Chapter 1
On my phone screen, Adrian Barnett was slipping that million-dollar haute couture wedding dress onto Bella Ramirez.
In the frame, his eyes were so soft they could melt. His fingers gently smoothed her skirt, as if handling the most precious artwork in the world.
Yet three days earlier, he had proposed to me.
"Harper, this dress is called 'Aurora.' It belongs only to you," he had said then.
I stared at the screen, watching Bella turn to show off the dress and hearing the socialites' admiring whispers around her.
It was my size, tailored exactly to my measurements.
Bella, however, had a curvier figure.
Sure enough, as she puffed out her chest for the camera, a sharp ripping sound came from the back.
The zipper burst open. The delicate lace cracked like a spiderweb, exposing her back.
Flustered, Adrian took off the Armani suit jacket I had bought for him last month and clumsily wrapped it around her.
He faced the camera, his eyes red and voice trembling. "Bella, don't worry. A dress can be redesigned. You are the perfect artwork."
Adrian acted more convincingly than an Oscar winner.
My phone buzzed. Riley sent a voice message, laughing. "Harper, did you see that? The artist you've supported for seven years is now drooling over his first love like a lovesick fool."
I closed the livestream and replied to Riley without a trace of emotion: [I don't know him. Trash belongs in the trash can.]
Then I started packing.
Not my luggage—his.
*****
I had met Adrian seven years ago.
I had graduated from Fairfield University and gotten a job as a project manager at a tech company in Oakwood City.
Adrian was a senior from college and had that moody Brooklyn artist aura, always saying he was pushed out by the mainstream art scene.
I fell head over heels for him.
I bankrolled his painting habit, paid his rent, and even picked up his credit card tab.
Adrian said artists shouldn't be tied down by money, and I was more than happy to be that "philistine."
For seven years, I thought I was investing in the man who would be my husband.
Until that night, three days ago, he came home reeking of whiskey, hugged me tightly, and whispered in my ear, "Harper, let's get married. I'll take you to see the wedding dress tomorrow."
I cried. After seven years, my wait had finally come to an end.
That night, Adrian was unusually passionate. His usual coldness turned into urgent desire, until he gasped against my neck and murmured, "Bella... Bella..."
It felt like someone was crushing my heart.
It turned out that he had mistaken me for her.
Even during sex, he was calling another woman's name.
What could be more insulting than that?
I stayed awake until dawn, my whole body cold.
*****
The next day, Adrian was in high spirits and didn't notice my mood at all.
He washed up with the skincare products I had bought, dressed up nicely, and gave me a half-hearted kiss on the forehead before leaving.
Adrian said, "Don't come to the celebration party tonight. There will be too much press. Wait for me at home for the good news."
I watched him walk out the door.
He would settle down now that we were getting married, right? That wedding dress was really meant for me, right?
I comforted myself like that until Riley sent me those videos.