Ten minutes before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, my fiancé’s grandmother pulled me aside, squeezed my hand, and whispered something that instantly unsettled me.

I didn't stop running until I reached my car in the chapel parking lot.

Tears blinded my vision as I yanked off my pearl veil, throwing it onto the pavement. My hands shook so badly I could barely unlock the sedan with my key fob.

"Clara! Wait!"

I turned around. My best friend and maid of honor, Maya, came running out of the chapel doors, hitching up her long burgundy dress.

"Clara! Oh my god, Clara, hold on!" Maya gasped, reaching me and pulling me into a fierce, protective hug.

I collapsed against her shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. "Maya... he lied to me. He lied to me the entire time."

"I know, babe. I know," Maya whispered, rubbing my back firmly. "Listen to me, your dad is taking care of the guests inside. He told me to get you out of here before the Sterlings try to corner you."

"Where am I going to go?" I wept. "All my things are at Julian's apartment."

"You're coming to my place," Maya said firmly. She helped me climb into the passenger seat, gathered up the heavy train of my wedding dress, slammed the door shut, and ran around to the driver's side.

As Maya pulled out of the parking lot, I looked in the side mirror.

Julian stood near the fountain at the chapel entrance, his tuxedo jacket gone, his tie loosened. He was screaming into his cell phone while his mother, Eleanor, stood beside him, frantically gesturing at security guards.

We drove in silence for twenty minutes until we reached Maya's small apartment on the outskirts of the city.

Maya helped me unbutton the seventy-two silk buttons down the back of my gown. I stripped off the heavy, suffocating white dress, throwing it onto her couch like a toxic skin I needed to shed. I put on a pair of Maya's oversized sweatpants and a worn cotton hoodie.

Sitting at her kitchen counter with a steaming mug of tea between my hands, my body finally stopped shaking, replaced by a deep, hollow numbness.

My phone on the counter buzzed relentlessly.

Julian (14 Missed Calls) Eleanor Sterling (8 Missed Calls) Unknown Number (3 Missed Calls)

"Don't answer them," Maya said, handing me a glass of water.

"I won't," I murmured.

Suddenly, my phone chimed with a text message from the unknown number.

I picked it up.

Unknown: Clara, please. It's Valerie Mercer. I'm so sorry for what happened at the chapel. But you are in danger. Julian and Eleanor aren't going to let this go. Meet me at the diner on 4th Street in twenty minutes. Alone. Please.

Maya leaned over my shoulder, reading the text. "Whoa. The mystery crying woman?"

"She says I'm in danger," I whispered, staring at the screen.

"Clara, this could be a setup," Maya warned, her brow furrowing. "Julian could be using her to track you down."

"No," I shook my head, remembering the expression on Valerie's face outside the chapel. "She looked terrified, Maya. She looked at me like she wanted to save me, but couldn't."

I grabbed my coat and car keys.

"I'm coming with you," Maya insisted, grabbing her bag. "I'll sit two booths away with a butter knife. If anyone tries anything, I'm taking eyes out."

Ten minutes later, we arrived at the dimly lit, 24-hour diner on 4th Street. Rain had begun to fall, smearing the neon red signs against the wet glass windows.

I stepped inside.

In the back booth, wrapped in a faded beige trench coat, sat Valerie Mercer.

She was stirring a cup of black coffee, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen.

I walked over and sat down in the booth opposite her. Maya took a seat near the counter, keeping her eyes fixed on us.

Valerie looked up. She took a deep breath. "Thank you for coming, Clara."

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice cold and direct. "And what do those four words mean?"