My fiancé left me at the altar for being poor—until his brother exposed the truth in front of everyone and turned the entire wedding upside down.

I remembered. Still elegant. Still composed. But gentler around the eyes.

“I owe you an apology,” she said.

I sat down across from her. “Yes.”

She flinched, then nodded. “I was cruel.”

“Yes.”

“I cared more about appearances than your pain.”

“Yes.”

A faint, strained smile touched her lips. “You’re not going to make this easy.”

“No.”

“Good,” she whispered. “I continue reading …