Fiancé's Betrayal: My Fatal Wedding Gift

From the back cover

I was given three months to live. My fiancé, however, decided that was far too long.

I overheard him with my stepsister, Krista, calling our three-year relationship a "charade" he was tired of.

The bone marrow I donated to him after a car crash-the very act that triggered my fatal illness-wasn't a sacrifice. It was a transaction. He had manipulated my guilt to use me as a placeholder while he waited for his true love, Krista.

He abandoned me bleeding at our engagement party to tend to her fake injury, then gave her power of attorney over my critically ill brother, forcing me to agree to her cruel demands.

My love was a lie. My sacrifice was a punchline. The man I thought was my savior had orchestrated my death sentence and then buried me with his betrayal.

So on my wedding day, as he waited at the altar for Krista, I faked my own death. I left him with one final wedding gift: my terminal diagnosis and the truth of his deception. It was time for my revenge.