The smell of rubber and hot metal hit her immediately. Her dress caught on the edge. A moment later, Daniel shut the trunk, and the world disappeared in a hard metallic click.
Darkness.
The first thing she felt was humiliation.
The second was fear.
A woman like Savannah Whitmore had never hidden from anyone in her life. She was the only daughter of a powerful real estate developer in South Carolina, heir to properties, investments, and family holdings that people in Charleston mentioned in lowered voices. She had been raised in elegance, discipline, and expectation. Even after her parents died, her grandmother taught her never to bend, never to beg, and never to let the world see her crawl.
And now, on the day she was supposed to become a wife, she was curled in the trunk of her own wedding car, trying not to cry in the dark.
Then she heard footsteps.
A man’s voice came from outside, smooth, easy, confident.
Trent.
Her fiancé.
“Daniel, good. Car’s ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
Trent laughed under his breath. “Beautiful day for it. Beautiful day to get rich. I mean… married.”
Savannah went still.