Chapter 1

The day I tried on my wedding gown, my fiancé Andrew Pierce waved away the dress the attendant held out. "No need."

I turned, stunned. "What do you mean?"

Andrew stubbed out his cigarette, smiling faintly.

"I won't be at the wedding. You're welcome to try it on, if you like."

The absurdity of it all hit me, and I choked out, "You're the groom, but you won't be attending? Andrew, you've jilted me seven times. What's the excuse this time?"

He hummed, indifferent. "I've been seeing someone lately. She's quite different.

"There'll be too much media at the wedding. If she finds out I'm getting married, she'll be heartbroken.

"A wedding can work without a groom. We got by at the engagement party, didn't we? If not, there's always next time. Right?"

I stood frozen. He strode off, completely oblivious.

The attendants looked at each other, confused. I took a deep breath and rattled off a string of measurements. "Make the suit to these sizes."

A wedding without a groom wouldn't do.

So I'd have to get myself a new groom.

*****

My phone was blowing up with nonstop texts from that girl's boyfriend.

First, he was begging me to convince Andrew to leave them alone.

Then he started cussing me out, saying I couldn't hold onto my own man, calling me a bitch, and telling me to go die.

I didn't reply to a single one.

I did try to talk Andrew out of it.

I kept pushing for the wedding, and at first, Andrew laughed it off. But later, he'd look at me with an annoyed look in his eyes and ask, "Emily Sinclair, are you really that desperate to get married?"

His face overlapped with the memory of that seventeen-year-old boy, cheeks flushed as he said, "Emily, when we grow up, I'm going to marry you."

I couldn't help but feel dazed. Was the man in front of me really the same Andrew from when we were seventeen?

We were the most well-known childhood friends in Harbor City. My parents would always laugh and tease me, "Emily, Andrew has really spoiled you rotten."

I loved fancy clothes and jewelry, but though Andrew grew up as the heir to the richest family in Harbor City, he was always broke. Sometimes he couldn't afford a meal.

If anyone asked about it, he'd grin and shrug. "A couple days ago, I blew all my money buying Emily an antique ring."

Word was, last night, Andrew bid on something at the auction, all because that girl stopped in front of a display for a couple seconds.

As I stepped out of the bridal shop, I spotted a Maybach parked at the entrance, swaying ever so slightly. The soundproofing was top-notch; I couldn't hear a thing from outside.

But as I got closer, I could still make out some intimate noises coming from inside.

The girl was crying, pleading with him to be gentle.

Andrew gave a low laugh. "Did he text you? Read it to me."

"I-I promise I'll do my best to give you a good life," she stammered.

Her voice trembled with embarrassment. "Please... don't leave me."

Funny how things turned out.

Andrew used to say that to me, too.

I wasn't one of those women with razor-sharp intuition.

When our relationship was rotting beneath the surface, I still foolishly believed I was soaking in sweetness.

Andrew wasn't like those guys who try to cover up their cheating. He'd call me, his voice ragged and shameless. "Emily, I'm in the middle of—"

At that moment, I was bragging to my friends about the big boxes of fun stuff he'd sent me from Capital City.

For years, wherever he traveled for work, if he spotted anything interesting, he'd always grab it for me.

Thinking the call had cut out, I naively asked, "What are you doing? I can't hear you, Andrew."

After a brief pause, I heard the faint sound of clothes rustling, Andrew's low sigh, and a woman's flirty laugh. "We're having sex, idiot."

It was summer in Harbor City, but all I felt inside was a cold emptiness.

I caught a red-eye flight that night, and my tears wouldn't stop.

Andrew opened the door, still groggy and shirtless, those suggestive red marks on his abs glaring right at me.

He gently ran his hand over my swollen eyes, offering neither explanation nor apology. He asked, "Do you want to break up, Emily?"

My mind was buzzing, and I kept asking him, again and again, "Why?"

Andrew looked at me, his eyes dark and complicated. "Because you're too clueless. I can't keep lying to you anymore."

That was the first time I ever hit him.

When my hand struck Andrew's face, my heart felt hollow for a moment.

Before the anger could take hold, what hit me first was the ache of caring for him.

I was the one who could never bear to see him hurt.

When I was eighteen, the brakes failed, and we got caught in a pileup. Andrew shielded me with his body.

His hand was pierced straight through by the windshield, blood splattering all over me.

But Andrew fought back the pain, gently patted my hair, and finally breathed a sigh of relief. "As long as you're okay, Emily, that's all that matters. Don't cry."

The scar was so deep, it still ran across Andrew's hand, a constant reminder of how much he once loved me.

Back then, he was the one who couldn't stand to see me in pain.

Andrew brushed his cheek where I'd slapped him, checked his Patek Philippe, and looked completely unfazed.

"Pick up the phone, Emily," Andrew said.

On the other end was my dad's exhausted voice.

The company was neck-deep in debt, and bankruptcy was right around the corner. At the end, Dad asked carefully, "Emily, could you talk to Andrew and see if we can bring the wedding forward?"

I felt like I'd been hit by a truck, staring at Andrew, so confident, so in control, as he casually lit a cigarette.

With smoke swirling around, Andrew reached over and gently squeezed my cheek. "Doesn't matter if you want to break up. You're not leaving me, Emily."

Calm returned at last. The bodyguard opened the passenger door for me.

In the back seat, Rachel Summers's face was flushed, her pupils flickering violently when she saw me.

"M-Ms. Sinclair? Y-you're here too," she stammered.

The white dress she had on looked so familiar. It was the very same one Andrew once gave me.

Meeting my gaze, Andrew shrugged, totally unfazed. "Her dress got torn this morning, so she put yours on. You don't mind, do you?"

Rachel's dress, earrings, and necklace were all taken straight from my wardrobe, so was every single thing she wore.

Like the man beside her, he was stolen from me, too.