Benedict Shepard was cheating.
Cynthia Tremaine stood outside the bridal shop's fitting room and saw her soon-to-be husband tangled up with another woman.
"Ben… this dress—does it look better on me or on your fiancée?" the woman purred from inside.
"On you, obviously. I'm going out of my mind for you—doesn't that prove how irresistible you are?"
Pleased with his answer, the woman let out a tinkling laugh.
"I want you to remember me—on your wedding day, on every anniversary, I want you to think of this moment. Think of me."
As Cynthia listened to their hushed, private murmurs, she felt like she had been suddenly submerged in icy water. All those business trips Benedict had been taking lately—so much for being the Guthries' golden boy. He'd been sneaking around with someone else all along.
Swallowing down the nausea rising in her throat, Cynthia turned away and hurried to her car.
Seven years together. They'd built everything side by side, growing VistaSphere Group from nothing into what it was today.
Her sister had always warned her Benedict wasn't a good man. There was even a message on her phone right now.
[The Tremaines won't be attending your wedding to Benedict. You're on your own.]
Cynthia's eyes stung as she replied.
[I'm not marrying him anymore.]
It took a while for her sister to respond.
[Come back to the Capital in a month, and I'll believe you. If not, we're done as sisters.]
Cynthia typed a simple [Fine.] and put her phone away.
As she started her car and drove off, Benedict emerged from the bridal shop, his arm around the other woman. He paused when he saw Cynthia's car pulling away, recognizing the license plate.
By the time he hesitated, she was already gone.
Cynthia quickly locked her phone and put a hand up to block him, her tone flat.
"Are you really that worried about me leaving?"
He hesitated for a split second. "Of course not. You can go out whenever you want. I just worry you'll get bored if I'm not there."
He smiled and reached for her waist, his voice dropping to a gentle coax. "Come on, sweetheart. Tell me—who upset you?"
Cynthia didn't answer. She just stared at his handsome, perfect face, her eyes cold.
He was still the same as always—quick to sense her every mood, always ready with just the right words, always making her feel like she mattered most in the world.
Cynthia shook her head and looked away, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Benedict, you've been busy lately. I don't think there's any point in continuing with the wedding. I'd hate for you to be distracted by all this."
Benedict bristled at her tone. As far as he was concerned, she should have been grateful—after all, he was a man of status now.
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