763 "A week before my wedding, my fiancé paid for a man to destroy my face with acid so he could secretly marry another woman. While pretending to remain unconscious in a private room at the hospital, I overheard him say, “After this, who would ever want her?”

Friday night, twelve hours before the wedding.

The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan was buzzing with glittering lights, champagne towers, and the elite of American society. It was the rehearsal dinner for the "Wedding of the Century."

Logan Vance stood near the center of the room, wearing a custom Tom Ford tuxedo, holding a glass of vintage Dom Pérignon. He looked every bit the grieving yet triumphant pop king. Beside him stood Rachel Sterling—a tall, strike-a-pose brunette wearing a five-hundred-thousand-dollar diamond necklace, smiling brilliantly for the society photographers.

“Logan, darling,” Rachel purred, leaning against his shoulder as cameras flashed. “The press coverage is insane. My father says the live broadcast tomorrow is projected to break streaming records!”

“It’s what Maya would have wanted,” Logan said softly, laying a solemn, tragic hand over his heart for the benefit of a nearby People Magazine reporter. “She always wanted my music to reach the maximum number of people. Carrying on with this union... it’s how I honor her memory.”

Across the room, Ryan, Logan’s manager, downed his third glass of straight scotch in twenty minutes. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands trembling as he watched Logan play the grieving saint.

Ryan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, stepping away from the noise of the party into a quiet marble hallway.

The text was from an unknown number:

“Check your private email, Ryan. The police know about the fifty thousand cash transfer from your Cayman account to Marcus Flint. You have eight hours to decide if you’re going down for murder conspiracy alone.”

Ryan’s glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against the marble floor. He stared at the screen, his face turning gray as ash. He frantically opened his email app.

Attached was an audio file. He tapped play, pressing the phone to his ear.

His own voice echoed back at him through the speaker: “You could have just broken up with Maya! Why on earth would you pay someone to do this to her?!”

Followed by Logan’s cold reply: “Because if I dumped her... the press would have hunted Rachel down. I needed Maya to be physically unable to show up.”

Ryan leaned against the cold marble wall, gasping for air. “Oh God,” he whimpered. “Oh God, she was awake...”

He frantically typed a reply to the unknown number: “Who is this?! What do you want?!”