Karl flinched. “I know that was hard.”

“Hard?” My voice rose. “I watched them carry you out while I was still in my wedding dress.”

A man two rows ahead turned to stare.

Karl lowered his voice again. “I said I’m sorry. I knew you’d understand once I explained. I did this for us… You can see that, can’t you?”

That hit harder than anything else.

“No. You did it for the money, Karl.”

“That’s not fair.” He leaned closer, irritation creeping in. “You have no idea what kind of opportunity this is. I didn’t want to burden you with the decision, babe.”

“Burden me? No… you just didn’t want me to say no.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Watching him struggle to understand why I wasn’t jumping at the chance made something inside me settle into place.

I reached into my handbag, found my phone by touch, and turned the screen on. I didn’t take it out—I just left the bag open on my lap, microphone facing up.

“How did you do it?” I asked. “The whole thing. The paramedics, the doctor…”

He hesitated. Then muttered, “Daniel helped. The paramedics were actors. They thought it was for some kind of filmed event. And the doctor owed him a favor.”

By then, people around us were openly listening. An older woman across the aisle leaned forward.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I don’t mean to interfere, but did this man pretend to die at his own wedding?”

Karl’s face darkened. “This is private.”

“It stopped being private when you started confessing on public transportation,” she said.