Chapter 3

When the ring is on my finger and the paperwork is filed, I post a photo on Instagram — my left hand resting on Hayden's chest, the diamond catching the light.

Nate likes it instantly.

He probably didn't even look at it. He never does. He's never once paid real attention to anything I post.

Chloe's message arrives first.

"Nate told me you posted something. Sweetie, you're not actually showing off that fake photo he made for you, are you? Delete it before someone notices — so embarrassing!!"

Half an hour later, Nate's text finally crawls in.

"Good girl. Knew you'd come around. Didn't spoil you for nothing."

"Chloe says she doesn't care about titles. The three of us are family now — you're the wife, she's the other thing. Just stop being jealous, okay?"

For the first time in four years, I don't reply. I just wait. Quietly. For the look on his face when the wedding comes.

The day before the ceremony, Hayden sends me an address.

I push open the door — and freeze.

Hanging in front of me is the wedding gown I designed in college. My dream dress. I drew it by hand and left the sketch on Nate's desk one night. He was gaming. He glanced at it, mumbled "looks nice," and went back to his screen. The sketch disappeared after that.

The shop assistant tells me Hayden commissioned it three months ago.

Right when my wedding to Nate was first announced.

I step out of the fitting room, and Chloe's shrill voice cuts through the air.

"Nate! I want this one!"

For a split second, Nate's eyes flash — caught off guard, admiring — before Chloe's whining snaps him back.

"Babe, you said you owed me a wedding. You said you'd make it up to me. I want this dress. Wren won't mind — right?"

Nate reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Wren, Chloe's pregnant. Don't upset her. Let her have it — I'll buy you something even better."

I don't move.

His patience vanishes. "That fitted silhouette doesn't even look good on you. Chloe's got the body for it."

He grabs me, rough and careless, yanks the gown off my shoulders. The whole thing slides to the floor. I'm standing there in my slip, arms crossed over my chest, stumbling backward.

Nate hands his Black Card to the assistant without blinking. "Triple the price. Charge it."

Chloe hugs the dress to her chest and beams at me. Sweet as poison.

Nate ruffles her hair, then turns to me like he just remembered something.

"Oh — about tomorrow. Keep it low-key. Chloe's doctor says her hormones can't handle stimulation. I booked a little place in Queens — a few tables, a few friends, casual dinner. You hate big events anyway, right?"

He shows me a photo of the venue. Mildew creeping up the walls to the ceiling. Round tables draped in cheap plastic. Fake flowers so tacky they look like funeral-home wreaths.

I swallow the nausea and keep my voice flat.

"Don't worry about my wedding. Save this for you and Chloe."

Nate's jaw tightens.

"Chloe spent three days — pregnant — running around to find this place for you. She was on her hands and knees picking out those tablecloths and flowers."

"She does everything for you, and this is the face you give her?"

He steps closer. Unclasps my necklace. Removes my earrings. My bracelet.

"Also — don't wear the heirloom set tomorrow. Chloe's energy healer said your aura is too intense. Gold near the baby could hurt him. He's fragile — can't risk it."

At the mention of the baby, his voice goes soft. His mouth curls into that little smile.

"Better safe than sorry. You're the wife. Act like it. Be the bigger person."

He nods to himself, satisfied. Grabs a bridesmaid dress off the rack and holds it out to me.

"Wear this tomorrow."