A Second Chance At True Love

On our third wedding anniversary, I planned to tell my husband I was pregnant.

Instead, I watched him get down on one knee and propose to another woman.

In the ensuing chaos, his abrupt turn caused me to step back suddenly, and I lost my footing on the slick marble at the top of the stairs.

I woke up in the hospital, losing our baby. The doctor called him, begging him to come.

"Tell her to stop this pathetic act," I heard my husband's voice say over the phone. "I don't have time for her games."

He hung up. He was at the same hospital, comforting his mistress over a minor burn while our child slipped away.

After three years of lies and five broken promises, I finally woke up.

I left him a box with the ultrasound photos and my miscarriage diagnosis, signed the divorce papers, and disappeared from his life forever.

Chapter 1

Kiera POV:

On our third wedding anniversary, I watched my husband get down on one knee and propose to another woman.

The clinking of champagne glasses and the low hum of polite conversation filled the opulent ballroom of the St. Regis. It was a party Ethan had thrown, ostensibly to celebrate a new funding round for his tech company, but he'd whispered to me that morning, his breath warm against my ear, that it was truly for us. For our anniversary.

I believed him. I always did.

I stood near the grand entrance, my hand resting protectively on the gentle swell of my belly. Three months. Our secret. Our tiny miracle. I was waiting for the perfect moment to tell him, imagining the look of pure joy on his handsome face.

That's when the "dare" started.

A drunken venture capitalist, one of Ethan's new partners, slapped him on the back. "Carlson! I dare you to prove you've still got it. Recreate the most epic moment of your youth! Propose to your high-school sweetheart, Chanel Simon!"

A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd. My smile froze.

Chanel Simon. The influencer. The one that got away. Her perfectly curated life was a constant, shimmering presence on the periphery of our marriage.

And there she was, standing just a few feet from Ethan, looking every bit the social media angel in a blush-pink dress, her expression a perfect blend of surprise and bashful delight.

"Oh, Mark, don't be silly," Chanel said, her voice a sweet, breathy melody that I knew made men weak. "Ethan's a married man."

But the crowd was roaring now, a chorus of "Do it! Do it!" fueled by expensive liquor and the thrill of a good show.

Ethan, ever the showman, flashed his charismatic, camera-ready smile. He caught my eye for a fleeting second, a silent apology in his gaze, but the pull of the spotlight was stronger. It always was.

He turned to Chanel. "A dare's a dare," he said, his voice smooth as velvet.

And then he knelt.

The air was