My Fiancé Put My Wedding Dress and My Grandmother’s Ring on His Best Friend, So I Canceled the Wedding and Froze the Money Keeping His Company Alive

Six months after the canceled wedding, an envelope arrived at my personal office at Sterling Capital.

It was a plain white envelope with no return address, postmarked from Newark, New Jersey.

I opened it with a silver letter opener. Inside was a single page of lined paper, covered in Ethan Cole’s familiar, hurried handwriting.

Claire,

I don't expect you to reply to this. I know Arthur Vance will probably throw this in the trash the moment he sees my name, but I needed to write it anyway.

I’m sitting in a coffee shop near my office building in Newark. It’s raining outside. Every morning I wake up and for about five seconds, I forget where I am. I think I’m back in Russian Hill, smelling the coffee you used to make, listening to you talk about your morning market calls.

Then I remember.

I lost everything, Claire. I lost my company. I lost my reputation. I lost my friends. Raj won't take my calls. Marcus Vance told me if I ever put him down as a reference, he’d personally send my forensic audit to every HR department on the East Coast.

Savannah moved to Oregon. We haven't spoken since the day in the hallway at Aether. You were right about her. You were right about me. I used her to make myself feel like a big man, and I used you to make myself feel secure. I was a coward.

I saw the article in the Wall Street Journal last week about your new green energy fund. You looked incredible in the photo. So sharp. So strong. So completely out of my league.

I used to tell you that original silk gown looked too severe on you. The truth is, Claire, I was terrified of that dress. Because when you wore it, you looked like a woman who didn't need me for a single thing. You looked like a woman who could see right through me.

I’m sorry. For the dress. For the necklace. For five years of making you feel like you were second best to a ghost.

Ethan.

I read the letter through once. My heart rate didn't elevate. My hands didn't shake. I felt no flare of anger, no surge of triumph, and no lingering trace of grief.