Chapter 3

Rowan scoffed. "Please. You've been obsessed with marrying me since we were kids. Girls love playing hard to get."

We grew up side by side—family friends forever. I crushed hard, always joking I'd be his bride someday.

Then the maid brought Lydia home, and Rowan turned into her personal bodyguard. Treated her better than me.

I ignored it until he ditched our engagement party to marry her. That was when it hit: she'd been his number one all along.

I was not a kid anymore. No games—I really don't want him.

Today was Valentine's Day. Rowan used to bring me one rose every year. This time? Zilch.

I'd just clocked out when the office gossip hit my ears.

"Miss Dune chased Mr. Hale for years, and he still dumped her—at the engagement party, in front of everybody. Talk about thick-skinned."

"Lost to the maid's kid. Ouch."

"Yeah, and today he sent her 1,000 roses. Ms. Dune only ever got a sad little handful."

I checked my phone—yep, Lydia flexing Rowan's roses all over her story.

I powered off and headed out, only to bump into Rowan and Lydia joyriding.

Lydia spotted me, all sugar. "Elara, no flowers today?"

She eyed me, then yanked one rose from the giant bouquet in the car. "Here, if you want. Rowan got me tons—I'm drowning in them."

I shook my head. "I'm good."

Rowan grabbed it and shoved it at me. "Take it. From me."

Theo popped up outta nowhere, smacked the rose away, and glared. "That trash isn't worthy of her."

Rowan bristled, but Theo whipped out a massive bouquet—my fave Freud roses. Centerpiece? Twenty-nine gold ones sparkling with gems.

He handed them over. I took 'em, grinning, and tousled his hair. "Good boy."

Theo went beet red.

"Every rose in the city's blooming for you." He jerked his chin down the street—the whole block was a sea of red.

Warmth hit my chest. "Thanks."

Rowan's face twisted. He rolled his eyes, muttered something snide, and peeled out with Lydia.

Wedding day rolled around quick. Theo sent a custom couture gown, then a diamond tiara.

Gifts kept piling up. I got nervous and texted: [Didn't your family go bust? You don't need to blow cash on me.]

He fired back: [Your hubby's stacked, babe. Sit tight—I'm coming.]

On my wedding day, the house was buzzing with family and friends hurrying about, while maids fussed over my hair and makeup. Felt like a dream—I was really doing this.

I skipped all those traditional wedding obstacles for Theo. I just wanted his path to be covered in flowers, wishing for nothing but a smooth and beautiful start for us.

Knock knock. Door swings open—Rowan, clutching a sad plastic bouquet. He scowled at my dress.

"Elara, swap that out. I'll get a rental. This fancy stuff'll make Lydia feel crappy," he said, acting all high and mighty. "And lose the crown. Your family's loaded, hers isn't—she'll feel like trash."

Lydia again. Always Lydia.

"Rowan, what the actual hell? You married her. Now you want me too? Think I'm cool being your side piece?" I said, rolling my eyes at him.

He huffed. "I told you—once things cool off, I dump Lydia. I promised you a wedding, and I'm here. Quit whining.

"Change. Now. We're running late."

He nodded at his goons—they lunged to strip me. I shoved them back, livid. "Rowan, I said no. Why are you even here?"