Part 3Planning Dream Weddings to Fund My Funeral

Beatrice's POV

Lucas sat across from me with his arm around Selene in the conference room. His expression was cold and grim as he stared at me silently.

I sat down, opened the proposal, and walked through it page by page, from the lighting to the agenda to the music to the decorations.

When I reached the table arrangements, I pointed at the design rendering and explained, "For the centerpiece, I chose gardenias with eucalyptus leaves to create a clean and refreshing look."

The moment my words fell, Lucas' fingers twitched. I pretended not to notice and lowered my gaze, continuing my presentation.

Gardenias were Lucas' favorite flower. In my previous life, a massive bouquet of gardenias sat at the center of every table at our wedding.

"I want gardenias at every major milestone of my life," he'd told me. So I'd instinctively included them in my proposal.

Selene suddenly slammed her fist against the table. "Gardenias? Who uses such a cheap and unsophisticated flower? Do you have any taste at all?"

Pointing at me, she shrieked, "Or are you doing this on purpose, so Lucas and I don't get our dream wedding?"

Swallowing the metallic tang of blood rising in my throat, I tried to explain, "Of course not, Ms. Cross!"

However, she didn't give me a chance to explain myself. She grabbed the thick proposal document from the table and hurled it at me. The hard cover struck my temple. Everything went dark, and my body tumbled backward.

Right before I lost consciousness, I noticed the cold, indifferent expression on Lucas's face crack.

…

When I came to, the first thing that came into view was a stark white ceiling and the familiar smell of disinfectant. I peeled my eyes open and found Lucas looming over me.

The moment he realized I was awake, his furious voice boomed. "Beatrice, you're still as despicable as ever. Are you trying to stage an accident and extort me right before my wedding? You disgust me!"

Without saying a word, I forced myself up, catching a faint hint of his crisp, woody cologne. Thank goodness. It wasn't the stench that clung to him in my previous life—a stale mix of sweat and harsh hospital disinfectant.

I closed my eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Mr. Wright, considering your fiancée injured me, rather than insulting me, you'd better figure out how much compensation you're going to give me."

Lucas slammed the door shut as he stormed out. Three minutes later, 15 grand had been deposited into my account.

…

It started to rain when I was on my way home. I lived in a partitioned room of an old apartment building in the old district.

The lights in the hallway had been out for ages. I felt my way up the stairs, running my hand along the wall. Then, I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

After taking a short breather, I walked over to my bed and lifted the wooden frame. Underneath it sat an old-fashioned, rusted safe. It took me three attempts with the combination to finally get it unlocked.

There was nothing but a debit card inside. It was the ten grand Lucas had given me as our wedding gift.

Seven years had passed since. In all these seven years, it never even crossed my mind to spend his money.

When I first moved into a rental and couldn't afford the security deposit, I didn't touch it. When the insurance reimbursement for my targeted medication after chemotherapy fell short, I still didn't touch it.

There was even a time when I had to call an ambulance in the middle of the night, and I was 800 dollars short on the deposit. I stood outside the emergency room for 40 minutes, yet I still refused to touch his money.

I was terrified that if I died unexpectedly one day, I wouldn't have been able to replace the funds.

Clutching the debit card, I turned it over and over again to look at it. Fortunately, I would be able to return it to him soon.

Just then, my phone rang. The caller ID read Lucas. So, I answered it.

"Come to my bachelor party tonight."

I went rigid for a moment. "There's no reason for me to go, is there?"

"You're responsible for overseeing the entire wedding plan!" he snapped. "The party is part of the plan too. If you don't show up, you won't get a single cent of the final payment!"

I chuckled dryly. "Fine."

After hanging up, I collapsed onto the bed, drained of all strength. That was when I noticed the water stain on the ceiling.

It had appeared last month. Now, it had expanded into a huge, dark blotch, resembling a gray flower.

I wasn't sure if there would be real flowers at my grave. Oh well, it didn't matter.

…

The party was held at an exclusive private club. When I walked in, the lighting was so dim that I could barely see where I was going.