CHAPTER 2: MAID OF HONOR

VERONICA POV

Jason freezes when he notices me, his icy blue eyes blown wide like a kid caught stealing.

Moni doesn’t stop right away—she keeps riding him for one more second, hips rolling lazily, before she finally turns her head, annoyed, like I’ve interrupted her favorite scene.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pushing Moni off him slowly.

Moni scrambles across the bed, yanking a blanket over her naked body. She glances back at Jason, lips pursed in frustration. “Seriously, baby? I was so close to cumming…”

“Why are you home so early?”

I stare at him, my mouth opening and closing once before the words come out. “Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Oh please…” Moni drawls with a bored sigh, stretching like a cat. “Can we drop the pathetic acting already, babe?”

She places a hand against her flat stomach, then smirks at me, eyes gleaming like she’s showing off a trophy.

“Isn’t it the perfect time to let my beloved best friend know I’m pregnant?”

The room tilts. My vision blurs at the edges.

Her words echo like gunshots in my skull. My stomach twists so hard I press a hand to it; afraid I might be sick right there.

“Pregnant? You’re lying…” I whisper, my voice barely audible. I need it to be a lie. I need anything but this.

But Moni only laughs—that cruel little giggle she does when she knows she’s won. “Two months,” she sing-songs, tapping her tummy lightly.

“Congrats, bestie—you’re officially invited to be maid of honor at the wedding. Three months from now.”

I stare at her stomach, then at her face, voice shaking as the math refuses to add up.

“But… How can you be pregnant? You just got into Los Angeles last month.”

Moni’s smile only widens, like she’s savoring every second of my confusion.

Jason finally meets my eyes.

“We didn’t start when she came back,” he says quietly.

“We’ve been seeing each other long before that.”

The words land like a slap.

“How could you even do this to me? Is this why you’ve barely even come home in days?”

He shrugs, the smallest movement, like it costs him nothing.

“Well… now you know,” he says, his tone disturbingly calm. He reaches for Moni’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “We’re getting married in three months. I’ll send you an invite if you want… though the banquet hall’s strict about plus-ones.”

I cut him with a look so sharp he shuts up mid-sentence.

Banquet hall? Plus-ones?

They planned an entire future while I was desperately trying to save whatever was left of us.

My knees buckle slightly; I catch myself on the doorframe, fingers digging into the wood.

Jason’s gaze finally hardens, his voice dropping to something low. “It’s pathetic that you ever imagined I could love someone like you. You’re not just beneath me, you’re irrelevant. You don’t even know who you are without me. It would be an absolute shame to my reputation if you carried my child.”

I nod, blinking hard as my eyes sting.

Moni slinks against Jason’s chest again, tracing circles over his skin with her fingertips. “Don’t bother explaining, baby. She’s not worth our time.” She glances at me with mock pity.

She licks her lips. “Continue wrecking my pussy, daddy.” They kiss, and Jason starts guiding her backward toward the bed again.

She glances at me over his shoulder. “You’re welcome to watch, though,” she giggles, covering her mouth like she’s shy.

I bite the inside of my cheek.

My fingers curl into my palm, nails digging in as I try—fail—to steady my voice.

“You know what, Jason…” My throat tightens, but I force it out anyway. “It’s fucking over between us.”

For a second, he just stares. Like he didn’t expect me to actually say it.

Good.

I don’t wait for whatever excuse he’s about to give. I turn, my chest heaving, and storm out of the room, slamming the door so hard it rattles the walls.

The moment I’m in the hallway, everything cracks.

The tears come fast—hot, blinding, uncontrollable. I press my hand to my mouth, like that might somehow hold the sound in, but a broken sob slips through anyway.

I rush outside, the cool night air hitting my damp face.

I lift a shaky hand and flag down the first cab I see.

It slows, pulling up beside me. I open the door and slide in quickly, avoiding the driver’s eyes.

I give him my address.

He nods and pulls off without a word.

I lean back against the seat, turning my face toward the window, watching the city smear into streaks of light through blurred vision.

My fingers twist together in my lap.

And then the bitter thought creeps in.

Maybe going to a bar would help.

I’ve read enough of those cliché romance novels—the ones where the female lead drinks until the pain dulls, until everything stops hurting for just a little while.

Maybe that’s exactly what I need.

Just… a few hours where I don’t feel anything.

I let out a shaky breath. The driver makes a sharp turn at the next junction.

Decision made.

By the time I get home, I went through the back door so my family wouldn’t know I was back.

The café dress hit the floor; a tight silk red one took its place.

I curled my hair into soft body waves, but my hands were trembling so badly from thinking about everything that I wasn’t even paying attention. The curling iron slipped and burned my neck. I barely felt it.

Tears streaked my face the whole ride to the nearest bar.

“Again,” I murmur, raising the empty glass higher.

“Ma’am… are you absolutely sure about this? This would be your third shot in less than thirty minutes.”

“Yes. Just… pour it.”

He hesitates, then pours without another word.

I should be here, drinking and dancing with my boyfriend for absolutely no reason, just like we used to. Instead, I’m drinking to distract myself from him.

I’m so stupid for not seeing this coming sooner. Thinking back, the red flags were obvious… but I never let myself think too much about them.

“Get me a glass of whiskey and a vodka for the lady over here,” a deep voice says from behind me.

I don’t bother turning around. I don’t care who it is right now.

“Is it your cheating boyfriend that got you in the mood?”

“I’m not really a party person,” I mutter.

“Same here,” he replies coolly. “I’m only here out of obligations.”

Silence stretches between us for a long moment.

Wait—how does he know about a cheating boyfriend? Or is it just a lucky guess? Most women who drag themselves into a club looking as broken as I do right now probably have the exact same story.

The bartender slides my drink in front of me. I take a long sip, waiting for the alcohol to finish numbing everything.

Every time I replay the scene in my head, it tears me apart a little more.

So this is it. This is how my entire life shatters into pieces. How could they do this to me? They’re getting married. They’re having a baby soon. My first love… the one I imagined marrying… the one I dreamed of starting a family with… and now he’s living that life with my best friend.

“Thank you for the drink,” I finally say, turning to look at the stranger.

He meets my gaze without flinching. “Right now, my employer, Mr. Xavier Cross, noticed you seemed like you could use a quiet place upstairs.”

Xavier Cross. The name echoes in my foggy mind. I know he’s important… someone huge… but everything feels too blurry right now.

“He wants you in his private lounge. I’ll show you the way upstairs,” he says, his tone sharp and precise.

I have so many questions, but I’m terrified they’ll come out sounding ridiculous.

“Oh, please,” I manage to say. “As you probably guessed earlier, I just got out of a toxic relationship.”

I swallow hard, forcing the words out. “I don’t think I want to see any man right now. If he wants me, he can show up himself—that’s more appropriate.“

His brows lift, incredulous. “Alright… let me drop the professionalism for a second. Are you seriously turning down Mr. Cross? Do you even realize how rare it is for someone to get anywhere near him?”

I open my mouth, about to say something, but a sharp, shrill ring cuts through the air.

My stomach drops instantly.

I never get random calls—except from Moni, or Diana about some stupid group project.

“I’m sorry… I have to take this.”

He pulls back immediately, his expression tightening.

I fumble for my phone in my bag.

The screen reads “Mom.”

Mom? She literally never calls. This is so weird.

My thumb hovers a second before I swipe to answer.

“Veronica! Please, come home immediately,” she said, panic in her voice.

The line goes dead.

I stare at the screen, the call duration frozen at four seconds. My heart slams so hard I can feel it in my throat.

She sounded panicked; Mom never panicked—ever.

“I… I have to go right now… sir,” I say, my voice cracking despite my effort to stay calm.

“Thank you… for the drink, by the way,” I whisper, still clutching my phone.

The moment I burst through the front door at home, I find Mom crumpled on the cold floor, sobbing uncontrollably, while Diana kneels beside her, patting her back gently.

“What’s wrong, Mom? Please, what’s wrong? Somebody say something…”

“Your father… he was rushed to the hospital.”

Her voice breaks completely. “They took him away in an ambulance.”