The Nine Year Lie And The Three Month Bride

Summary

Nine years. Nine years of stolen moments and whispered promises, nine years of being the secret behind the closed door.

On my twenty-eighth birthday, my boyfriend of nearly a decade walked into the courthouse and married his high school sweetheart.

I stood before him, the question burning silently in my eyes, but Rhys Caldwell’s expression was perfectly serene.

“Jocelyn’s heart is failing, Anya. The doctors say she has maybe three months, tops.” His voice was low, clinical, and utterly devoid of remorse. “This was her last wish. I couldn’t let her die with that kind of regret.”