I Pretended the Accident Left Me Paralyzed—Then My Fiancée Mocked Me in Front of Everyone

My phone no longer buzzed with frantic texts from my family—they had finally stopped trying after realizing the firewall was permanent. Instead, my inbox overflowed with high-level consulting offers, book deals, and partnership proposals from firms across the globe. I had established my own independent agency, with Stewart Technologies as my anchor client, operating out of a sunlit corner office in downtown Boston that I had chosen entirely for myself.

On a crisp Friday afternoon, I was sitting at a quiet outdoor cafe near the harbor, reviewing a draft for my upcoming book, when a familiar shadow fell across the table.

I looked up. Emmett stood there holding two cups of artisanal coffee, a warm, easy smile on his face. He slid one of the cups across the marble table toward me before taking the seat opposite mine.

“Working hard or hardly working?” he teased, leaning back.

“Always working,” I smiled, closing my laptop. “Though I have to admit, the view from this table is significantly better than Table Nineteen.”

Emmett laughed, a rich, genuine sound that made the afternoon sun feel a little warmer.

“Speaking of tables,” Emmett said, his expression softening into something more personal as he reached across the table and gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “There’s a high-society charity gala next Friday night. A lot of very important, very superficial people will be there.”

I raised an eyebrow, sipping my coffee. “Is that an invitation or a warning?”

“It’s both,” Emmett smiled, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “And this time, I’m not letting you sit at the back. I want you right up front. As my guest. As my equal. What do you say?”

I looked down at the bustling harbor, then back at the man who had walked across an entire ballroom just to find the person everyone else had tried to hide.