Too Late For Your Second Chance

My fiancé, Bentley Wise, heir to a New York real estate empire, promised we'd marry in 99 days. But after he saved a socialite, Frida Tanner, from a landslide, he spent those days repaying her "kindness," abandoning me at every turn.

When Frida, driving distracted, killed my mother in a car crash, Bentley defended her at the funeral. "It was an accident, Adelle. You're causing a scene."

He shielded my mother's killer, pushed me to the ground, and chose her over our ten years of love.

Lying on the floor of the chapel, I watched him comfort the woman who destroyed my life. I knew then that our love was dead.

I exposed their crimes online and fled to Paris to start over.

But just as I found new love and a new life, Bentley appeared, begging for a second chance. "I'm so sorry, Adelle. Please, just come back to me."

I refused, telling him I was with someone else. That night, Frida's mother, seeking revenge, had me kidnapped and left for dead.

Bentley sacrificed himself to save me, taking the blows meant for me. As he lay bleeding, he pleaded, "Give me another chance. I'll do anything."

I looked at the man who had destroyed me, then saved me, and said, "I have a new life now, Bentley. A life you have no part in."

Chapter 1

My wedding dress, a cascade of ivory silk, hung in my small apartment, a beacon of a future that had burned brighter than any star for ten long years. Bentley Wise, the heir to a New York real estate empire, was supposed to be my forever. I, Adelle Molina, a working-class artist, had believed in our love, believed it could conquer anything.

Every morning, I traced the numbers on the countdown calendar he' d given me, the one promising our wedding in 99 days. Each passing day was a step closer to the dream, a dream that now felt like a cruel joke.

It all started on a hiking trip.

The sun had been warm on my face as Bentley pulled me up the winding path. We were laughing, hand in hand, the city a distant hum beneath us. Then the earth itself screamed. The ground beneath our feet ripped open, a torrent of mud and rock cascading down the slope. Fear seized my throat, but Bentley, my Bentley, was there. He strong-armed me, pushing me clear of a falling tree.

Then I saw her. Frida Tanner, a socialite from a family as powerful as Bentley' s, caught in the path of the slide. Her face was a mask of terror. Without hesitation, Bentley lunged, pulling her to safety just as the ground gave way where she had stood. He saved us both. He was my hero.

Later, in the sterile waiting room of the emergency clinic, Frida clutched Bentley's hand, her voice a theatrical whisper. "You saved my life, Bentley. I owe you everything." Her eyes, however, flickered to me, a