Page 193 of Broken Destiny

The sanctuary buzzed with whispers the moment people saw our expressions. Guests leaned toward one another, murmuring while photographers lowered their cameras uncertainly.

I stopped at the front of the church and turned toward the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said, my voice steady but firm. “First ofall, thank you very much for coming here today. However, we regret to inform you that Tatiana and I will not be getting married today. It was a mutual decision, and we are sorry for any inconvenience caused.”

A ripple of gasps moved through the guests.

The wedding planner stepped forward immediately, taking control of the situation with professional composure, guiding the guests and families through the chaos that followed.

People gathered around our families, offering apologies, asking questions, expressing concern, but their words sounded distant, muffled, as if I were underwater.

None of it mattered.

There was only one thought pounding through my mind.

I needed to get out of there.

I needed to find Jiya.

I needed to tell her everything.

Most of all, I knew with absolute certainty that nothing—no embarrassment, no scandal, no family expectations—was going to stop me from getting to her.

“Let’s get you outta here,” Greg said quietly, gripping my shoulder.

We hurried out through the side entrance.

The moment we reached the car, I slid into the passenger seat, my heart racing.

“Take me to my parents’ house,” I said quickly. “I need to get something from there.”

A memory had surfaced suddenly—something I had seen earlier but never had the chance to read properly.

“I’ll call and get the chopper ready,” I added, pulling out my phone.

After calling the pilot, I messaged Simon, letting him know about my plan. My fingers moved fast, driven by adrenaline and a growing sense that time was slipping through my hands.

Greg pulled into my parents’ driveway, and before the car had even come to a complete stop, I jumped out and ran toward thehouse. I pushed the door open and rushed inside, taking the stairs two at a time.

I entered my bedroom.

The folder was still there on the table, exactly where I had left it.

I grabbed it immediately and flipped it open.

Papers rustled as I searched through them until my eyes landed on the medical report.

It was Jiya’s report—from the day we had been rushed to the hospital after Jeremy shot us.

My mother must have paid a fortune to get that report from the hospital. I had scanned it earlier, but something inside me had insisted I look again, as if my instincts had been trying to warn me that I had missed something important.

I forced myself to slow down and read every line carefully.

Gunshot wound.

Blood loss.

Treatment details.