He Blamed Me for Her Death

The crystal chandelier cast fractured light across the marble floor as Matthew paced the length of the Vanderbilt estate's grand salon. His shadow stretched and contracted with each agitated step, a dark reflection of the storm brewing inside him. I watched from the doorway, my fingers clutching the silk of my evening dress, the fabric damp with nervous perspiration.

"You're impossible to please, Eliza," Matthew snapped, his voice slicing through the silence. "Everything has to be perfect for you, doesn't it? The flowers, the music, the guest list—God forbid anything deviates from your precious checklist."

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my voice steady. "The florist simply suggested changing the arrangements to better complement the venue's architecture. It wasn't my idea."

"Of course it was." He whirled to face me, eyes flashing with contempt. "You've been orchestrating this entire production, haven't you? Making sure everyone knows how important the Livingstone-Vanderbilt union is. How important *you* are."

The accusation stung, but I'd grown accustomed to Matthew's volatility. Three years of engagement had taught me to weather his storms, to remind myself of the ten-year-old boy who had pulled me from the depths of Silver Lake when I'd slipped through the ice. That memory—his small hands gripping mine, his determined expression as he dragged me to safety—had sustained me through countless nights like this one.

"I just want everything to be perfect for us," I said softly.

"There is no 'us,' Eliza." Matthew's laugh was sharp, brittle. "There's only what our families want. What this merger of empires requires."

He yanked the platinum engagement ring from his finger—the ring I'd helped select, the one that had taken months to custom design with the intertwined family crests. Before I could react, he strode to the open French doors leading to the terrace and hurled it into the darkness beyond.

"Matthew!" I gasped, rushing forward. "What are you doing?"

"Do you see that?" He pointed into the night, toward the lake that glittered like scattered diamonds in the moonlight. "That's how much I care about this farce of a wedding. That's how much I care about you."

My heart pounded against my ribs. "The ring... it's a family heirloom..."

"Then you should go find it," he sneered. "Show everyone how committed you are to this arrangement."

With that, he stormed past me, colliding with his friend Carter who had been hovering in the hallway. "I'm done with this," Matthew muttered, loud enough for me to hear. "She can play princess by herself tomorrow."

The heavy oak door slammed behind them, leaving me alone in the cavernous room. I stood motionless, the echo of Matthew's rage fading into silence. Then I moved, my steps quickening as I realized what I needed to do.

The night air bit through my thin dress as I descended the stone steps to the lakeside. The water looked black and impenetrable, reflecting a half-moon that seemed to mock my predicament. I kicked off my heels and waded in, the cold immediately numbing my feet.

"It has to be here," I whispered to myself, the words clouding in the frigid air. "It can't have sunk that far."

The water rose to my knees, then my waist. My dress billowed around me, waterlogged and heavy. I dove forward, submerging myself in the icy darkness, my hands groping along the silty bottom. Each time I surfaced, I gasped for breath, the cold stealing the air from my lungs.

Hours passed. My fingers grew raw and pruned. My teeth chattered uncontrollably. Still, I searched, driven by a desperate need to salvage something from this wreckage. Not for Matthew—for myself, for my family, for the two dynasties that had intertwined for generations.

The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten when my fingers closed around something hard and metallic. I surfaced with a cry of triumph, clutching the ring to my chest. The platinum band gleamed dully in the pre-dawn light, the intertwined crests barely visible through the lake scum.

Exhausted and shivering, I dragged myself to shore. My dress clung to me like a second skin, my hair a tangled mess of lake weed and mud. I didn't care. I had the ring. I had salvaged our future.

I trudged back toward the main house, my soaked dress leaving a trail of water across the marble floors. The staff averted their eyes as I passed, their expressions a mixture of pity and discomfort. I didn't blame them. What must I look like? The mad bride, searching for a ring her fiancé had thrown away in a fit of pique.

As I approached Matthew's study to return the ring, I heard voices from within. I slowed my steps, not wanting to interrupt what sounded like a private conversation.

"Four years, Carter," Matthew's voice drifted through the partially open door. "Four years I've been planning this."

"I still don't get why you didn't just call off the engagement," Carter replied, his tone curious rather than concerned.

Matthew's laugh was cold, calculated. "Where's the satisfaction in that? Besides, the merger has to happen. The families need it. I just have to make sure Eliza pays for what she did to Rose."

My blood froze in my veins.

"Rose died because of her," Matthew continued, his voice hardening. "Eliza asked me to pick her up that day. If I hadn't been waiting for her call, I would have been there for Rose. I would have prevented that crash."

"That's... harsh, man," Carter said weakly.

"Harsh?" Matthew's voice rose. "What's harsh is that she gets to walk around like she's innocent. Like she hasn't destroyed lives. These past three years have been nothing compared to what's coming. After we're married, I'll make sure she understands exactly what she took from me."

"And the Livingstone family?"

"They'll fall too. Once I'm married to Eliza, I'll have access to their vulnerabilities. Their business dealings, their secrets. By the time I'm done, neither she nor her family will have anything left."

Something inside me shattered. The ring slipped from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. I barely noticed as I stumbled backward, away from the door, away from the truth that had been hidden from me for four years.

Rose. His ex-girlfriend who had died in a car accident. A tragedy I'd heard whispers about but never connected to myself. Now I understood the source of Matthew's hatred, his calculated cruelty. He blamed me for her death.

With trembling hands, I found a telephone in the adjacent sitting room. My parents answered on the second ring, their voices bright with wedding-day excitement.

"Eliza, darling! Are you getting nervous? Just a few more hours and—"

"Mom. Dad. Cancel the wedding," I interrupted, my voice barely recognizable even to myself.

"Sweetheart, what are you—"

"No," I cut them off. "Find someone else. Anyone else. But I am not marrying Matthew Vanderbilt."

"Please. The wedding needs a new groom."