Chapter 1

The day before my wedding to my childhood betrothed, I hid in the bridal suite, eager to surprise him. Instead, I was the one blindsided by the bombshell of his secret marriage.

'Three days ago, I tied the knot with Birdie Garcia at the courthouse,' Eli announced, puffing out his chest like a peacock.

His buddies applauded his boldness. 'Eli, you sly dog, making moves without telling anyone. Why bother with this big wedding? Does Arabella know?'

Eli adjusted his Rolex with a smirk that could cut glass. 'Even if she knows, so what? She was practically begging for this wedding anyway.'

'I’ve made a deal with Birdie. Arabella can have the public title of wife, but at home, she’ll be our maid, waiting on us hand and foot,' he said with a self-satisfied grin. 'You can’t have it all, right?'

Standing outside the room, my hands trembled as I clutched the flute of sparkling water. So this was why Eli had rushed the wedding date.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I tuned out their revolting chatter and dialed a familiar number: 'Sincere, I’m calling off the wedding.'

...

'Arabella, what the hell are you doing here?!' Eli’s face registered shock when the door swung open, quickly replaced by irritation. But when I pulled off my headphones, his annoyance flared up again.

'Didn’t I tell you we shouldn’t see each other before the wedding? Why can’t you follow simple instructions?'

Eli carelessly shrugged off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor. The cigarette dangling from his fingers stayed lit as he plopped down beside me, blowing smoke directly into my face.

Watching me cough violently, Eli’s lips twisted into a smug grin. 'You’re way more entertaining like this.'

Between hacking coughs, I felt a surge of helplessness. The man I’d loved for years was unraveling before my eyes—this was the bitter truth.

'Go make me a coffee,' Eli commanded, lounging on the bed and gesturing lazily toward the kitchen.

For the first time, I refused. Instead, I yanked open the curtains, letting a gust of cool air flood the room. 'I’m not your maid. If you want something, get it yourself.'

Eli’s face darkened, but his scowl softened when he spotted the glass of sparkling water I’d set aside earlier, a smirk creeping back. 'What’s with the attitude? Playing hard to get now?'

The sound of shattering glass cut through his taunt, the dark liquid splattering across his designer suit. Eli’s eyes narrowed in fury. 'Arabella, have I been spoiling you too much lately? Do you think marrying me gives you free rein?'

'Do you really think even if we get married, I won’t divorce you?'

Meeting Eli’s scornful glare, I replied calmly, 'I believe you.'

My uncharacteristic defiance threw him off guard. I’d never stood up to him like this before. In the past, even the slightest hint of a threat would send me scrambling to apologize, regardless of who was at fault.

I thought I knew him, treating him like a perpetual teenager, always indulging his whims. Sometimes I wondered if I’d pushed too hard, making Eli treat me with such contempt.

But now, none of it mattered anymore.

I kicked aside the jacket Eli had tossed at my feet as a text notification reminded me to finalize the wedding details. Jadiel, surprisingly accommodating, deserved my thanks.

After all, my family had initially intended for me to marry Jadiel, but my own foolishness had led me to Eli.

As I turned to leave, Eli grabbed my wrist, rubbing his tired eyes. 'I know I’ve been distant lately, but there’s no need to blow up over words.'

'We have a wedding tomorrow. Go home and get some rest, okay?'

I shook off his hand without a word. Just then, a familiar figure appeared at the door.

Birdie, clad in the wedding dress I’d reserved just days ago, looked slightly uncomfortable seeing me there. Yet her perfectly made-up face radiated confidence as she staked her claim.

I spun around in disbelief, glaring at Eli, who showed no remorse. 'Tomorrow morning, Birdie will be the bride.'

...

I couldn’t believe Eli would stoop so low. Even if he didn’t love me, he shouldn’t humiliate my family like this. As his supposed fiancée, he’d allowed others to mock me, turning me into a laughingstock.

I stared at Eli’s indifferent face with a mix of disappointment and disgust. 'Eli, you’ve lost your mind.'

Knowing he was in the wrong, Eli awkwardly scratched his nose, trying to justify himself. 'Arabella, Birdie came to Brighton to be with me all these years. You know that. She just wants her parents to feel at ease, so she asked me to have the ceremony with her. It’s just one wedding—don’t overthink it. Just make sure your family doesn’t show up in the morning, okay?'

I let out a cold laugh. Of course, he was asking for a favor—that’s why Eli was being unusually pleasant.

I opened my mouth but decided against spilling the bitterness in my heart. None of it mattered anymore.

Maybe my calm demeanor unnerved him, because Eli pursed his lips and promised, 'Don’t worry. I’ll behave at the evening reception.'

In the past, this would’ve been enough to make me swallow my pride and return to his side with a smile. But now, I simply gave him a blank stare.

Eli didn’t get it. Just as he reached out to pull me closer for more explanations, Birdie flung herself into his arms. Her eyes were slightly red, her voice trembling as she sobbed into his chest, 'I’m sorry, Eli, for causing trouble. My family wanted to see our home, so I might have to stay here tonight, and...'

At that point, Birdie peeked up at me from Eli’s shoulder, her eyes daring me to challenge her. 'I’m afraid you’ll have to pack up your things, Arabella.'

The defiance in her eyes almost made me laugh. They were already legally married, yet they kept up this charade in front of me. The gown was on, and they called it a pretense?

Clearly, they intended to play house tonight. But that was fine. I didn’t want to leave a single trace of myself behind.

'Arabella, please...' Eli started, but I cut him off with a dismissive wave. 'Burn it all. I don’t care.'

Without looking back, I walked out. As I left, Eli felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest, a nagging sense that something was slipping beyond his control.