Chapter 1

I was meticulously planning a wedding for a high-profile client.

Then I turned the corner and saw her kissing my boyfriend, Ethan, in the stairwell.

Ethan let out a low chuckle. "You're stunning, Claire. That's my beautiful wife."

Claire laughed softly. "Your little girlfriend still thinks she's planning my wedding. She has no idea we're already legally married. What, are you really never going to tell her?"

My boyfriend tilted her chin up. "Didn't we have a deal? We got the marriage license, we stay out of each other's private lives. Vivian is the love of my life. Keep your mouth shut."

She scoffed, tugging at his tie. "Relax, husband. Keep me happy, and I won't touch the other woman."

Listening to them, it felt like the ground had dropped out from under me.

The happiness I thought I had was a lie. I was the other woman in someone else's marriage.

A cold numbness washed over me. I pulled out my phone and texted my mentor.

"Dr. Brooks, I'll take the Seattle fellowship."

A moment later, my mentor replied:

"We leave in three days."

My phone buzzed in my hand.

I looked down, but Claire Whitmore's sugary, mocking voice drifted over to me again.

"Alright, enough kissing. If your little girlfriend catches us, you're dead."

"By the way, she still doesn't know you gave me her wedding design. I told her I wanted that exact style, and she actually bought it. It's almost pathetically naive."

All the blood drained from my face.

I had been with Ethan Mercer for five solid years.

Everyone in his social circle knew me.

They all knew I didn't care about money or status; I only ever wanted Ethan's business to succeed.

He had promised me a future. He had promised me a grand wedding.

Like an absolute fool, I had drafted version after version of our wedding design until I finally had the perfect blueprint.

Then, a few weeks ago, my sketches vanished.

I tore the apartment apart looking for them.

Ethan had held me, his face a mask of perfect guilt. "I might have accidentally thrown them out with the trash. I'm so sorry, Vivian."

That was the design I had stayed up countless nights to perfect.

Losing it broke my heart, but I still swallowed my disappointment to comfort him. "It's okay. I'll just make a new version."

Now the ugly truth was staring me in the face.

My sketches hadn't gone into the trash.

He had handed them straight to his new bride.

I couldn't listen to another word. I turned and slipped into the restroom.

My phone chimed again. A text from Claire.

"Ms. Hart, where'd you run off to? My husband just stopped by."

"Really wish I could've introduced you two."

I stared at my red-rimmed eyes in the mirror, splashed freezing water on my face, and forced myself to walk back out.

Claire was humming to herself. When she saw me, her eyes locked onto mine, heavy with implication.

"Ms. Hart, what took you so long? Did you happen to run into my husband? He's quite handsome, isn't he?"

Meeting her gaze, it suddenly clicked.

She had orchestrated this. She wanted me to see them, hoping to humiliate me into backing off.

But Ethan and I had been a public couple for five years.

Even if we didn't have a ring, I wasn't going to let anyone brand me as the other woman.

I shoved every ounce of devastation down into my chest and offered her a flawless, professional smile. "The planning phase of your wedding is complete. I won't be involved in the execution moving forward. As for your husband, you two deserve each other. I wish you both the best."

I turned on my heel and walked away.

Claire's voice chased after me, dripping with triumph.

"I married him three months after we met. That's how you seal the deal. I am Mrs. Mercer now. Keep clinging to my husband, and don't blame me when things get ugly."

I didn't miss a step. I kept my head high all the way home.

I found out later they had legally married at City Hall weeks ago.

Tomorrow's wedding was nothing but a theatrical show for their guests.

Ethan beat me home.

He was lounging on the couch. The second I walked in, his face lit up, and he opened his arms.

"Hey, babe. You're home."

I instinctively dodged his embrace. He froze, a flash of surprise crossing his features.

My eyes dropped to his neck.

He wasn't wearing the tie I had stayed up late working to save up for and buy him.

"You changed your tie."

The confusion in Ethan's eyes instantly morphed into panic. He forced a smile and explained nonchalantly:

"Spilled coffee on it. Had my assistant grab a spare. I'll get it dry-cleaned, promise. I'll wear it every day, you gave it to me."

Was it coffee, or was he afraid I'd smell Claire's perfume on it?

The disgust I had barely managed to suppress clawed its way back up my throat.

But reminding myself I was leaving in three days made the argument feel entirely pointless.

I swallowed the urge to expose him.

"Whatever."

Ethan looked at me, his eyes softening into that practiced, gentle gaze he had perfected over five years.

"Sweetheart, you look a little upset today. Who pissed you off? Tell me, I'll handle them. Or if you're just stressed, let me take you out for a nice dinner. It'll make you feel better."

Five years. He knew me, and I knew him.

Whenever something was on my mind, he always noticed immediately and coaxed it out of me with that velvet voice.

I used to fall for it every time, letting him smooth over my anxieties until I willingly curled up in his arms.

Now, I felt absolutely nothing.

Before I could figure out how to respond, his phone lit up.

We were standing too close.

The caller ID flashed brightly: My Wife.

Those words felt like a physical blow.

Ethan answered it, then immediately put on an apologetic face.

"Vivian, emergency board meeting about the Whitmore Group merger. Wait for me here. I'll bring back your favorite cake."

He didn't wait for my answer before rushing out the door.

I let out a dry, hollow laugh and started packing up my life.

Looking at the pile of belongings that wouldn't fit into three suitcases, I wanted to laugh, but my tears beat me to it.

Over the last five years, whenever I was sad, Ethan always found a way to make it right.

From late-night takeout to expensive jewelry, it had all piled up into a mountain of memories I couldn't even count.

In the five years we dated, everyone thought he loved me to his very core.

I had believed it, too.

When did it rot?

Was it when the clothes I bought him, the mugs I made him, and the watches I picked out slowly vanished from his rotation?

Was it when Claire showed up, and he started lying about overtime, meetings, and business trips, just to be by her side?

Or was it when he looked me in the eye, promised me a grand wedding, and then turned around to kiss Claire, give her that wedding, marry her at City Hall, and turn me into his dirty little secret?

I wanted to scream at him.

On the walk home, I had a thousand questions burning on my tongue.

But in the end, I swallowed every single one.

There was no point anymore.

I dialed my assistant, Ellie Parker.

"Ellie, I'm heading to Seattle in three days. There's one last detail to add to Claire's wedding."

"Arrange for a bouquet to be delivered on the day of. The card should read: Wishing Mr. Ethan Mercer and Mrs. Claire Whitmore a long and happy life together. Sign it with my name."

"Don't confirm it with them beforehand. Let's just call it a surprise gift from their wedding planner."