Chapter 3: Secrets, Sickness, and Guilt
But he didn’t know that it wasn’t just Mrs. Carter who was sick—I was, too.
Three years ago, right after my sweet sixteen, my dad told me about the engagement with Mason. That night, I started having heart palpitations and coughed up blood. Dad panicked, called every specialist he could find. The doctor said my illness was rare and severe—only a special mountain flower from Colorado could save me.
Dad went to the Rockies himself to find one, but he fell from a cliff and died. Just like that. I was an unmarried girl with a deadly illness, and my dad died trying to save me. If word got out, my reputation would be toast. No one would let their son near me.
The estate manager and a few loyal staff who traveled with my dad kept the truth secret, telling everyone else he’d been killed in a carjacking. Even when Mrs. Carter came to check on me, the manager made sure she never found out the real story.
For three years, I mourned my dad and basically never left the house. Mason, always the gentleman, barely visited. Miraculously, my health started to improve, and for a while, I thought maybe the worst was over.
But after seeing him today, I coughed up blood again that night. The text above my head kept cursing me as a jinx, and suddenly, I was wide awake, heart pounding. Was this real? Or just some cosmic joke?
The words felt like a curse, coiling around my heart. I sat in my room, staring at the moonlight on the floor, wondering if fate really was out to get me—or if I’d just let everyone down, one after another. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was clutch my chest and hope I made it through the night.
Maybe my illness really was tied to Mason. Why else would my heart race and my lungs fail every time someone mentioned our marriage? And my dad—if he hadn’t gone to save me, he’d still be alive. The guilt was suffocating. I pressed my palm to my chest, feeling the frantic flutter of my heart, and wondered if I’d ever breathe easy again. Maybe I was the jinx after all.
Now I was alone in the world, and if I really did die soon after marrying Mason—just like the text said—wouldn’t all my family’s money end up with the Carters? Mason could just marry someone else, and together they’d use my inheritance to start over. Even dead, I’d be stuck watching them from the sidelines. No thanks.
I decided to take Mason’s name to church the next day and ask the pastor to say a prayer for him—just in case I was blaming him unfairly. What could it hurt? Maybe I’d get some peace of mind, or maybe I’d just feel silly. Either way, I had to try.
It was the kind of thing my father would have done—just to be sure. I figured a little extra insurance never hurt, even if I didn’t believe in curses. The church was quiet at dawn, the pews washed in pale light. For a second, I almost felt hopeful. Then reality crashed back in.













