Five years after Natalie vanished and was declared dead, I was slowly healing—raising our daughter Emma alone. When I attended my best friend
Stefan’s wedding, I never expected the bride to be Natalie. Alive. As our eyes met, she fled. I found her outside, where she coldly admitted
her powerful father had faked her death for a “clean slate.” Stefan overheard—and ended the wedding. I didn’t lose Natalie that day.
I realized I had survived her. With Emma’s hand in mine, we walked away—finally free.
