At my mother’s funeral, my sister Stephanie arrived with Nathan—the millionaire fiancé she stole from me six years ago. Flaunting her diamond ring, she whispered, “Poor you, still alone at thirty-eight. I got the man, the money, and the mansion.”
I smiled calmly and asked, “Have you met my husband yet?”
When I called him over, her face went pale. My husband was Zachary Foster—the investor who’d dismantled Nathan’s business empire years earlier.
My name is Rebecca Wilson. Six years ago, Stephanie betrayed me with Nathan, shattering my trust and my world. I moved to Chicago to rebuild, where I met and married Zachary, finding true love and stability.
At the funeral, Stephanie’s arrogance faded as she realized Nathan’s fortune had crumbled and their marriage was a hollow facade. Later, she confessed her regrets and plans to leave him. Though our relationship remains complicated, we’ve begun to heal.
Now, with a daughter named after my mother and a life built on genuine love, I understand that Stephanie’s betrayal unintentionally freed me to find real happiness—one that can’t be stolen.