Stranded For His Fake Sister

My fiancé kicked me out of his car on a deserted highway because his "sister" Krystle claimed her car had broken down.

He drove off with her and her daughter, leaving me stranded in the scorching heat without a backward glance.

While I trudged for miles through the dust, Krystle posted a video of him at the gala, captioning it "My Hero" as they laughed together under the fireworks.

I realized then that I was never his partner, just a placeholder he could discard the moment Krystle snapped her fingers.

I didn't cry, and I didn't call him to beg for an explanation.

Instead, I returned to our shared penthouse and took a pair of heavy tailoring shears to my custom wedding dress.

I shredded the delicate lace until it was nothing but a pile of ruined scraps on the floor, destroying the future we were supposed to have.

Then I blocked his number, packed my life into a single suitcase, and vanished.

By the time he realized Krystle had staged the breakdown to destroy us, I was already gone.

Three years later, he found me again-but I wasn't the same woman he left on the side of the road.

Chapter 1

Kattie's POV:

The familiar dread settled deep in my stomach, a cold, heavy stone. It always happened before these family galas. Three hours of driving, three hours of feigning happiness, three hours of pretending I belonged.

Colton hummed beside me, his hand resting casually on my knee. He always tried to ease my tension, but even his touch felt like a hollow comfort today. He saw the surface, never the churning beneath.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. A quick glance at the screen. Krystle. My heart sank a little lower.

"Hey, princess," he answered, his voice softening instantly. "What's up?"

A pause. Then his brow furrowed. "Broken down? Where are you?"

He listened, his gaze darting to the rearview mirror. "On the highway? Nearby? Okay, okay, don't worry. We're on our way."

He hung up, turning to me. "Krystle's car broke down a few miles back. We have to pick her up."

I just nodded. What else was there to do? This was our life. My life.

Twenty minutes later, we spotted her. She stood by a sleek black SUV, hazard lights flashing. Even stranded on a dusty highway, Krystle looked picture-perfect.

Her white dress seemed to shimmer in the harsh afternoon sun. It was far too elegant for a breakdown, far too elaborate for a simple car trouble. It was the dress she'd been talking about for weeks, the one that would "make a statement" at the gala. It practically screamed: "Upstage Kattie."

As we pulled over, Krystle flashed a dazzling, teary smile. "Oh, Colton, thank goodness! I thought I'd be stuck here forever."

She walked towards the car, her movements fluid and practiced. Every step was a performance.

"Kattie, darling," she cooed, leaning in to give me a quick, airless hug through the open window. "I'm so,