Chapter 1

I was the pitiful girlfriend of one of Scotland's most charming men. Everyone knew how much he adored me—or so they thought.

The day I found out I was pregnant, I rushed to tell him, my heart bursting with joy. But before I could even speak, I overheard him laughing with his friends.

"You really think I'd marry someone so average? I only went after her because I lost a bet!"

One of his brothers smirked. "Then what's with the hair tie on your wrist? You never take it off."

Paul Wilson yanked it off and tossed it to the ground. "She cries if I don't wear it. Honestly, it's gotten so annoying."

His friends stared in disbelief as he pulled out a wedding invitation and flung it onto the table. "I'm marrying Emma Jones next week—Scotland's goddess. Game over."

Later, I ended the pregnancy and vanished from his life. Yet somehow, he was the one who fell apart, searching for me everywhere.

I stood frozen outside the door, the pregnancy test crumpled in my trembling hand, my entire world collapsing.

Paul's brothers examined the invitation, whistling in approval. "Damn, your fiancée's stunning. Emma Jones? Didn't she leave the country because of your clingy girlfriend? Didn't realize you two stayed in touch!"

"No wonder you're finally ditching that ratty hair tie. The queen's back in town!"

One of them picked it up, turning it over with a sneer. "Only your naive little girlfriend would give something this cheap. Emma's watch cost millions."

"Here, let me trash this piece of junk for you."

Just as he moved to throw it away, Paul's hand shot out to stop him—until his eyes locked onto mine in the doorway.

He froze, then dropped his arm awkwardly. "Olivia? What are you doing here? You hate these kinds of places."

I didn't answer. Instead, I stepped forward and took the hair tie from his brother's grip. That "cheap, childish" thing they mocked was the last gift my grandmother ever gave me. She'd walked to the store herself, frail and sick, just to buy it for me.

"When I'm gone," she'd whispered, "I'll be a star watching over you. This will remind you I'm always here."

The day Paul and I became official, I gave it to him—my most precious possession—and told him its meaning. He'd sworn to cherish it. But he forgot.

Now, I wiped the dust off the faded, stretched-out band and slid it back onto my wrist. My vision blurred, but I refused to let him see me cry.

Paul scowled. "Here we go again. Always crying like I've tortured you. Can't you take a joke?"

His friends chimed in, forcing smiles. "Come on, sis, he's messing around. He's worn this thing for five years—you really think he'd toss it?"

But the damage was done.