At the bachelor party the night before the wedding, the truth-or-dare penalty was brutal—show the most hidden photo on your phone.

Gina, Peter's so-called "girl bro," lost. She just grinned and cast her screen onto the big TV.

A marriage license filled the screen, stamped by the county clerk.

Names: Peter Cooke and Gina Draper.

Date: yesterday.

The room went dead silent.

I stared at Peter's drained face. Gina didn't flinch. She patted his shoulder.

"Oops. Guess you found out. Joey, don't take it seriously. Just a dumb bet. I wanted to see what the county clerk's office looked like, so I dared Peter to register a marriage with me."

She leaned in, eyes on me like I was the joke. "You're still getting your wedding tomorrow. The vows, the ceremony. I just borrowed your fiancé for a stamp. Don't tell me you're jealous of his buddy."

Peter jumped up and pulled me in. "Babe, listen. You're the only one in my heart. It was just a joke."

He pulled out the diamond ring, dropped to one knee. "I'll file for divorce first thing tomorrow. It won't mess up our noon wedding. Invites are already out. Don't make this a scene in front of my friends. Once we're married, all my money's yours, okay?"

I smiled.

He had no clue how any of this worked. Didn't even know divorce came with a thirty-day wait.

I didn't take the ring. I pulled out my phone and blasted a group text canceling the wedding.

The send notification cut through the room.

Peter shot up and snatched my phone.

He stared at the group chat. Panic flashed, then twisted into anger. "Joey Jensen, are you insane? I said I'd file for divorce tomorrow. You really had to take it this far? You trying to make me a joke in front of everyone?"

Gina picked at her ear and snorted. "Peter, I told you—girls are drama. Can't take a joke without blowing it up."

She swung a leg over the couch and sat there, chewing gum. "Joey, you're being way too uptight. Peter and I grew up like family. If I actually wanted him, you wouldn't even have had a shot. It's just paper. You really gonna kill the vibe over that?"

A few of his buddies jumped in, same tune—I was the problem.

I looked at the guy I'd loved for five years, cold. "If it's just paper, then go marry it tomorrow."

I turned to grab my bag.

Peter grabbed my wrist.

"If you walk out that door tonight, don't expect me to come crawling after you."

He clenched his jaw, yanked a bank card from his wallet, and slapped it on the table. "Didn't you want that limited-edition bag? Take it. Spend whatever. Call it compensation. But send another message—say the cancellation was just truth or dare."

The card made my stomach turn.

Five years ago, his startup crashed. He couldn't even afford food. I worked three jobs to carry us. Back then, he carved me a wooden hair clip, eyes red, swearing I'd never suffer again.

Now he had money—and thought it could buy me.

I shook off his hand, didn't even look at the card. "Keep your money. Stay with your girl bro."

I shoved the door open and walked out. Didn't look back.

Behind me, glass shattered. Then Peter's voice, sharp with anger. "Let her go! Let's see how long she keeps this up!"

The night air hit cold. I pulled my coat tighter, and the tears finally came.

Six straight months. That's how long I'd spent planning this wedding—every detail on me.

But my fiancé had legally married someone else yesterday.

I don't know how long I cried. Then my phone started buzzing like crazy in my bag.

The screen lit up—the hospital.

I answered. A nurse's voice came fast and tight. "Is this Joey Jensen? Your grandmother just went into heart failure. She needs bypass surgery now. Please come sign the consent forms and make the payment right away."

***

Grandma was my only family.

My parents died young. She raised me collecting recyclables.

I ran to the street like I'd lost it, hands shaking so bad I could barely open a car door.

By the time I got to the hospital, they'd already rushed her into the ER.

A doctor came up, face tight, holding a critical notice. "She's in extremely critical condition. We need surgery now. With ICU after, it'll be about $300,000. Make the payment and we'll start immediately."

Three hundred thousand.

Everything I had—savings, years of wages—sat in a joint account under Peter's name.

Back then, I called it trust. Said it was for our wedding. I gave it all to him.

My fingers shook as I dialed Peter.

It rang forever before someone picked up. Gina.

"Hello? Joey? Peter can't talk right now. We're at the police station."

Her voice was casual. Almost smug.

I bit my lip, forced myself steady. "Put Peter on. My grandma's in the ER. I need the money from our joint account."

Gina laughed, soft and mocking. "Wow, that's a stretch. You were fine canceling the wedding earlier. Now your grandma's in the ER? Peter's busy helping me deal with a fight. Don't bother him with nonsense."

I cut her off. "Gina Draper. This is life or death. I'm not joking. Put him on."

Maybe it was something in my voice. A few seconds later, Peter came on, impatient.

"Joey, what are you trying to pull now? Gina got into it with some guys at a street stall and cracked someone's head. I'm negotiating with the family."

I leaned against the hospital wall, tears slipping down. "My grandma went into heart failure. She needs $300,000 for surgery. Please transfer the money."

Peter let out a cold laugh. "So now you're cursing your own grandma just to make me come back and apologize? I saw her yesterday. She was fine. How would she suddenly have heart failure?"

I was so desperate I was basically begging. "I'm not lying! The doctor's right here. If you don't believe me, talk to him!"

I shoved the phone at the doctor. He'd just opened his mouth—

The line went dead.

Peter hung up.

I called back. His phone was already off.

Despair hit like a tidal wave.

I stared at the red light over the ER doors, my whole body going numb.

Three years ago, when Grandma got sick, Peter sold his motorcycle without a second thought to cover her bills.

He'd said, "Joey, your family is my family. I'd give everything to save your grandma."

That one line kept me with him for five years.

Now he was cleaning up his girl bro's street fight—and hung up on the call that could've saved her.

The doctor sighed and shoved the payment notice into my hand. "You need to hurry. She doesn't have time."

***

I flipped through my contacts like I was scrambling blind, calling every classmate and coworker I could think of.

After begging everywhere, I barely scraped together $50,000.

Still nowhere near $300,000.

I clenched my teeth, flagged a cab, and went straight to the police station where Gina was.

I reached the mediation room and looked in through the glass.

Gina sat there, legs crossed, hair messy, a bruise on her lip.

Peter stood next to her, holding an ice pack to her cheek like it mattered.

His eyes were full of concern. "You're too reckless. Why would you even get into a fight with those guys?"

Gina shrugged. "They wouldn't shut up. Kept harassing me. You're a real one, though, staying this late."

Peter smiled, kinda helpless, and ruffled her short hair. "If I don't stay with you, who will? I already worked it out with them. We'll pay $200,000 and settle it off the record."

The second he said money, I pushed the door open.

They both looked over.

Peter's face dropped. "Joey? You following me?"

I walked straight up to him, eyes locked on the bank card in his hand. "You just said $200,000. You paying it with that?"

He frowned like it was obvious. "So what if I am? Gina acted in self-defense. If she gets a record, how's she supposed to get a job? I'm lending it to her. Once we're married, I'll earn it back. What's the problem?"

My whole body shook. My nails dug into my palms. "That's our savings. More than half is my grandma's pension. I told you on the phone—she's in the ER. She needs that money to live."

Gina rolled her eyes. "You're still putting on a show? You followed us here just to stop Peter? It's just money. I'll pay you back after my bonus next month. You really gonna be this cheap?"

I ignored her, eyes on Peter. "Transfer the rest. Now."

He stood and shoved the card back into his wallet. "Joey Jensen, this is unbelievable. You that jealous you can't show basic decency? Gina's shaken up. Instead of caring, you're making a scene. Where's the grace of someone about to be my wife?"

I stared at him.

Familiar—and a total stranger.

His girl bro hurt someone, and he drained our savings without blinking. My grandma was in the ER, waiting on that money to live—and he called me jealous.

I sucked in a shaky breath and dropped to my knees.

"Peter, I'm begging you. I won't ask for anything back. Just transfer the rest. That's her life."

He flinched, then his face twisted with disgust.

He yanked me up. "Are you done? You really going this far just to drag me back? Let me be clear—even if you dropped right here, I still wouldn't give you a cent for that made-up story."

He shoved my hand away. I lost my balance and hit the floor.

His arm slid around Gina. They walked out.

At the door, he paused, voice cold. "Stay here. Think about what you did. Call me when you learn how to act."

I watched them disappear into the night.

My phone started ringing in my pocket.

My hands shook as I answered.

"Ms. Jensen, the patient didn't make it. Please come say your goodbyes."

***

I don't know how I made it out of the police station.

Dawn was breaking. The wind cut across my face like a blade—but it didn't touch the pain in my chest.