Chapter 4
The night before the party, Grant played the role of the devoted husband flawlessly.
He had personally picked out my gown. It was a stunning, deep emerald silk that clung to my curves.
I looked in the mirror. He stood behind me and zipped it up. His hands lingered on my bare shoulders.
"Tomorrow night," he whispered. "This is the beginning of our next fifteen years together."
I stared at his reflection in the mirror. I felt nothing but a glacial chill.
He tried hard to maintain this illusion of true love. But the harder he tried, the more I realized something. Our entire marriage was just a masterfully packaged fraud.
But I didn't expose him. Not yet.
He wanted to play the perfect husband on a grand stage. I would give him the spotlight.
I wanted to see how long he could keep acting. I wanted to see what happened when the lights finally burned him.
The anniversary gala was suffocatingly opulent.
A massive LED screen dominated the center of the ballroom. It played a continuous loop of photos from the last fifteen years.
There were pictures of our youthful beginning. There were photos of the grueling early days of his startup. There were images of our current life as polished socialites.
Guests clinked champagne flutes. Their praises floated through the air.
"You two are the happiest couple I know," one investor gushed.
"Fifteen years, and he still looks at you like a teenager in love."
My stomach violently churned.
The sickest joke of all was the slideshow itself. It included photos from the last three years.
That meant Grant had smiled in these very photos. He celebrated these very milestones with me. All while he was legally married to Paige Sutton.
The time for speeches arrived. Grant gripped my waist. He guided me up the grand staircase to the stage. Three hundred guests watched us under their watchful eyes.
He took the microphone. He turned to look at me. His gaze was so agonizingly tender it could have fooled God himself.
"Mara is not just my wife," Grant announced. "She is the impenetrable fortress behind my success."
"For fifteen years, she has been my rock. She is the only woman I have ever truly loved."
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause.
Grant lowered the microphone. He leaned in to seal his grand performance with a kiss.
Half a second before his lips touched mine, I turned my head away.
His lips grazed the cold air. They landed awkwardly near my ear.
An audible gasp rippled through the front row.
Grant froze. The perfect, charming smile on his face cracked.
He lowered his voice. His tone was laced with furious warning.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed. "Stop acting crazy."
I didn't blink. I stared straight into his eyes.
These were the eyes that had once made me feel so safe. Now, they only reflected my own icy resolve.
"Do you really not know why I'm doing this, Grant?"
The color drained from his face. His knuckles turned white around the microphone.
I hadn't even shown my hand yet. But that single rejection was enough. That single question made his house of cards tremble.
He forced a stiff smile. He tried to drag me off the stage for a "private chat."
But he couldn't take a single step. A deafening crash echoed through the room.
BANG.
The heavy, solid oak doors of the ballroom were shoved violently open. The entire crowd turned. The room plunged into dead silence.
A figure stood in the doorway. She was bathed in the hallway light. It was Paige Sutton.
She wore a blinding silver evening gown. She looked like an avenging angel.
But the dress didn't draw everyone's attention. It was the massive, glittering wedding band on her left hand.
Grant looked like all the blood had been siphoned from his body.
I could see the gears breaking in his head. He had no idea why she was here. He had absolutely no idea how to spin this.
Paige ignored the whispers. She ignored the confused stares.
She walked right up to the front of the stage. She stopped directly in front of my pale, terrified husband.
A cruel, twisted smirk played on her lips. She looked up at him.
"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart."