Renea’s POV:

In the luxurious dressing room of the wedding shop, I stood before the mirror, the white lace of my wedding gown trailing behind me like a promise. My reflection looked back—skin as pale as the silk, eyes full of a mixture of hope and a strange, creeping unease.

"You look breathtaking, Miss Morris," the assistant whispered, her eyes full of genuine admiration.

"Thank you," I replied softly, taking a deep breath. Tomorrow was the day I would finally marry Jasper Thomas, the man I had loved for years. Yet, despite the elegance of the gown, my heart felt heavy, as if a storm were brewing just beyond the horizon.

Suddenly, the heavy velvet curtain was ripped open. Jasper stood there, his white suit a stark contrast to the cold, dark fury in his eyes. Before I could speak, he strode forward, his hand catching my shoulder with a force that sent a jolt of pain through my arm. He pressed me back against the cold wall, his face inches from mine.

"Renea Morris," he hissed, his voice trembling with a terrifying blend of rage and disgust. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

I shook my head, my breath catching in my throat. I had never seen Jasper look at me with such absolute loathing.

"Still trying to play the innocent?" He laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. He pulled his phone from his pocket and thrust the screen in front of my face.

The screen flickered to life. My breath stopped. The video was clear—too clear. It showed a room I vaguely remembered from my bachelorette party, a night that remained a blur of alcohol and dizziness. On the screen, a woman who bore my face was caught in a compromising embrace with a man whose features were hidden, save for a distinct, wing-like birthmark on his shoulder blade.

My face turned ashen. The memories hit me like a physical blow—the party Kailey had organized, the drinks she had insisted I finish, the sudden heat that had consumed me, and waking up alone the next morning with a sense of dread that I had tried to bury.

"Jasper, listen to me..." I gasped, my hand trembling as I reached for his arm. "It’s not what it looks like. I was drugged... I don't even remember—"

"It doesn't matter what you remember!" Jasper interrupted, pulling away as if my touch were poisonous. "The video has already gone viral. The whole world knows what you are, Renea. I can't marry a woman who brings this kind of disgrace to my name."

The disdain from the shop assistants and the other patrons felt like shards of glass. Their whispers of "shameless" and "fraud" echoed in my ears, but all I could see was Jasper’s retreating back.

"Let’s call off the wedding," he said coldly. "I'm done."

He pushed me aside with such force that I stumbled, my head striking the edge of the mahogany dressing table. I felt the warm trickle of blood on my forehead, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the void opening in my chest.

I ignored the blood and the tears. I had to explain. I had to make him understand that I was a victim, not a betrayer. I gathered the heavy skirts of my gown and ran out of the shop, chasing the fading echo of his footsteps.

"I can't lose him," I whispered to myself, the white silk of my dress dragging through the dust of the street. "I have to find the truth."