Chapter 1
My fiancé, Alex Pierce, announced in front of everyone that he was going to marry my younger sister, Yvonne Roper.
I smiled, stepped aside, and married Henry Landon, who had been after me for eight years.
He served me milk every night. He was so gentle that every woman in town was jealous, until I discovered there was something in the milk, and the wedding ring in the safe had Yvonne's name.
Henry thought I was a prey in his trap. It was so ridiculous. From the moment I married him, he was never the hunter.
*****
When Alex stood in the center of the ballroom, the chandelier's light hit his face, making him look so noble.
Over three hundred guests fell silent.
Everyone knew that tonight, the Pierce family's heir would announce his fiancée.
I stood at the front of the crowd, holding a glass of champagne.
Alex's gaze swept over me, lingering for a heartbeat.
Then his eyes moved past me, landing on someone behind.
"The woman I'm going to marry—" He paused, a confident smirk tugging at his lips. "She is Yvonne."
The whole room erupted into a clatter.
I could feel hundreds of eyes piercing me, sharp as needles.
Some people covered their mouths, while others giggled.
The lady next to me whispered to her friend, "Oh my god, didn't Tessa date Alex for two years? He dropped this bomb in front of everyone.
"Oh, her own sister snatched her man. How can she deal with such an embarrassing drama?"
Yvonne stepped out from behind me, head down, eyes red. It looked like she was surprised to be the center of attention.
As she passed, she gave my sleeve a gentle pull. "Tessa, I'm sorry. Alex and I truly love each other."
Her fingertips were cold. But I saw the smirk on her lips clear as day.
I looked into her teary eyes: charming, innocent, and pitiful. She'd gotten much better at this act than she was two years ago.
I laughed. It wasn't a bitter laugh, and I wasn't forcing myself to hold on. I honestly thought it was funny.
This was because a month ago, I'd seen that prenup draft in Alex's study.
Alex was Party A, and Yvonne was Party B.
The date was three months before today.
It meant that Alex and Yvonne had been plotting this for at least ninety days.
And during this period, he still sent me flowers every week, posted about our love story on Instagram, and told me that he was waiting for me to marry him.
Alex and Yvonne had been playing me for a fool for three whole months.
No. It was not only three months.
I lowered my eyes and gently placed my champagne glass on the waiter's tray.
When I looked up, my smile was flawless: decent, poised, without a hint of strain.
"Congratulations," I said. My voice was calm, even carrying a touch of warmth in a wish.
The whole room went quiet. The guests were waiting for me to break down, to cry, and to see the Roper family's heiress lose it in front of everyone.
It was too bad for them. I wasn't about to give them the drama they were hoping for.
I turned, heels clicking against the marble, walking away cool and collected.
Behind me, hushed murmurs rose. There was surprise, confusion, and a hint of disappointment.
After all, the drama never got its grand finale.
As I stepped out of the ballroom, the night wind swept in, carrying the cool bite of early autumn.
I stood on the steps, taking a deep breath.
My phone buzzed. It was a message from Henry: [I'm at the gate.]
I looked down at my phone, a faint smile curving at my lips.
A black Maybach was parked by the flower bed, the window rolled down enough to reveal a sharp profile.
Henry tilted his head to look at me, his eyes lazy, like a cheetah that'd been lying low for ages suddenly caught by a flash of light.
"Did you cry?" he asked.
"No," I replied.
"Then get in."
I pulled the car door open and got in. His faint cedar scent filled the air inside.
Henry didn't start the car right away. He turned to me and then gently wiped the corner of my eye with his thumb.
"You really didn't cry." He pulled his hand back, and there was some vague amusement in his voice. "Tessa, you're tougher than I imagined."
I buckled my seatbelt, eyes locked on the grand doors of the ballroom. "Henry, does your last proposal still stand?"
He paused for a moment.
Through the rear-view mirror, I caught the sudden flicker in his eyes.
After a beat of silence, he started the engine, his voice low. "I've been holding onto that for eight years."
"Then I'll marry you," I said.
As the car drove through the iron gates of Pierce Manor, I didn't look back.
In the rear-view mirror, the glittering lights blurred into a tiny dot.
That world had nothing to do with me anymore. Or rather, it didn't, not for the time being.