Chapter 2

I didn't get what he meant. Before I could ask, he kept going.

"And here I thought you'd actually learned something. Turns out you're just fake-apologizing while stabbing her in the back."

"You know damn well Sienna and I are innocent. I'm marrying you. But you keep bringing up the license thing, you give back the Donna ring—what's your angle?"

"Are you trying to make people think there's something gross going on between me and my sister? Make everyone look at her like she's some kind of homewrecker?"

Every word hit like a punch to the chest. My heart was splitting open, but I couldn't stop the bitter smile tugging at my lips.

Of course. Of course he only cared about Sienna's reputation.

I yanked my arm free. A hundred retorts sat on the tip of my tongue, but I was too tired to say any of them.

So I just closed my eyes and sighed. "Fine. Whatever you say."

Lucas looked like he'd just swung at thin air. His throat tightened.

And then his eyes dropped to my face—to my red, swollen eyes—and something clicked. Guilt flickered across his features.

"Claire, I'm not trying to blame you—"

He fumbled for words. "Look, the whole marriage license thing with Sienna was just a joke. We're getting divorced in a few days anyway. Why do you have to make such a big deal out of it?"

Same old script. Eight years of it.

When Sienna's birthday wish was to take couple-style photos with him and I said no, he brushed me off—you're really gonna be jealous of your own sister?

When she moved in with us and started wearing my pajamas to bed while holding his suit jacket, I asked her to move out. He called me disgusting for even thinking that way—she just misses her brother, why are you making it weird?

And now, she'd walked down the aisle with him in front of a judge.

And his answer was still the same:

"She's just my sister. Why are you even competing with her?"

Good. This time, I wasn't competing.

I swallowed hard, my voice cracking when I spoke.

"Lucas... let's call off the wedding."

From somewhere behind him, Sienna's voice rang out: "Lucas! Everyone's waiting for you! Aren't you coming back?"

He spun around, his feet already moving toward her.

A few steps in, he seemed to remember I existed. He turned back, scrambling. "Wait—what did you say?"

Before I could answer, he waved it off with a dismissive smile. "Whatever it is, you decide. You're gonna be my Donna anyway. I'll go with whatever you want."

His words ran faster now.

"I know crowds aren't your thing, so just head home. Text me when you get there, okay?"

It sounded like a question. But it wasn't. He was already turning, already walking away without waiting for my answer.

I watched his back disappear, and my heart sank to the floor.

The soft, sweet words weren't for me. They were just lines he'd memorized—things boyfriends were supposed to say. He wanted to get through them as fast as possible so he could get back to Sienna.

He didn't care what I'd actually said. He didn't care if I made it home safe.

He never checked his phone when he was with her.

It didn't matter. I'd said what I needed to say. Whatever came next had nothing to do with him.

They didn't come home that night. Not a single text.

Just like I knew. He didn't even check if I was okay.

And honestly? I didn't care where they'd been.

I spent the whole next day packing. Anything I didn't need immediately went into boxes and got shipped off.

That's when it really hit me—how little of this house was actually mine.

When we'd rented the place, Lucas had given Sienna the biggest bedroom without a second thought.

She had a wall of custom closets and a full gaming setup worth ten grand. Our room? Cramped. A tiny closet stuffed with his suits. My clothes were folded in a corner. I worked off my laptop on the nightstand because there wasn't even room for a chair.

I used to just think, wow, Sienna must be making good money.

Lucas would always roll his eyes and say, "She's not making that much. She just wastes cash on junk. One of these days I'm throwing all of it out."

Later, I found out he'd bought her every single piece of that "junk"—the designer clothes and the high-end gaming gear.

He'd never done anything like that for me.

My eyes stung again. I blinked fast, forcing the tears back.

It was simple, really: if I couldn't have it, I didn't want it.

I was sealing the last box when Lucas and Sienna walked through the door.

He saw the stack of luggage and his brow furrowed. "Claire. What's all this?"