’d all lied to her. Her stomach twisted with disgust. She rushed to the bathroom and threw up until her throat burned. Her reflection in the mirror was ghostly pale, stripped of the grace and poise she had once taken pride in.

Wyatt’s eyes widened in panic as he rushed toward Sloan, gently patting her back while calling for a doctor. It wasn’t until the private doctor arrived and confirmed it was just normal morning sickness that Wyatt finally relaxed. But the sweat beading on his forehead and soaking the back of his shirt made it clear how shaken he was. Anyone who didn’t know better would have thought he was madly in love with her. But Sloan felt nothing but cold emptiness. The happiness she once treasured had dissolved into bitterness and pain. It was at that moment she finally understood the truth: people only let you see what they want you to see. Love was no different. Even the love she’d once been so proud of had been nothing more than an elaborate act from Wyatt. Wyatt was still talking, trying to explain himself. When he noticed her obvious disinterest, he suddenly smiled as if he had a surprise in store. “Baby, don’t be upset. I’m taking you somewhere special.” His tone was light, hinting at excitement. Sloan wanted to refuse, but the very air in the house felt tainted, making her nauseous. Soon, they pulled up to a quiet shopping district. Wyatt helped her out of the car with his usual careful attention, as if nothing had happened the night before. Sloan pulled her hand away from his grip and looked around, avoiding his face. Her gaze landed on a perfume shop. She froze. It was Wyatt’s favorite brand — particularly the rose scent. Because he liked it so much, Sloan had swapped all her perfumes for rose-scented ones. But he had once said, “Baby, I actually prefer the cooler, fresher scent you used to wear.” At the time, Sloan had felt a surge of warmth, thinking it was because he truly loved her. But after Carol entered the picture, everything made sense. Sloan had seen a post on Carol’s social media — a live photo of a man burying his face in her neck like a lovesick puppy. He was holding a bottle of that exact rose perfume. Sloan had even left a sincere comment: “Wishing you and your boyfriend a lifetime of happiness.” Looking back now, she realized how pathetic she had been. Wyatt noticed her lingering gaze on the shop and immediately said, “Baby, you used to love this brand, right? We’ve got time — let’s go take a look!” Sloan’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Used to. Not anymore.” Wyatt hesitated for a second, then quickly recovered. “That’s okay, baby. Just tell me what you like now — I’ll buy you anything you want.” There was a time when such sugary words would have made Sloan’s heart race. But now they only made her stomach churn. Especially after last night. Sloan’s voice was flat. “No need. I’m pregnant, so I can’t wear perfume anyway. And you said before that this scent didn’t suit me, right? No point in forcing it.” Neither of them spoke on the way to the bridal shop. As soon as they walked in, a smiling sales assistant greeted them. “You must be the future Mrs. Grant. You’re stunning!” Wyatt’s smile brightened. “Baby, our wedding is just around the corner. Your custom dress is ready and the necklace I ordered for you has arrived too. You’re going to love it.”

Wyatt kept rambling on about the wedding preparation. Sloan watched him, taking in the warmth in his eyes and the easy charm in his smile. A sudden ache tightened her chest. If she hadn’t seen what happened last night with her own eyes, would he still be lying to her? After all, Wyatt was a masterful liar. For years, she had molded herself to fit his tastes, pushing aside her own needs just to keep him happy. Even when doubt crept in, she buried it beneath blind faith in his love. Wyatt took the necklace from the box and carefully fastened it around her neck. The cool weight of the chain against her skin felt heavier than it should. When Sloan didn’t say anything, her gaze fixed blankly on the dress and necklace, Wyatt assumed she was too overwhelmed to speak. He took her hand, his voice tender. “Baby, meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m so lucky we’re about to start our life together.” His sudden confession caught her off guard. Her heart, which had been dead for so long, trembled for a moment. She had waited six years for this. Sloan picked up the dress and walked toward the dressing room. Just as she was about to close the door, she spotted a familiar figure through the gap. Carol. Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying. Wyatt gently wiped her tears away and pressed a tender kiss to her cheek. They whispered to each other, their bodies close. A sales assistant approached with a velvet jewelry box. Inside was a ruby necklace — Sloan’s favorite gemstone. But the one Carol held was larger and brighter than the one Wyatt had given Sloan. A dazzling, brilliant red — sharp and cutting, like a dagger piercing Sloan’s heart. Compared to Carol’s necklace, the one around Sloan’s neck felt cheap and meaningless. Much like her relationship with Wyatt—polished and perfect on the surface, but rotting underneath. Sloan gripped the necklace, the sharp edges of the ruby cutting into her palm until blood trickled between her fingers. Carol, now wearing the necklace, seemed noticeably happier. Still, she pouted and murmured, “Are you really going to marry Sloan? You don’t even love her... You only feel sorry for her.” Wyatt denied it immediately, “That’s nonsense. You better go now. Sloan is in fitting room. I don’t want her to see us together.” Carol scoffed. “Fine. If you’re really going to marry her, then I guess we’re done. After the wedding, don’t come crawling back to me!” She turned to leave. Wyatt instantly panicked and grabbed her hand, pulling her back into his arms. His tone was soft, coaxing. “You know you’re the only one I love. Mom and Dad would never let us get married. We’re lucky they hadn’t caught us. I need to focus with Sloan now because she’s the key of this alliance. I swear I’ll divorce her as soon as we get the trust fund. Just be patient and trust me, okay?” In that moment, Sloan felt like a knife had pierced her chest, her entire body trembling uncontrollably. When the Tanner Family had tracked her down years ago, there was already another girl in the house—a fraud who had taken her place. The only reason they took her back was because her relationship with Wyatt would benefit the Tanner Family’s business. At the time, her mother had fallen seriously ill and was hospitalized. The medical bills were astronomical and despite working multiple part-time jobs around the clock, she was still drowning in debt. That’s why she agreed to return to the Tanner Family. She hadn’t expected that not only did the Tanner Family see her as nothing more than a bargaining chip, but even the man she’d loved for six years had been using her all along.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, unstoppable. It was the height of summer, but Sloan felt like she was standing in the middle of a glacier. Her whole body was freezing, chilled to the bone. She couldn’t feel warmth anymore. Sloan didn’t storm out to confront them. If she exposed them now, her plan would fall apart and the Tanner Family would never let her go easily. She wiped her tears and the blood from her hands, then numbly changed into her dress, moving like a soulless puppet. When Wyatt complimented her appearance, she simply smiled mechanically. Inside, she felt nothing. *** Three days before the wedding. Rosehill Cemetery. A man and a woman stood in front of a gravestone, each holding a bouquet of flowers. Sloan knelt down and lit a candle, placing it gently before her mother’s grave. Her fingers traced the engraved photo of the woman, her eyes filled with quiet longing. Wyatt stood beside her, facing the photo as he solemnly promised, “Mrs. Tanner, I swear I’ll take care of Sloan for the rest of my life. You don’t have to worry about her anymore.” A sharp ringtone interrupted his words. Wyatt answered the call, his brows furrowing as anger and panic flickered across his face. He hung up, looking at Sloan with an apologetic smile. “Sloan, I’m sorry, I…” Before he could make up an excuse, Sloan’s expression remained calm. “It’s fine. I’m not a kid. If something’s going on at the company, you should handle it. I’ll stay for a bit longer and head home after.” Wyatt visibly relaxed, his smile widening. “You’re the best, baby. I’ll come get you once I’m done, okay?” Sloan didn’t respond. She watched Wyatt’s retreating figure, his poor attempt at acting calm. Pathetic. She wasn’t just laughing at him—she was laughing at herself. Six years together and she’d been so blinded by love that she hadn’t seen his true colors. But it was fine. She was planning to leave him anyway. At least now, he wouldn’t get the chance to defile her mother’s grave with his false promises anymore. Sloan turned back toward the grave, her eyes cold as she continued arranging the flowers. A low, familiar voice broke the silence behind her. “Sloan. Long time no see.” She turned and for the first time in days, a genuine smile touched her lips. “Tristan, it’s been a while.” Tristan Grant, her childhood friend and former crush, immediately noticed that something was off about her. His brows furrowed slightly, but his tone remained light. Seeing an old friend she genuinely cared about made Sloan’s mood lift, even if just for a moment. Tristan’s eyes swept the area. “Where’s Wyatt? Aren’t you two getting married soon? Why isn’t he with you?” Sloan’s smile stiffened. Forcing herself to stay calm, she replied, “He had something going on at work. He left early. Well, let’s not talk about him. How are you? When did you get back in town?” Tristan caught the chill in her tone. His heart tightened with both excitement and worry. They’d been classmates since childhood. He had loved her quietly for years, but when his family sent him abroad for university, he returned only to find Wyatt already by her side. She had seemed genuinely happy back then, so Tristan had buried his feelings, telling himself it was too late. But now, seeing her relationship with Wyatt unraveling, Tristan wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. They chatted easily, reconnecting as they exchanged numbers. After parting ways with Sloan, Tristan immediately ordered his assistant to investigate Wyatt. When the report came back, confirming Wyatt’s involvement with Carol, Tristan’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. “This should be interesting.” Meanwhile, Sloan approached the Rosehill Cemetery manager. “I’d like to relocate my mother’s grave.”

The next morning, Sloan went to Wyatt’s place and asked for her mother’s protective necklace. Her mother had gotten it for her at a holy ground before she fell ill, hoping it would protect Sloan. If she was going to leave, she needed to take everything that belonged to her. “Why are you suddenly asking for the necklace?” Wyatt asked, confused. Sloan didn’t want to raise suspicion, so she brushed it off. “I’ve been thinking… now that I’m pregnant, I want to keep it close. It might bring good luck for the baby.” Wyatt smiled and handed her the necklace without questioning it. Time flew by and soon it was the wedding day. A luxury yacht. Sloan sat in the bridal suite, surrounded by stylists buzzing around her. “Oh my God,” one stylist gushed. “I’ve never seen a wedding on a yacht before! This must’ve cost millions! Mr. Finley must’ve really loves you.” Sloan didn’t respond. Her expression remained calm. Having the wedding on a yacht had been her one request when she agreed to marry Wyatt. Wyatt had agreed without hesitation, thinking it was her dream wedding. He would’ve never thought that this yacht would become the site of their final goodbye. Once her makeup was done, Sloan slipped on her heels and walked into the grand hall. Admiring glances followed her every step. But Sloan felt nothing. At the head table, Carol sat with a smug smile, wearing a stunning ruby necklace and a white evening gown so extravagant it could have passed for a wedding dress. Carol’s gaze held open challenge. Sloan’s lips curled into a smirk. Without moving her lips, she mouthed, Bitch. Carol’s face twisted in rage. She shot to her feet, ready to retaliate, but Wyatt’s mother grabbed her arm. “Sit down! Don’t…you dare making a scene!” Carol seethed but sat back down. Only Tristan, standing at the edge of the room, caught the whole exchange. The officiant smiled warmly, before announcing, “Mister Wyatt Finley, do you take Sloan Tanner to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Wyatt’s gaze softened. “I do.” The officiant turned to Sloan. “Miss Sloan Tanner, do you take Wyatt Finley to be your lawfully wedded—” Suddenly, the large screen behind them flickered to life. A grainy video began to play. It was Wyatt and Carol, tangled together in an office. His office. Moans and whispered promises filled the room. The Finley staff rushed to shut it off, but the damage was done. Gasps filled the hall. “Oh my God! This was totally worth coming for,” someone in the crowd whispered. The screen went dark, but the echo of those obscene sounds lingered in the air. The guests’ expressions darkened, their eyes filled with disbelief and disdain. Sloan stood frozen at the altar, stunned. She had planned to leave Wyatt today, but she never intended to expose their broken relationship so publicly. After all, this was a shameful chapter of her life and she wanted nothing more than to close the book on it without further drama. Her gaze swept toward the crowd, locking onto Carol’s face. The woman’s complexion had turned ghostly pale, her wide eyes brimming with disbelief. Sloan’s confusion gave way to a flicker of satisfaction deep in her chest. She stepped forward, her voice clear and cutting as she spoke into the microphone, “I won't marry him!Never!”