3. Alone? No, He's with My Sister

I didn’t know how long I stood frozen in that doorway, clutching a bag full of scandalous shame and too many questions.

I couldn’t knock. Couldn’t confront him.

Her.

Them.

Not when I still felt sore between my legs after mistakenly fucking a stranger. All I could do was stare at that closed door behind me and wonder how many more secrets this hallway could hold.

Then I forced myself to move, one foot after the other, until I finally made it to the lobby.

I marched straight to the front desk, barely able to breathe through the rage and adrenaline choking me. The receptionist looked up, startled by the sudden force of my arrival. She was young, overly cheerful, and too caffeinated to be prepared for me.

“Hi,” I said sweetly, faking the kind of voice I usually reserved for formal dinners or meetings with my father’s clients. “I need to check out of room 812.”

She nodded, typing quickly. “Of course, Ms. Redmond. How was your stay?”

“Unforgettable,” I said dryly. “But actually, I was hoping to send a thank-you gift to the guest in the suite across from mine. You know, just a small gesture of appreciation.”

“Of course, ma’am. What would you like me to send?”

“Just a bottle of your most expensive champagne for, what’s his name again… Mr. Borken?”

“Ah, yes. I can send the bottle up right away. I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Borken would like it very much.”

I tried to feign calmness. “Mrs. Borken?”

“Yes, he’s always here with his partner. We guess they’re already married.” She smiled again, clueless to the emotional apocalypse happening behind my eyes. “Not that it’s any of our business even if they’re not anyway. We just referred them because they’ve been very affectionate, kissing in the lobby, holding hands. We thought it was really sweet, actually.”

I laughed. I actually laughed.

The kind of laugh that bubbles up when your soul is collapsing and the universe is too cruel to make sense anymore.

“Sweet,” I repeated, biting back a feral grin. “Yeah. Adorable.”

I didn’t even wait for the receipt. I turned, walked out the doors of that overpriced hellhole, and stepped into the moonlight like a woman reborn.

Because here’s the thing.

I accidentally kidnapped a stranger, mistook him for my cheating fiancé, and absolutely railed him within an inch of his life. Meanwhile, my actual fiancé was across the hall, getting handsy with my own younger sister.

And suddenly? I didn’t feel bad anymore.

Not even a little.

But I wasn’t free yet.

There was still a wedding scheduled for next week. An ivory monstrosity paid for with my father’s money and my mother’s pride. I’d be paraded down an aisle in front of five hundred people, each seat filled with expectation, legacy, or judgment.

Probably all three.

And for what?

A man who was too cowardly to tell me he liked my younger sister?

No. Ezra Borken didn’t get to humiliate me in whispers. If I was going to burn this wedding to the ground, I was going to need proof. Something undeniable. Something even my parents’ PR team couldn’t spin.

So I made the call.

Sadie picked up on the second ring. “Finally! Tell me everything. Was he surprised? Did he cry? Did he beg? Oh god, please tell me he begged—”

“I kidnapped the wrong man,” I said flatly.

There was a beat of stunned silence on the other end.

 Then Sadie let out a laugh so violent I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “Oh my god, you didn’t.”

“I did. Your Phantom Fantasy guys grabbed the wrong man. Right abs though, unfortunately.”

“Oh noooo,” she groaned, laughing even harder. “That’s so much better than the doggy-style ambush idea you pitched. Please tell me he was hot.”

“Hotter than he had any right to be,” I muttered. “And of course, I figured it out after I—”

I clenched my jaw.

Sadie gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I did.”

She screeched. “Rainey, you little sex criminal! Oh my god, this is better than the fireforce stripers bachelorette party!”

“Please don’t say that—” I covered my face with my free hand. “I think I need to join a monastery.”

Sadie was still cackling. “You accidentally banged a hot stranger in a honeymoon suite! Lorraine, this is the plot of a p**n script written by an unhinged romance novelist.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” I said grimly. “After the guy untied himself and I kicked him out… I saw Ezra.”

Sadie’s laughter cut off immediately. “What do you mean you saw Ezra?”

“I mean I opened the door to leave, and there he was, walking into the suite directly across from mine.”

“Alone?”

I scoffed, my voice shaking. “No. He wasn’t alone.”

“Who?” Sadie asked, her tone sharp and wary.

I hesitated for half a second. Then I said it. Flat. Final. Like a blade. “Meredith.”

The silence on the other end was electric.

“My little sister, Sadie. Long brown hair. Tiny waist. Same Chanel luggage she always drags around like a trust fund trophy.” My voice cracked at the edges. “I saw her. I saw them. Laughing. Holding hands. Going into the suite. The same one across from mine. One fucking door away.”

“Oh. My. God.” Sadie breathed, low and lethal. “That little backstabbing bitch.”

I stared straight ahead, numb. “I sent them champagne. As a petty gift. The receptionist said they looked happy. Said they always came to this hotel together. Said they were holding hands. Kissing.”

Sadie went deathly quiet. Then, in a voice like a storm about to break, she said, “She’s your sister, Lorraine. Your baby sister. And he’s your fiancé. Your wedding is in a week.”

“I know,” I whispered. “Trust me. I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do. Because if you did, you’d be setting fire to something right now instead of talking to me. Meredith isn’t just a snake, she’s a fucking nuclear traitor in Louboutin. And Ezra? That smug bastard doesn’t even deserve your rage. He deserves ruin. They both do.” She paused, then added darkly, “Honestly? We should go further. Like… actual homicide further.”

I let out a weak laugh that cracked mid-breath.

“I’m serious,” Sadie said, and I could hear the crazy glint in her voice. “I’ve watched enough murder trials to know how to make a body vanish. You wouldn’t even need to lift a finger. I’d do it for you. Cheerfully. I’d wear heels to court, argue the case, and then bury them both in a matching set of designer suitcases.”

“Sadie…”

“I’m your lawyer. Your best friend. Your ride-or-die. If you’re not feeling up to it, say the word and I’ll do it for you. One shovel, two graves, zero regrets.”

Despite everything, my lips twitched. “You’re insane.”

“I’m loyal,” she corrected. “Which is more than I can say for your fiancé or your bitch of a sister.”

“Thank you,” I sat on the curb, shaking. “But for now, I just want the wedding to fail. Publicly. Catastrophically. I want them humiliated in front of everyone. My parents. His parents. Five hundred guests. The press. The world.”

Sadie let out a slow, delighted hum. “Now that’s my girl.”

“I want proof. I want it all. Texts. Photos. Hotel footage. I don’t care how you get it. Your guys owe me after kidnapping the wrong man.”

“They’ll get it,” she said, already in take-no-prisoners mode. “I swear.”

“Good,” I said, voice ice-cold now. “Because I’m not walking down that aisle unless it’s to drag them both to hell.”

***

One week later.

***

The mirror didn’t lie.It never did. That was the worst part.

Because there I was, flawless on the surface. Not in white, but in black. A masterpiece of bridal defiance. The satin hugged my frame like a second skin, rich and inky, with lace as sharp as grief tracing the edges of my sleeves.

I looked like a woman walking toward her own beautifully staged betrayal. Not the blushing bride in white, but a dark omen in heels.

Sadie crouched beside me, adjusting the hem of my gown with the concentration of a neurosurgeon and the attitude of a bomb technician. Her blonde curls bounced with every movement, and that unhinged gleam in her eyes only got wilder the longer she looked at me, like she couldn’t believe we were actually doing this, and also like she’d never been more thrilled in her life.

“Okay, babe,” she said, straightening up with a dramatic flourish, “We’ve got everything ready. You say the word, and this wedding becomes a courtroom drama with a live studio audience.”

I didn’t smile. Couldn’t.

Sadie’s phone buzzed. “Guests are arriving. Ezra’s being a smug little dick in the groom’s suite. Meredith’s floating around like she didn’t spend last weekend doing naked yoga with your fiancé.”

My stomach turned. I wanted to throw up. Or scream. Or disappear.

“You want me to stay?” Sadie asked gently.

“No,” I murmured, swallowing hard. “Just… give me a moment. Alone.”

She looked at me like she didn’t trust me not to light the whole place on fire, but eventually she gave in with a sigh.

“Alright. I’ll be right outside,” she said. Then she hesitated in the doorway. “You look beautiful, by the way. Like a weapon in silk.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

I finally breathed.

My legs folded under me, and I collapsed onto the velvet stool in front of the mirror. My chest rose and fell in shallow waves, heart pounding like it wanted out.

I was about to detonate the illusion of a perfect life I’d worked my whole damn existence to build. Redmond's dutiful daughter. Ezra’s bride. Meredith’s shadow. All those labels were shackles. I’d spent years pretending I didn’t see the cracks in the glass. But today, I was done pretending.

Still… the grief came in strange waves. I thought I’d be angrier. I thought I’d feel fire and fury.

I closed my eyes.

The door opened again behind me. I turned sharply. “Sadie, I said I—”

But it wasn’t my best friend.

It was him.

The man I wasn’t supposed to see again. The wrong man in the honeymoon suite. The stranger who got accidentally kidnapped and I mistakenly made love with, thinking he was my fiance. The one with those starless dark eyes and a scar slashed on his face.

He stood in the doorway, built like a Greek statue. Tousled hair and starless dark eyes. A scar on his left cheek. Wrapped in a jet-black suit that clung like shadow and power. His tie, obsidian silk. His sharp focus was anchored to me with terrifying clarity.

Still broad, still dangerous, still wrong.

And I couldn’t breathe.

“Damn, Angel. If you’d told me you were dressing like a fallen, I’d have brought holy water.”