Ten minutes before our wedding ceremony, my fiancé slapped me inside the bridal suite because I refused to sign a financial agreement he had hidden from me. “You’ll sign it, or there won’t be a wedding,” he snapped, then shoved me into the vanity. My cheek swelled and my shoulder bruised beneath my gown. I walked down the aisle anyway. He thought I had surrendered—until he saw my attorney sitting in the front row

On Thursday afternoon, I visited the Fayette County Detention Center.

Adrian was sitting behind a thick glass partition in the visiting room, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, his hair unwashed, a stubble of dark beard covering his jawline.

When I sat down on the stool across from him, he picked up the gray plastic telephone receiver with trembling hands.

I picked up mine.

"Claire," Adrian breathed, his voice sounding hollow through the small earpiece speaker. "Claire... thank God you came. You have to tell them to drop the charges. My lawyer says if this goes to trial, I could face actual jail time."

I looked at him through the glass. Six days ago, I was supposed to stand beside this man in front of God and three hundred guests. Now, he looked like a complete stranger who had wandered into my life by accident.

"I'm not dropping the charges, Adrian," I said quietly.

He slammed his free hand against the glass, making the heavy frame rattle. "Why are you doing this to me?! I made a mistake! I lost my temper! Every couple fights before a wedding!"

"Couples argue about flowers and guest lists, Adrian," I told him, my tone completely unbothered by his outburst. "They don't slap each other across the face and demand forty-two million dollars in asset transfers."

"My father pressured me!" Adrian lied frantically, his eyes wild with desperate self-preservation. "It was all him! He told me if I didn't get your signature on that contract, he would cut me out of the trust! He threatened to fire me from Cole Enterprises! I did it for us, Claire! So we could have a future!"

"You didn't do it for us, Adrian," I said, leaning closer to the glass. "You did it because you're a coward. You wanted my money to buy your father's approval, and when I said no, you thought you could beat me into submission because I was wearing a white dress."

Adrian closed his eyes, tears of frustration streaming down his cheeks, smearing against the dark circles under his eyes.

"I loved you, Claire," he whispered. "I really did."

"No, Adrian," I replied softly. "You loved the idea of a girl who didn't ask questions. You loved the idea of forty-two million dollars wrapped in an ivory veil. But that girl died in the bridal suite six days ago."

"What happens to me now?" he sobbed, resting his forehead against the cold glass.

"You sign the plea deal my lawyers prepared," I said. "You take your probation, you pay your restitution, and you spend the next five years learning how to live as an ordinary man without your father's money."

"And you?" he asked, looking up through red-rimmed eyes.