My Fiancé's Secret: A Wedding Day Betrayal

On the morning of my wedding, I found a voice memo my fiancé of seven years had saved from his 22-year-old intern.

But I still walked down the aisle, secretly pregnant with our child. Then, as we stood at the altar, she faked a faint.

Blake dropped my hand and ran to her, leaving me alone.

He called my heartbreak a "tantrum" while making his special tea-the one I taught him-for her in our apartment. He was certain our baby was his safety net, a guarantee I' d never leave.

"She's not going to do anything," he told his mother on the phone while I was at the clinic. "Just let her blow off some steam."

He thought my pain was a game and our baby was a bargaining chip.

He was wrong. He found me in the recovery room, striding in with a cocky smile and a bouquet of lilies. The smile died when he saw me, pale in the hospital bed, and the flowers slipped from his grasp as he finally understood what I had done.

Chapter 1

Evelyn Roman POV:

On the morning of my wedding, I discovered my fiancé of seven years had saved a voice memo from his twenty-two-year-old paralegal intern.

It wasn' t snooping. Not really. Blake' s phone was lying on the antique vanity in my bridal suite, right next to my own. Our wedding planner, a frantic woman with a clipboard and a permanently stressed expression, was having a meltdown over the floral arrangements for the archway. The florist wasn't answering her calls.

"Evelyn, honey, could you just try him from Blake' s phone? Maybe he' ll pick up for a man," she' d pleaded, her hands fluttering like trapped birds.

So I did. I picked up his phone, the familiar weight of it cool in my palm. The passcode was my birthday. 0814. It always had been. A small, silly thing that used to make my heart flutter. Today, it just felt like a fact.

His chat history was open, his chat with me pinned to the top. Clean. Normal. But my finger slipped as I went to the call log, accidentally tapping the 'favorites' icon in his messaging app.

And there it was. A single, saved voice memo. Not in a chat thread, but isolated in his favorites, like a treasured keepsake. The contact picture was a selfie of a girl with big, doe eyes and a calculated pout. Cali Beard. The intern.

My blood ran cold.

The bridal suite, once buzzing with excited energy and the scent of hairspray and champagne, suddenly felt airless. The joyful chatter of my bridesmaids faded into a dull roar, like the sound of the ocean from a great distance.

I pressed play.

A breathy, girlish voice, laced with something that sounded like a giggle, filled the silence of my mind. "Blake… everyone' s gone for the night. Are you going to come say goodbye to me?"

The way she said his name-not Blake,