The Day My Fairytale Died

h CEO, and our engagement was the stuff of lifestyle blogs and glittering society columns. I poured my

ji, the casual cruelty of a Cartier bracelet – "one-of-a-kind," he'd said – glinting on *her* wrist, identical to mine. Chloe Vanc

ess his family heirloom, the one he swore was meant only for me. My birthday ended with him ditching me for her manufactured c

cold, quiet rage. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't scream. I pressed call on Liam Walker's name, a man from a past I'd left behind, and