Chapter 1

Ten minutes before the wedding was set to start, my phone buzzed with an utterly sickening photo.

In the picture, a woman lay sprawled on the ground like a stray dog. Her eyes were sunken, and she was so emaciated she looked like a skeleton wrapped in skin.

Standing over her was my fiancé, Ethan, glaring down with undisguised disgust.

I was just about to block the prank number when two more messages popped up.

[Run. Get out of there right now! Whatever you do, DO NOT marry Ethan Hayes!]

[The woman on the floor is you ten years from now!]

A chill ran down my spine, but I quickly snapped back to reality and scoffed at the screen.

Our vows were literally minutes away. Who was pulling such a cheap stunt?

I tapped out a quick reply: [Your Photoshop skills are pathetic. Who the hell is this?]

The reply came back instantly: [I am you.]

[You don't believe me? Check Ethan's inner left suit pocket—the one right against his chest. Brooke's plain silver band is hidden inside.]

[And Brooke's bridesmaid dress zipper broke earlier. Ethan hand-stitched it for her in the dressing room.]

[There's a fresh needle prick right between the thumb and index finger of his right hand.]

Click.

The dressing room door swung open.

Ethan walked in, looking sharp in his custom tailored white tuxedo.

With his handsome features and gold-rimmed glasses, he looked every bit the devoted, cultured gentleman.

"Chloe, are you ready, babe?"

He smiled as he walked toward me, his eyes overflowing with tenderness.

Without a word, I stood up and threw my arms around him.

Ethan paused, surprised, before letting out a soft laugh and hugging me back.

"About to become Mrs. Hayes, and you're still this clingy?"

I pressed my cheek against the left side of his chest.

Through the fine fabric, I clearly felt a hard, circular object.

Right inside the inner pocket. The exact shape of a ring.

On top of that, a faint trace of perfume lingered on his collar.

It was Brooke's signature scent.

I pushed him away abruptly and grabbed his right hand.

Right in the crook between his thumb and index finger was an unmistakable red puncture mark.

A fresh needle prick.

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

Ethan's eyes flickered with panic, and he yanked his hand back.

"What's wrong, Chloe? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I stared dead into his eyes.

"What happened to your hand?"

Ethan smiled effortlessly, not missing a beat.

"Oh, my boutonniere pin slipped earlier. Just poked myself by accident."

A lie slipped off his tongue without a hitch. He didn't even blush.

Looking at the man I had dated for three years, I felt an overwhelming wave of terror. He was a complete stranger.

My phone buzzed on the vanity again.

A new message from my future self:

[Believe me now? Did he claim it was a boutonniere pin?]

[Chloe, your entire relationship is a lie.]

[That time he ran through a torrential downpour across town to buy you soup? He didn't do it for you. Brooke had a stomach ache that night.]

[He rented out the entire amusement park to propose to you because Brooke was on a date there with another guy. He did it just to make her jealous!]

Staring at the glowing words, my hands shook uncontrollably.

Every sweet memory I held dear suddenly turned into a razor-sharp blade aimed straight at my heart.

The rainy night when Ethan arrived soaked to the skin, holding a warm thermos close to his chest... He immediately vanished onto the balcony afterward, talking on the phone for over an hour.

The amusement park proposal, where he kept staring broodingly at the distant Ferris wheel, so distracted he slipped the ring onto the wrong finger...

Back then, I thought he was just nervous.

He was watching another woman.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting the nausea rising in my throat.

"Ethan. Empty your inside pocket."

Ethan's smile finally vanished. His hand instinctively went to his chest.

"Chloe, stop playing games. The guests are waiting."

I stepped forward and reached straight for his jacket.

"I said, take it out!"

Ethan clamped his hand down hard on my wrist with bruising force.

The tenderness in his eyes was completely gone, replaced by pure, ugly irritation.

"Chloe Vance, today is our wedding day! Do you really have to throw a tantrum right now?"