Over the years, Carol had always been a wedge between Sloan and Wyatt. At first, Sloan had thought Carol was just a lonely little girl craving love, which was why she tolerated her constant interference. Maybe it was because they both had difficult upbringings that Sloan even treated Carol with affection, almost like a little sister.
But Carol never appreciated it.
Instead, she would deliberately share a bowl of food with Wyatt, drink from the same glass and even sleep in the same bed—right in front of Sloan.
And then, Carol had the audacity to say, “Sloan! As long as I’m around, you’ll never have Wyatt fully. He loves me the most. If you insist on being blind about this, don’t blame me when you’re left with nothing but an empty title as Mrs. Finley!”
Sloan had brushed it off at the time, confident that Wyatt’s love and respect for her were unshakable. He had always treated her with the utmost care, both in public and in private. He couldn’t possibly betray her like that.
Until he did.
Until he started choosing Carol over her. Over and over again.
Harper Kemp, Sloan’s best friend, stood to the side, her face twisted with rage. She was ready to expose Wyatt for the cheating scumbag he was, but Sloan stopped her with a trembling hand.
“It’s not worth it,” Sloan said weakly. “Come on, let’s go.”
Her legs gave out beneath her and she collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably as sobs tore through her chest. Tears streamed down her face, no longer held back. The beautiful memories they had built together shattered before her eyes, leaving only broken pieces that could never be put back together.
Harper rushed to her side, wrapping an arm around Sloan’s shoulders. “Come on, babe. Let’s get you to the hospital.”
While Harper stepped out to buy some soup, Wyatt arrived at the hospital, breathless and anxious.
“Congratulations, Mr. Finley! Your fiancee is pregnant!” the doctor announced with a bright smile.
A flash of joy crossed Wyatt’s face before concern immediately took over. “How is Sloan? Is she okay?”
The doctor adjusted Sloan’s blanket and smiled warmly. “She is fine. Just fainted from emotional shock. You two must be so close—Mr. Finley, you seem more worried about her than the baby–just like the rumors say. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.”
Wyatt smiled and thanked the doctor, his hand tightening around Sloan’s.
He didn’t notice how quiet Sloan had become.
She already knew that even if they had a child together, there was no going back to the way things were.
It was the child she felt sorry for—it had come at the wrong time, in the middle of a broken relationship.
After the doctor left, Wyatt took her hand between his, his thumb brushing gently over the back of her hand. His voice was soft and filled with quiet excitement.
“We’re going to have a baby,” he said, his eyes bright with hope. “We’re going to be a happy family of three. I will—”
Before he could finish, his phone buzzed.
Wyatt glanced at the screen, his expression tightening as he instinctively angled the phone away from Sloan’s view.
Sloan’s lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. “Who is it?” she asked softly.
Wyatt’s face remained calm. “Just work.”
But as he read the message, his brow creased and his fingers moved quickly across the screen, typing a reply.
Sloan reached for his arm, her touch light but pleading. “I’m not feeling well. Can you stay with me for a little while?”
Wyatt was about to put the phone down when another message popped up—this time, a picture.
It was Carol, smiling smugly, her arm draped around the neck of a young male celebrity. Her expression was playful, teasing and a little provocative.
Wyatt’s mouth curled into a helpless, indulgent smile.
“I’d love to but I can’t,” Wyatt said, standing up. “Something came up at work. They need me. Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”
He kissed her forehead before walking away without a second glance.
Sloan’s heart twisted painfully. She had known this would happen. She had known Carol would always come first.
How could she have been so foolish to think that years of companionship could compete with the pull of first love?
Sloan pulled the blanket over her head and sobbed until her chest hurt.
Not long after, Sloan’s phone buzzed with a message. It was a video from Carol.
In the video, Wyatt was holding Carol’s hand, his voice low and coaxing. “My little princess, stop hanging around with those guys. They’re no good for you. Come on, be good and come home.”
“No!” Carol’s voice wavered, thick with hurt. “Aren't you about to marry that woman? Why are you even here?” A bitter smile curled her lips. “Since you don’t want me anymore, why shouldn’t I find someone else? I can be with any man I want—I could even marry him if I wanted to. What are you gonna do about it?”
Wyatt’s expression darkened, jealousy flashing in his eyes like a storm about to break loose.
He grabbed Carol’s arm and pulled her into his arms. “You’re not allowed to be with anyone else,” he said, his voice sharp and possessive. “I’m the only one you’re allowed to be with.”
Carol gave a taunting smile at the camera before leaning down and kissing him.
Sloan couldn’t watch the rest of it. Her vision blurred with tears.
Because Wyatt had said those exact same words to her once.
Back then, her adoptive mother had been seriously ill. The Tanner Family had promised to help her find the best doctor and cover the expensive medical bills—but the catch was that Sloan had to become a pawn in a strategic marriage.
With no other option, she told Wyatt and broke up with him. She could still remember how Wyatt’s eyes had turned bloodshot that day as he clung to her desperately, swearing that he would marry her no matter what.
Later, after cutting ties with his family, he had knelt down and begged the family head for forgiveness, enduring humiliation and paying a steep price to make the marriage between the two families possible.
But Sloan had never been the long-lost heiress everyone envied. She was just a bargaining chip, a convenient piece in a calculated deal.
And she wasn’t the beloved fiancée everyone thought she was—she was just the catalyst that made this whole mess possible.
This moment confirmed what she had always feared: she was nothing more than a placeholder in Wyatt’s life.
A week passed. Wyatt never came to visit her, not even when she was discharged from the hospital.
Sloan ignored the messages and calls from Harper Kemp, choosing instead to return alone to the Grant estate.
As soon as she stepped inside, the sound of carefree laughter echoed through the house. Carol was running around barefoot in Sloan’s pajamas.
Wyatt followed behind her, holding a pair of matching slippers. “Carol, stop running around. Come here and put these on. You’ll catch a cold.”
“No.” Carol pouted like a spoiled child. “Carry me! I want piggy back!”
Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hooked her legs around his waist, her fingers teasing the back of his hair.
Wyatt’s jaw tightened, but instead of pushing her away, he carried her effortlessly to the dining table, setting her down. His expression softened as he brushed his thumb across the tip of her nose. “Stop being difficult, or I’m going to punish you. You’re not a kid anymore, Carol.”
The two of them were so wrapped up in each other that they didn’t notice Sloan standing by the floor-to-ceiling window. She clenched the door handle, forcing down the hurt rising in her chest. Then, with a calm expression, she punched in the code and walked inside.
Hearing the door open, Wyatt instinctively pushed Carol away.
“Sloan… You’re out of the hospital?” His smile was tight. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Maybe it was guilt, but Wyatt immediately started explaining. “This is Carol. She is my mom’s goddaughter. You’ve met her before. She just got back in town yesterday and needed a place to stay for a few days. About the pajamas—”
“It’s fine. Just fabric,” Sloan cut him off. Without waiting for a reaction, she turned and headed upstairs.
If she was going to leave, she needed to cut all ties—wipe out every trace of him from her life.
Upstairs, Sloan began rummaging through her closet, gathering all the gifts Wyatt had ever given her—bracelets, handwritten notes, clothes and tossing them into a cardboard box.
Wyatt panicked at the sight of her packing. His voice trembled. “Sloan, I’m sorry. I know I screwed up. I didn’t know Carol took your pajamas—I’ll tell her to leave right now if that’s what you want! You can yell at me, punish me the way you want but just don’t leave me!”
Same old story. That's how men are. They commit mistakes, they realize when they do it and they always apologize—never change.
Wyatt knew Sloan was a clean freak and she hated people touching her stuff, yet he still brought someone into their home and let them touch her personal things.
Was it all for the thrill of it? Testing the waters again and again, pushing her limits just to get her on edge? Did he really not know?
That nightgown was her favorite—the one she had blushed over when he first bought it for her. He had been so young and earnest back then, whispering in her ear over and over, “I love you, Sloan. Having you is the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to me. I swear I’ll never let you down.”
And she had believed him–thought her Cinderella moment had finally come. But not every Cinderella gets her prince.
If she weren’t the daughter of the wealthy Tanner Family, they would’ve split up a long time ago.
Tears spilled down Sloan’s cheeks. Wyatt panicked, fumbling to wipe them away. “Oh, no. Please, don’t cry. Seeing you cry hurts me more than anything. I swear I’ll never let anyone else into our home again, okay?”
Wyatt’s voice trembled with sincerity as he knelt on the floor, his hands clutching hers like a lifeline. His eyes were wide with desperation, silently begging for her forgiveness.
Sloan studied his remorseful face for a long moment, then smiled faintly through her tears. “That’s alright. It’s just a nightgown. I’ll throw it away. Not a big deal.” Her tone was calm, almost too calm. “While I was tidying up, I suddenly remembered that my mother’s death anniversary is coming. I guess I got a little carried away.”
“You scared me for a second there,” Wyatt said, exhaling sharply. He pressed a hand to his chest as if trying to steady his racing heart. His tone softened, almost childlike. “When you started packing without saying anything, I thought you were leaving me.”
He nuzzled her neck, his arms tightening around her as if afraid she might slip away.
“I promised you, didn’t I?” Sloan said softly, pushing him away with gentle firmness. “As long as you don’t betray me, I’ll never leave you.”
Her voice sharpened slightly as she added, “By the way, why are you so nervous? Are you hiding something from me? Did you cheat on me?”
Wyatt’s breath hitched. His eyes widened in alarm. “Of course not! You’re the only love of my life, Sloan,” He quickly held up his hand, his voice trembling. “You have to believe me. I swear to God—if I ever betray you, may I die alone and miserable!”
Then she chuckled softly. “I’m just messing with you,” she said, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement. A soft laugh slipped past her lips. “You love me too much to betray me.”
But deep down, she knew better. Men are greedy. They want the comfort of home and the thrill of something new. Lies come so easily to them.
She wondered if, when the day finally came, he would feel even the slightest trace of regret.
Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting away. “Yeah, you’re the only one I love.”
The tense moment was broken by the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor downstairs, followed by Carol’s delicate sobbing. Wyatt’s expression remained calm, but his body tensed.
“I’m going to check it,” Wyatt said baring light smile. “Please, stop crying, okay? Or you'll get your eyes swollen and you won’t look good for the wedding.”
Sloan nodded wordlessly and he left the room. His steps were quick and slightly uneven—a subtle giveaway of his guilt.
Sloan had no intention of going downstairs to watch them play out their little drama.
But the noise from below was impossible to ignore.
First, someone shouted for a private doctor. Then, there was talk of possible amputation. It all sounded like a full-blown emergency.
Curiosity got the better of her.
When she walked downstairs, she found Carol sitting on the couch, her foot propped up on Wyatt’s lap. Her ankle had a faint bruise—barely enough to warrant a bandaid.
Yet Wyatt was handling it as if she were made of glass. He cradled her foot with both hands, gently massaging the injured spot, his face lined with worry.
Carol’s cheeks were flushed, her breath coming out in soft gasps.
