He Blamed Me for Her Death

The crystal chandelier cast fractured light across the marble floor as Matthew paced the length of the Vanderbilt estate's grand salon. His shadow stretched and contracted with each agitated step, a dark reflection of the storm brewing inside him. I watched from the doorway, my fingers clutching the silk of my evening dress, the fabric damp with nervous perspiration.

"You're impossible to please, Eliza," Matthew snapped, his voice slicing through the silence. "Everything has to be perfect for you, doesn't it? The flowers, the music, the guest list—God forbid anything deviates from your precious checklist."

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my voice steady. "The florist simply suggested changing the arrangements to better complement the venue's architecture. It wasn't my idea."

"Of course it was." He whirled to face me, eyes flashing with contempt. "You've been orchestrating this entire production, haven't you? Making sure everyone knows how important the Livingstone-Vanderbilt union is. How important *you* are."

The accusation stung, but I'd grown accustomed to Matthew's volatility. Three years of engagement had taught me to weather his storms, to remind myself of the ten-year-old boy who had pulled me from the depths of Silver Lake when I'd slipped through the ice. That memory—his small hands gripping mine, his determined expression as he dragged me to safety—had sustained me through countless nights like this one.

"I just want everything to be perfect for us," I said softly.

"There is no 'us,' Eliza." Matthew's laugh was sharp, brittle. "There's only what our families want. What this merger of empires requires."

He yanked the platinum engagement ring from his finger—the ring I'd helped select, the one that had taken months to custom design with the intertwined family crests. Before I could react, he strode to the open French doors leading to the terrace and hurled it into the darkness beyond.

"Matthew!" I gasped, rushing forward. "What are you doing?"

"Do you see that?" He pointed into the night, toward the lake that glittered like scattered diamonds in the moonlight. "That's how much I care about this farce of a wedding. That's how much I care about you."

My heart pounded against my ribs. "The ring... it's a family heirloom..."

"Then you should go find it," he sneered. "Show everyone how committed you are to this arrangement."

With that, he stormed past me, colliding with his friend Carter who had been hovering in the hallway. "I'm done with this," Matthew muttered, loud enough for me to hear. "She can play princess by herself tomorrow."

The heavy oak door slammed behind them, leaving me alone in the cavernous room. I stood motionless, the echo of Matthew's rage fading into silence. Then I moved, my steps quickening as I realized what I needed to do.

The night air bit through my thin dress as I descended the stone steps to the lakeside. The water looked black and impenetrable, reflecting a half-moon that seemed to mock my predicament. I kicked off my heels and waded in, the cold