Chapter 2

Beckett built this garden for Elise. Hundreds of white roses—her favorite flower. A stone bench engraved with her name. A place to remember the woman who saved his life.

"This is for the past," he told me once, holding my hand among the blooms. "But you're my future."

I believed him.

I spent five years helping him move on from her shadow. Five years being patient, understanding, waiting.

Now I realized—he never moved on. He just let me stand in her place until the real thing came along.

Sable. Elise's sister. Same eyes. Same smile. Same blood.

I was never his future.

I was just a placeholder.

"Beautiful garden, isn't it?" She walked closer, trailing her fingers along the roses. "Beckett really loved my sister. You can tell by how much care he put into this place."

Yes. I knew.

"It must be hard for you." Her voice dripped with sympathy. "Five years, and you still haven't married him. No ring. No wedding. Not even an announcement."

She touched her belly.

"I've only been here a year. And look what I have."

"You have a disease that's killing you," I said flatly. "Congratulations."

Something flickered in her eyes. She covered it quickly with a sad smile.

"You're right. I probably won't live to see this baby grow up. But at least I'll die knowing I meant something to him."

She stepped closer.

"Can you say the same? After everything you've done for him, after all those years of waiting... what do you actually have, Sloane?"

My hands curled into fists.

"You should rest. Stress isn't good for the baby."

"Oh, I'm fine." She smiled. "I just wanted to talk. Woman to woman."

Her eyes drifted to the chapel on the hill.

"He's going to marry me, you know. Before I die. He promised. A small ceremony, just the two of us." She sighed dreamily. "I've always wanted a wedding in a place like this."

My heart stopped.

"He wouldn't."

"Wouldn't he?" She tilted her head. "He already chose me over you at the gala. He brought me to your island. He's raising our child." Her smile sharpened. "What makes you think he'd stop now?"

"You—"

Suddenly, Sable's expression changed.

Her eyes went wide. She stumbled backward, grabbing the stone bench for support.

"What are you doing?" She gasped. "Don't—don't come any closer!"

I froze. "I didn't touch you."

"Stay away from me!"

She lurched sideways, clutching her belly. Her foot caught on the edge of the bench and she crumpled to the ground with a scream.

"Help! The baby—someone help!"

Footsteps pounded across the grass.

Beckett appeared seconds later, face white with panic. He dropped to his knees beside her.

"Sable! What happened? Are you hurt?"

She clung to him, sobbing.

"I just wanted to talk to her... I thought maybe we could be friends... but she got so angry—" Her voice broke. "She pushed me, Beckett. She pushed me and I fell—"

His head snapped toward me.

The look in his eyes made my blood run cold.

"Sloane. What did you do?"

"I didn't touch her." My voice shook. "She's lying. I never—"

"She's pregnant!" He was on his feet, Sable cradled in his arms. "How could you do this? I thought you were better than this!"

"Beckett, listen to me—"

"There's no one else here!" His voice cracked. "Just you and her. If you didn't push her, how did she fall?"

"I don't know! She just—"

"Enough."

One word. Cold as stone.

He turned and carried Sable toward the villa without looking back.

I stood alone in the garden, shaking.

The white roses swayed in the morning breeze. Elise's roses. Elise's garden. Elise's sister.

I had already lost.

An hour later, the doctor left.

I heard Beckett's voice from down the hall, soft and worried, asking about bed rest and prenatal vitamins.

Then footsteps. My door opened.

He stood in the frame, exhausted.

"The doctor said she needs to stay calm. No more confrontations."

"I didn't—"

"I don't want to hear it." He rubbed his face. "Just... stay away from her, Sloane. Please. For the baby's sake."

He left without waiting for my answer.

I sat on the bed, numb.

Five years. Five years of trust. Gone in one morning.

I found Sable in the garden again that afternoon.

She was sitting on Elise's bench, humming softly, one hand on her belly.

When she saw me, she didn't flinch. She smiled.

"Come to push me again?"

"We both know I never touched you."

"Do we?" She tilted her head. "That's not what Beckett thinks."

I stepped closer.

"It doesn't matter. You'll be gone soon anyway. You said it yourself—you're dying."

For a split second, something ugly crossed her face.

Then she laughed.

"Oh, Sloane." She stood up slowly, brushing off her dress. "You really believe everything people tell you, don't you?"

My stomach dropped.

"What?"

"Dying." She rolled her eyes. "Please. Do I look like I'm dying to you?"

The world tilted.

"You... you're not sick?"

"The doctors Beckett hired said exactly what I paid them to say." She examined her nails. "A rare genetic disease. Tragic. Terminal. He ate it up."

"You've been lying to him this whole time?"

"And what are you going to do about it?" She stepped toward me, all pretense gone. "Tell him? After what just happened?"

Her smile turned vicious.

"Go ahead. See if he believes you."