Chapter 1

My fiancé and I are at the County Clerk's office to sign our marriage license — and he rips the application out of my hands and shoves my best friend up to the counter in my place.

"Chloe goes first. She's pregnant — the baby needs his father's name on the birth certificate. A Sinclair heir doesn't come into this world without that."

"Besides, you two are best friends, right? What difference does it make who I marry?"

Chloe leans into his chest, blushing. He hands the clerk a new application — her name already printed where mine should be. They show their IDs. They sign. The clerk processes it without blinking.

Done. Just like that.

Nate finally remembers I exist. Reaches over and ruffles my hair like I'm a dog that behaved well.

"Relax. You're still Mrs. Sinclair to everyone who matters. Once she has the baby, we'll tell people it's yours. Saves you the trouble of getting pregnant yourself."

"I'd never embarrass you in front of people. You know that."

He thinks I'll crumble like I always do. Cry. Beg him not to leave.

But I just smile, turn around, and grab his older brother by the arm.

"Hayden. Our turn."

I slap my ID down on the counter. "You two are brothers, right? Same last name. So what's the difference who I marry?"

The entire office goes dead silent.

"Wren, have you lost your fucking mind?"

Nate's laughing so hard his eyes are watering.

"Do you even know who he is? That's Hayden. My brother. You think he'd actually marry you?"

Chloe peeks out from his chest, voice dripping with fake concern. "Wren, sweetie, I know you're hurting, but don't throw yourself at someone like that. Hayden is the Sinclair heir. You're embarrassing yourself."

People in the waiting area start whispering. Someone mutters — "Couldn't lock down the little brother so she's going after the big one. The Carter girl has no shame."

I tune all of it out. I look at Hayden.

His eyes are so dark I can't see the bottom.

Three years ago, the first time I went to the Sinclair house, I crashed into him in the hallway. I looked up, flustered, and the way he looked at me — it wasn't innocent. But his lashes dropped and it was gone.

After that, Hayden helped me a few times without being asked. Once I blacked out drinking alone at a bar and woke up in his guest room. When I was drowning in a deal that wouldn't close, he stepped in and handled it. Quietly. Never said a word.

I force it out. "Would you?"

"I hold eighty percent of Carter Industries. Plus every joint venture between our families. Marry me, and it's all yours."

Nate's voice goes tight. "Hayden — don't. She's lost it."

Hayden looks away from me. "Too rushed."

Then he turns and walks out. Doesn't look back. Leaves me standing there like an idiot.

Nate strides over and ruffles my hair again — rough this time, like he's handling a misbehaving pet.

"That was a polite rejection, babe. You really thought he'd want you?"

"Wren, you've been my pathetic little simp for years. Everyone in this city knows you can't function without me."

His words crack something open.

I think about right after college. He told me — behind his family's back — he wanted to start a company. I sold my condo on Park Avenue. Wired him every penny. No contract. No equity stake. No IOU. Just blind, stupid love.

He took that money and built himself a name.

When his Series B fell apart and the key investor wouldn't sign, I set up a dinner under the Carter Industries name. Drank until I was vomiting blood in the bathroom. The guy finally came around.

The night Nate closed the round, he'd had a few drinks. He pinned me against the wall and kissed me until my mouth went numb. His chin dug into my shoulder, voice low and ragged — "Wren, why are you so good to me?"

I was just grateful I could help.

Everyone knew. People in our circle smiled to my face — Wren Carter, so loyal, so devoted — then called me a fool the second I turned around.

My mom screamed at me about it a hundred times. Cried and said, "Your father's reputation — everything he's built — you're dragging it through the mud."

I told her love wasn't something to be ashamed of.

But hearing him call me his simp — I realize I've been the punchline this whole time.

Nate watches my face crumble. He sighs, almost fond, like he can see every pathetic memory flickering behind my eyes. His thumb brushes my cheek.

That's when I realize I'm crying.

"Don't cry. People are gonna think I'm some kind of monster."

He exhales. Those pretty-boy eyes go almost sincere.

"Wren, you've been so good to me. I genuinely don't want to hurt you."

"So be smart about this. I don't want to embarrass you, and I don't want your parents to lose face. You get what I'm saying, right?"

Nate is like cheap whiskey. The first sip burns so bad you cry. But you keep drinking, and you keep drinking, until you're so wasted you don't even know you're dying.

He pulls out a wedding band and presses it into my palm. Then a printed photo — me and him, photoshopped in wedding attire. Names, date, a fake official seal in the corner. It looks almost real.

"Show this to your parents. Tell them we eloped. Clean. Simple. No drama."