On Our Wedding Day My Fiancé Married His True Love by Anonymous

Clare Jennings stared at her bandaged hands.

The gauze was thick, clean, and white. Underneath it, her skin screamed. A low, chemical burn that had been humming for two days straight.

Her career wasn't just in that gauze. It was being suffocated by it. A ten-year career as one of New York's top hand models. Ruined.

She heard the front door open and close. Heavy, confident footsteps on the hardwood floor.

Chase Strong walked into the living room, loosening his tie. He was handsome, the kind of handsome that made rooms tilt on their axis. He'd been her entire world since he'd pulled her out of her tiny Midwestern town at eighteen.

He was her savior. Her prince. The man who had promised her a life she couldn't have even dreamed of.

He glanced at her hands, his brow barely furrowing.

"Still hurting?" he asked. His tone was casual, like asking about the weather.

Clare nodded, her throat tight. "The agency called. They're pulling the diamond ad. The client can't wait."

Three hundred thousand dollars. Gone.

Chase sighed, running a hand through his perfect hair. It was a gesture of annoyance, not sympathy. "It's a setback, Clare. Not the end of the world."

"My hands are my world, Chase."

"Don't be dramatic," he said, his voice sharpening. He walked to the bar, pouring himself a scotch. "I spoke to Karis. She feels terrible. It was an accident. A new product, a bad reaction."