Chapter 2: The Honeymoon They Stole

After saving the files, a strange numbness settled in my chest.

But as I went to close the browser, another thought struck me.

The honeymoon.

I’d booked a luxury cabin in Montana, a secluded retreat where my favorite author had once written a novel. With only six private cabins in the entire forest, it was booked out a year in advance during peak season.

To get the dates immediately following our wedding, I’d leveraged my elite status with the hotel group and sat on a waitlist for months.

I’d drained my entire points balance just to secure seven nights.

I pulled up the hotel website and typed in my login information.

The reservation appeared instantly.

The booking was active. The check-in date was unchanged.

But the guest names had been altered from:

“Mara Ellis & Luke Bennett”

to:

“June Calloway & Luke Bennett.”

I stared at the screen, motionless.

Then I scrolled down and saw the special requests.

“Celebrating newlyweds. Please prepare welcome champagne for Ms. Calloway.”

They weren’t just stealing my wedding. They were planning to board my flights, stay in the cabin I had fought for, and drink the champagne requested in *her* name.

And in the payment details, the points were still drawn from my account.

The credit card on file was still mine.

Luke didn’t intend to pay a single cent.

Then I remembered. Two months ago, he’d asked for my hotel login.

He’d been lounging on the sofa, as casual as could be.

“Hey, send me your login. I want to see if I can use my status to get us an upgrade for the honeymoon.”

I’d been wrestling with the guest list and had actually stopped to kiss him, touched that he was finally taking an interest.

It turns out the only interest he’d taken was in figuring out how to cut me from the reservation while keeping all the benefits I’d paid for.

June’s Instagram post was still open on the left side of my screen. She was smiling, draped over Luke’s shoulder as if she owned the place.

On the right was the hotel reservation. “Please prepare welcome champagne for Ms. Calloway.”

They stole my wedding, moved into my house, used my dishes, drank my wine, and couldn’t even be bothered to plan their own honeymoon.

I did the planning. I paid the bills. I laid out the future.

All they had to do was delete my name.

I didn’t cry. And I didn’t cancel the reservation.

Once the rage crested, a cold calm washed over me.

I screenshotted the reservation page, the modification timestamp, the points summary, and the credit card guarantee. I added them all to the folder named Evidence.

Then I shut the laptop.

The room was silent.

And I began to make a plan.