Stolen Vows

On the day of my wedding, my bitter rival slammed his foot onto the gas pedal and broadsided my bridal car. His logic was simple: if he couldn't have me, we would die together. Instead, he was critically injured, and I woke up with complete amnesia. Dragging his broken leg into my hospital room, he pulled me into his arms with delirious ecstasy, whispering that he was the love of my life. For five years after we married, Scott Sterling guarded me like his most prized possession. Until he grew bored. At an intimate dinner party, an unfamiliar girl appeared at his side. Her face and fiery demeanor were the spitting image of how I used to be. Giggling, she insisted on playing a round of Never Have I Ever. "Never have I ever slept with my boss." "Never have I ever received his wife's stolen wedding band as a keepsake. And..." She flashed an arrogant, triumphant smirk across the table. "I'm four months pregnant with his child." "You lose, Mrs. Sterling. As your forfeit, Mr. Sterling belongs to me for the next six months. He already promised to be by my side when I deliver." The entire room went dead silent. Nobody dared to breathe. Only Scott sat motionless, his gaze heavy and conflicted, shifting between her and me. After a long pause, he parted his lips to speak. I didn't care to hear his answer. "Sure. Take him." 1 Scott’s expression hardened instantly. What he didn't know was that my memories had already returned. Before him, the man I truly loved was named Gabriel Cross. Breathtakingly handsome, completely unhinged, and mercilessly vengeful. And I was cut from the exact same cloth. Scott Sterling was finished. ... "Summer, let me explain. I warned her not to run her mouth, she just—" Scott leaned forward across the lounge booth, reaching out to take my hand. I lifted my foot and planted the tip of my high heel firmly against his chest. With measured force, I shoved him backward toward the girl. Scarlett Hayes seized the opening. She linked her arm through his, tilting her chin up with a smug, defiant grin. "Why are you so nervous, Scott? You made her out to be terrifying, warning me never to cross her. I thought she was actually someone formidable." She tilted her head, looking me up and down with open condescension. "Turns out she’s a pushover. I laid all my cards on the table and she didn't even squeak. What a pathetic doormat." She tugged his sleeve playfully. "Come on, baby daddy. Come home with me and cook dinner for our baby." Scott didn't budge an inch. His dark, heavy gaze remained locked onto me. My utter lack of reaction seemed to disturb him. He was searching my face, hunting for any flicker of jealousy or grief. I slowly held up three fingers, a faint, mocking smile touching my lips. "Who gave you permission to leave? The game isn't over." "First, I have an official marriage certificate. I'm not a side piece." Scarlett’s footsteps halted. Her smile froze. "Second, I actually have dozens of wedding bands. He bought out the entire display case of every ring I so much as glanced at, letting me rotate them on a whim." "The one he stole and gave to you happens to be the cheapest one I own, and the one I despise the most." Scarlett’s face darkened completely, her eyes flaring with hostility. Scott’s friends rushed to intercede: "Summer, drop it! Scarlett’s completely unhinged—if you push her, she’s capable of anything!" I smiled softly, my gaze dropping to her lower stomach. "Third, Scott strapped himself into a labor simulator once." "He said the contractions were torture, that he couldn't bear to put my body through that kind of agony. He told me we would either adopt or stay child-free." I tilted my head, looking straight into her eyes. "Now I'm wondering... did he just decide to let someone else carry the burden for me?" Scarlett’s face twisted into an ugly mask of rage. I lowered my fingers, flashing her a radiant, empty smile. "You lose." The silence in the lounge was suffocating. It took several seconds for anyone to find their voice, stammering to break the tension. "See? Summer could never let Scott go. She’s just playing to win him back!" "Right, right! It’s just a drinking game, none of this is real. Let’s all calm down..." Scott visibly relaxed. He immediately pulled his arm free from Scarlett’s grip and stepped toward me with a relieved smile. I shook my head, keeping my eyes locked on Scarlett. "You can have Scott. But as your forfeit, I want your baby." "Are you out of your mind, you bitch?!" Scarlett shrieked. "This is my child! It will only ever call me mother—" I rested my chin in my hand, laughing softly as I cut her off. "I mean right now." With a flick of my wrist, a fruit paring knife slid across the marble table, stopping inches from Scarlett’s hands. The polished steel reflected her violent, disbelieving glare. 2 Scarlett snapped. She grabbed a half-empty tequila bottle, smashed it against the edge of the table, and lunged at me with the jagged neck. "I'll kill you, you psycho!" Scott and his friends scrambled to intercept her. I was faster. Before the broken glass could swing downward, the tip of my paring knife was already pressed firmly against her abdomen. Beneath the thin knit of her dress, I could feel the faint, warm curve of her belly. Scarlett froze. Cold sweat beaded along her temple. Her hand began to tremble. I studied her expression, feeling a sudden urge to laugh. An unhinged beauty? Yes, Scarlett Hayes looked and acted remarkably like the woman I used to be. A replica is still just a cheap knockoff. Over the past five years beside Scott, I had kept my claws retracted so thoroughly that he had forgotten what kind of monster I truly was. "Summer!" Scott violently yanked Scarlett behind his back. His palm hovered over her stomach in an instinctive, protective posture. "Stop this." I arched a brow. "Stop what?" "Didn't you bring her here to flaunt her in my face?" "If she has the nerve to challenge me, she pays the toll. Am I wrong?" A long, suffocating pause stretched between us. Scott let out a quiet sigh, his tone softening as if he were simply dealing with an unruly, spoiled child. "I'll pay it for her." Without another word, he took a step toward me. The paring knife sank smoothly into his flank. White linen shirt. Crimson blood. I stared at the dark stain blooming across his side, the vivid red stinging my eyes. He didn't flinch. Instead, he looked at me with tender devotion, raising a hand to gently caress my cheek. "There. Are you happy now?" "Scott, are you crazy?!" Scarlett screamed, trying to claw her way past him. Scott ignored her, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her toward the exit with long, hurried strides. Her voice drifted back up the stairwell—a chaotic mix of profanities and tearful concern as she checked his wound while swearing to tear my throat out. Through it all, Scott’s arms remained tightly wrapped around her stomach, shielding it from every jolt. I stood on the balcony, watching their silhouettes vanish into the night. A cold smirk touched the corners of my mouth. Human nature truly is a pathetic joke. Years ago, Scott and I were mortal enemies. If he poached my corporate contracts on Monday, I would sabotage his supply chain on Tuesday. I spent years convinced he wanted nothing more than to see me dead. How bizarre that he secretly loved me. How disgusting that he still managed to betray me. I pressed a hand against my chest, willing the dull ache beneath my ribs to quiet down. What disgusted me most was that during these five stolen years... I had genuinely loved him too. That afternoon, I sat in the penthouse scrolling through my phone. My real fiancé, Gabriel Cross, had spent the last five years scouring the globe for me. Scott had laid down an elaborate web of false leads, sending Gabriel on wild goose chases across Europe and South America. Using my "safety from business rivals" as an excuse, Scott kept me under round-the-clock surveillance. A tracker in my phone. Monitored calls. Every social media post pre-screened. He had constructed a gilded cage, locking me inside and welding the bars shut with his own hands. My screen suddenly flashed with a message request. The profile picture was a sunset photo of Scott and Scarlett on a tropical beach, her head resting sweetly on his shoulder. The moment I accepted, a barrage of photos flooded the chat. Scott sitting beside her bed, gently massaging stretch mark cream onto her baby bump with eyes full of adoration. Scott in the kitchen wearing an apron, plating an elaborate, organic meal tailored for prenatal nutrition. Then came an audio message, Scarlett’s voice purring with triumphant venom: "His friends told me you were his untouchable muse. His sacred white rose." "So what? He still got bored." "I don't give a damn about titles or marriage licenses. The woman who holds his heart is the only one who wins." "I sent you a little gift. Make sure you sign for it." Right on cue, the front doorbell chimed. A courier handed me a thick envelope containing divorce papers. On the signature line for the husband, Scott Sterling’s name was already penned in black ink. Sharp, aggressive, unmistakable. His genuine handwriting. I stared at his name for a long time. Then, for the first time in days, I laughed aloud. Did Scarlett truly believe I would claw and beg to keep him? I couldn't wait to be rid of him. I signed my name cleanly across the paper. I snapped a picture and sent it straight to Scott’s private number. Congratulations on the wedding. Within three seconds, my phone began ringing frantically. 3 I declined every call. Five minutes later, the front door of the penthouse was kicked open with a thunderous crash. Scott stood in the entryway, chest heaving violently. He had run so fast that the wound in his side had ripped wide open, soaking half his shirt in a sickening sheet of red. He didn't seem to notice the blood. He lunged across the living room like a madman, snatched the divorce papers off the counter, and tore them into confetti. Still unsatisfied, he struck a lighter and watched the scraps burn to ash in the sink. Only then did he turn to face me, his eyes wild and terrifyingly possessive. "Summer, you know I would rather die than let you leave." "You knew Scarlett tricked me into signing those papers." "Why the hell did you sign them?!" Before I could answer, he crossed the room and crashed his mouth against mine. It was a violent, suffocating kiss, reeking of desperation and the metallic tang of blood. I wrenched my face away, panting as a mocking laugh slipped past my lips. "Right. You'd die before leaving me—but cheating on me was totally fine." He froze. "What, did you think I was so hopelessly in love with you that I’d swallow anything?" Meeting my cold, derisive gaze, Scott’s ferocious posture crumbled. He buried his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling shakily. "I was wrong. Tell me what to do. What will it take for you to forgive me?" "Make Scarlett get an abortion." Scott didn't hesitate for a second. "Done." "Cut all ties with her." This time, he paused for a fraction of a second. "...Done." I didn't answer. I just chuckled quietly. At the exact same moment, a shrill, hysterical wail erupted from the nightstand. "Scott Sterling! You lying bastard!" Scott’s face drained of color. I pulled my phone out from beneath the throw pillow. The screen showed an active call, running for the past ten minutes. His little mistress had heard every single word. Through the speaker, Scarlett screamed through racking sobs: "You're the one who threw away me and our baby! Don't you dare regret this!" The call clicked dead. Scott looked like he wanted to tear his hair out. Fury and panic warred in his expression. He glared at me, swallowed his rage, shoved me away, and sprinted out the door. By the time I tracked his phone’s GPS to a suspension bridge on the edge of the city, their melodramatic tragedy was already underway. Shouting, weeping, violent shoving, desperate embraces. The moment Scott spotted my car, his entire frame tensed. He stepped backward, positioning Scarlett firmly behind him. "Summer, what else do you want?!" he snapped, his patience fraying. "Scarlett’s pregnancy is fragile. I'm warning you, don't push her over the edge!" Scarlett suddenly lunged out from behind him. Tears were streaming down her face, but her eyes glittered with manic determination. She threw herself at me, her fingers digging into my coat as she hissed in my ear: "A man's promises mean nothing." "You don't listen to what they say, you watch what they do." "I'm carrying his bloodline. Who do you think Scott chooses when it comes down to life and death?" Before I could react, she locked her hands around my throat and threw us both over the railing. The icy wind roared in my ears before the freezing river water swallowed us whole. The shock was immediate—like a thousand needles stabbing into my skin at once. Above the roar of the current, Scarlett’s panicked, screaming voice echoed: "Scott! I'm carrying your child! Let's see if you have the guts to watch me drown!" A heavy splash broke the surface. Scott had dived in. He swam toward us like a frantic animal. After a hesitation of barely two seconds, his arms wrapped securely around Scarlett. "Summer, you're a champion swimmer, you can make it to shore on your own! Scarlett can't!" Scarlett lay against his shoulder, looking back at me through the churning water with a venomous, triumphant smile. She mouthed the words: I won. I smiled back at her through the dark water. Maybe it's a win-win. She blinked, confused. I didn't call for help. And I didn't swim toward the bank. Scott was right: I was an exceptional swimmer. And it had just occurred to me that if I couldn't leave him alive... What about dying? The sunlight filtered weakly through the icy current. Watching the two figures tangled together, I allowed my body to sink deeper into the shadows. Goodbye, Scott... Just as I turned to kick toward the far downstream bank, the reflection above suddenly shifted. 4 Scott had looked back, seen the empty water, and lost his mind. He shoved Scarlett toward the shallow rocks and plunged back into the depths, clawing through the freezing current. His body felt like burning iron as his arms locked around my waist, dragging me violently toward the surface. He threw me onto the muddy bank before turning back to pull Scarlett out. It was too late. The river was freezing. By the time Scarlett was dragged onto the gravel, she was curled into a ball, shivering violently as dark red blood began to seep through her white knit dress. By the time the ambulance reached the ER, the baby was gone. Scarlett’s screams tore through the sterile hospital corridor as her fingernails dug bloody furrows into Scott’s arms. "I hate you, Scott! I hate you!" "You killed our baby! It was you and that filthy bitch! Kill her! Aveng—avenge our child!" Scott looked down at her with an agonizing tenderness I had never seen before. When he turned to look at me, his face was an emotionless mask. I gave him a faint smile. "Are you crying?" "How rare. I don't think I've ever seen you cry." "Why did you even bother saving me? Now everyone’s miserable." Scott’s eyes turned entirely bloodshot. For the first time in five years, he raised his hand toward me. His chest heaved violently, his voice trembling with fury. "Shut your mouth!" "Don't push your luck, Summer! Just because I love you doesn't mean you can treat my life like a game!" His palm hung suspended in the air. Trembling for several seconds, his fist finally slammed into the concrete wall beside my head. "Get out. I don't want to look at you." After that night, Scott never came home. The man who used to send me ten texts an hour went completely silent. On the day Scarlett was discharged from her post-miscarriage care, they finished constructing a private memorial plot for the lost child. Scott’s assistant arrived to "escort" me to the cemetery. The moment Scarlett saw me, raw hatred burned in her eyes. "Kneel!" she shrieked. "Kneel and beg my baby for forgiveness!" I raised an eyebrow, looking at Scott. This time, he didn't step in front of me. With a jaw set like stone, he walked up behind me. A sharp kick struck the back of my knees, sending me crashing down onto the damp gravel. A heavy hand clamped down on the back of my head, forcing it down with relentless strength. My forehead struck the granite stone with a dull, sickening thud. Three times. Black spots danced across my vision. Above me, Scott’s voice was hoarse and hollow. "Scarlett hasn't eaten in three days. She said she wouldn't touch a bite until you paid your respects." "You caused the death of that child, Summer. You owe this to her..." I lay against the cold stone, staring at the tiny name engraved on the marker. Hope Sterling. Scott must have named it. He really did care that much. Scarlett stepped forward, her hand raised high. Scott instinctively moved to intercept her wrist, but froze when she turned her tear-streaked face toward him. "What, feeling sorry for her?!" "Who felt sorry for our baby?!" Smack! The slap landed with brutal force. My cheek went completely numb, the sharp taste of copper filling my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scott’s fists shaking violently at his sides. That wasn't enough for Scarlett. Scott brought us all back to the penthouse. Like a conquering general claiming spoils of war, Scarlett kicked open the door to my master bedroom. She took a pair of heavy tailoring shears and shredded my custom wedding gown into ribbons. Every single designer ring in my jewelry box was jammed onto her fingers. She held up her hands, diamonds flashing under the chandelier, smiling with malicious triumph. "Scott is taking me on a private island retreat tomorrow. He promised he’d give me another baby." "So tell me... who’s the worthless one now?" I kept my head down, offering no response. The heavy front door slammed shut. From the driveway below, Scarlett’s shrill laughter drifted through the open window. "Call me Mrs. Sterling, boys!" Followed by the awkward, hesitant murmurs of Scott’s entourage: "Hey... afternoon, Mrs. Sterling..." I walked out onto the balcony as their convoy pulled away. Scarlett leaned out the passenger window, giving me the middle finger, the diamonds glittering under the afternoon sun. Only then did I allow a genuine, unburdened smile to spread across my face. I leaned against the railing, waving goodbye with cheerful warmth. In the side mirror of his car, Scott was watching me. Seeing my smile, he frowned, instinctively tapping the brakes. Scarlett quickly grabbed his hand and pressed it against her lower belly. He looked away, accelerating onto the expressway. Once they hit the highway, a sudden shriek pierced the silence of their car. "Shit! Where's my phone?!" One of Scott’s friends in the back seat blinked, looking down at his screen. "Wait... Scarlett’s account is going live?" "Hold on... isn't that Summer?" On the phone screen, I was leaning casually against the terrace railing of the penthouse. The wind tousled my dark hair, bathed in the rich, golden light of the setting sun. Every distinctive landmark of the skyline behind me was visible in sharp detail. I was smiling with radiant freedom. Scott had kept my personal phone under digital lock and key. So I simply lifted Scarlett’s spare. Her passcode was Scott’s birthday—pathetically predictable. Did they really think I took that slap for free? I leaned toward the camera and spoke softly: "I miss you." Laughter erupted inside Scott’s car. "Man, she really knows how to play you, Scott! Using an Instagram Live to beg you to turn around!" Scott stared at the screen, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in an involuntary smirk, the tension leaving his shoulders. He kept his tone stern: "I'm not turning around. She needs to learn her lesson this time..." His words were cut off mid-sentence. On the screen, my smile softened into something breathtakingly tender as I whispered to the lens: "I miss you, Gabriel Cross." Give him a single breadcrumb, and he will tear the earth apart to reach me. My true love. Gabriel Cross. The moment the name left my lips, the screech of burning rubber tore across the interstate.