Chapter 2: The Secret Behind the Montgomery Name
Three days after the wedding, I was back where I always felt most comfortable.
The emergency room.
Chaos.
Noise.
Movement.
A place where nobody cared about my dress size, my social status, or whether I belonged in a fancy ballroom.
A place where people were judged by what they did, not what they owned.
At 2:15 in the morning, I was standing beside a patient's bed, adjusting medication while explaining the next steps to his terrified daughter.
“Your father is stable,” I told her.
“The next few hours are important, but right now he is fighting.””
She grabbed my hand.
“Thank you.””
I smiled.
That was why I became a nurse.
Not for recognition.
Not for praise.
For moments like that.
After my shift ended, I sat in my car outside the hospital and stared at the sunrise.
I had slept maybe three hours in two days.
But I couldn't stop thinking about the wedding.
Specifically, Adrian.
His reaction.
His unfinished sentence.
There was something wrong.
I knew that feeling.
Working in trauma teaches you to notice small things.
A patient's breathing pattern.
A change in skin color.
A hesitation before someone answers a question.
Tiny details reveal the truth.
And Adrian Montgomery was hiding something.
I told myself I shouldn't care.
Felicity had made her choice.
My family had made theirs.
I should move on.
But then my phone rang.
It was my father.
I almost didn't answer.
Almost.
But old habits are difficult to break.
“Hi, Dad.””
“Jenna.””
His voice sounded serious.
Not angry.
Worried.
“What happened?””
There was a pause.
“I need you to come over.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
“It's about Felicity.””
My stomach tightened.
Of course it was.
Everything always came back to Felicity.
“When?””
“Tonight.””
I almost refused.
Then I heard something in his voice.
Something I hadn't heard in years.
Helplessness.
So I agreed.
The family home looked exactly the same when I arrived.
Same white exterior.
Same perfectly trimmed bushes.
Same expensive decorations Patricia loved.
But somehow, it felt smaller.
Like the place where I spent my teenage years had finally revealed what it really was.
A beautiful house full of uncomfortable memories.
My father opened the door.
He looked older.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
“Come in.””
Patricia was sitting in the living room.
She didn't stand.
She simply watched me.
That immediately told me this wasn't a casual conversation.
“What happened?”” I asked.
My father rubbed his forehead.
“Felicity and Adrian are having problems.””
I almost laughed.
It had been three days.
Three days.
The perfect marriage was already cracking.
“What kind of problems?””
Patricia answered.
“You always were observant.””
Her tone bothered me.
“What does that mean?””
She looked away.
“Felicity made a mistake.””
My father sighed.
“Patricia.””
“What? She did.””
I looked between them.
“What mistake?””
Nobody answered.
Then my father handed me a folder.
I stared at it.
“What is this?””
“Open it.””
Inside were documents.
Legal documents.
Financial records.
Emails.
I looked up.
“What am I seeing?””
My father's face was pale.
“Adrian's family is investigating Felicity.””
My heart started beating faster.
“Why?””
He swallowed.
“Because they think she lied about something.””
I opened the first document.
And within seconds, I understood.
Felicity hadn't just exaggerated her life.
She had rewritten it.
Her education.
Her career.
Her connections.
Everything.
But the worst part wasn't the lies.
The worst part was seeing my name.
Buried in the documents.
A reference.
A conversation.
A message.
And then I saw the date.
Two months before the wedding.
The same week Felicity asked me for help.
The same week she told me she needed me because “family takes care of family.””
My hands went cold.
Because I finally understood.
She hadn't just used me.
She had used my reputation.
And Adrian's family was about to find out the truth.
A truth that would destroy the perfect image my sister had spent her entire life building.
My father looked at me.
“Jenna…”
I closed the folder.
“What did she do?””
Nobody answered.
And somehow, that silence told me everything.
Felicity Parker wasn't afraid of losing a marriage.
She was afraid of losing the life she had stolen.
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And for the first time in my life…
I wasn't afraid of her anymore.
