Chapter 2

Fiona POV

“Miss!” Someone calls out from behind me as I stumble away. I push out of the door and walk away, not bothering to answer the person calling for me.

Everything blurs around me as I move toward town.

Andy, the man I loved, married someone else.

When I can’t walk any further, I slump onto a bench and stare into the nothingness as my heart breaks into a million pieces. He promised, and after three years, he didn’t keep it.

I try not to cry, but the tears spill over, running down my cheeks like a dam broke. No amount of sniffling or wiping gets rid of them, and nothing could make my chest stop hurting. The ache is so heavy, I struggle to breathe as I sit here.

With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, I’m utterly alone.

Just as I’m about to get up and search for somewhere to hide and cry, my phone rings. I dig into my pocket, seeing Andy’s name on the screen. Now he calls back? I almost laugh because he seemed more than a bit busy when I saw him.

I debate for a second whether or not to answer, but my bad sense wins out.

“Hello?”

“Fiona, hey. I’m sorry I missed your call,” Andy says, his tone calm and nonchalant. It makes my skin itch. “Where are you? Did you find a ride from the prison?”

How could he act like nothing happened? Straightening up, I force the sadness down and clear my throat. If he wants to play like that, I can play.

“I’m sitting outside of a shop in town,” I tell him, glancing over my shoulder. “It’s called Mary Sue’s Threads.” Ironically, it’s a dress shop.

“That’s near the venue. I’ll be there in just a few minutes,” he says, then the line goes silent. I pull it from my ear and glare at the device. He’d hung up.

My anger bubbles in my blood, and to keep myself from marching back toward the venue to tear him a new one, I fiddle with the skirt of my dress. He’s coming here, to see me.

Part of my broken heart hopes he changed his mind and is looking for me, but the other, colder half tells me he’s a lying bastard for hurting me like this.

It doesn’t take long for Andy to show up, and as soon as he steps out of the fancy car he’s driving, I notice the differences between us. Unable to stop myself, I let my eyes roam down his body. He’s dressed impeccably in a navy-blue three-piece suit that looks like it’s brand new. His suit is finished out with a nice, silk bow tie that looks like it cost more than my entire dress.

Then there’s me. I’m dressed in an old, ill-fitting wedding gown that’s been crammed in a prison storage box for three years, and don’t even mention that my makeup is probably smudged to hell from all the crying.

This was not how I imagined us meeting again.

Not by a long shot.

I stand as Andy stops in front of me, expecting a hello, an apology, something. All I get is a smug, unapologetic, “I’m already the King’s son-in-law, as I’m sure you already know.”

“Excuse me?”

My chest tightens, and I have to forcibly hold my hand at my side to keep from hitting him. This is how he greets me after three years of prison and betraying me? Does he have any remorse? I guess not because the longer he looks at me, the more I can see the disgust on his face.

He even steps back to put some distance between us.

I guess my control is slipping because I reach out and grab Andy’s arm, my fingers digging into his sleeve.

“How can you marry someone else?” I demand, gritting my teeth to keep back the tears stinging my eyes. “What about the promise you gave me in the beginning?”

Immediately, Andy jerks his arm away, pulling out of my hold. With a huff of annoyance, he dusts his jacket off and runs fingers over the discolored scratches from my nails. The wrinkle in his nose tells me more than his words ever could.

“I’ve grown in the last three years, Fiona,” he hisses, narrowing his eyes at me. “I’ve mastered pharmaceutical sales and taken over my family’s pharmaceutical company. My future is unlimited now and going to too many places for a wife like you.”

“Like me?” I bark, holding the anger in.

“My status is so much higher than it used to be, so how could I marry a criminal?”

His words stop my thoughts, freezing me in place. A criminal? Me?

“Besides, the Princess and I are fated mates,” he growls, throwing his arms out to his sides. “That means, our relationship and marriage are the will of the Moon Goddess!”

I stagger back, trying to process his words as my anger boils to a point where my entire body heats up. How could he go this far and not tell me? Does he have no common decency? Of course not. He let me go to prison for him.

My knees shake, but I steel myself, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“Criminal? Me?” I hiss, snarling at him, “You know very well that I took the blame for you.” I dig my finger into his chest. “If you did not say that it was for our future, for us to be together, and to keep the status of the power struggle balanced, why would I have—”

Andy slaps my hand away and moves two steps back, interrupting me, “I’m no longer the pathetic bastard I was back then. It was all a joke, but who was I to stop you when you agreed to take my place? You did that of your own volition.”

Another knife gets lodged in my back as I realize he’s serious.

“Then what about this?” I ask, pulling the ring box out of my pocket. “What about your grandmother’s ring?”

Andy laughs, and my heart sinks.

“That is nothing more than a replica… a fake.”

Another knife. More pain.

My chest tightens in anger, in pain, and with disappointment as he stares down at me as if nothing he’s saying is wrong. I glare up at Andy and find him staring down at me with interested eyes that look me up and down.

“If you behave yourself, Fiona, I could let you be my lover… as compensation for your troubles, of cour—”

Before his words are fully out, my hand flies out, slapping him in the face. Satisfaction and disgust swirl in me as his head snaps to the side and a surprised look paints his face.

“Do you already think you’re king when you had your lover take the blame for you?” I hiss, trying to hold my anger back. It wouldn’t do me any good to attack him, especially since people have started staring. I don’t need to go back to prison.

Andy’s eyes narrow on me, but he also notices the people who have stopped and started staring at our confrontation. Something flickers in his eyes before he straightens up, fixes his jacket and moves away from me.

“Fiona, if you don’t leave, I’ll call the police to send you back to prison for attacking me,” he says confidently while running a hand over his hair.

I gawk at him, my mouth open in shock at the audacity. He turns and walks back over to his car but stops right before getting in.

“Don’t regret your choice.”

Then, he climbs back in his car and drives off, leaving me alone and heartbroken.

Wanting to get away from the annoyed and pitied looks of the people around me, I push myself up and stumble down the street on weak legs. My chest aches with each step, and my heart breaks more as Andy’s words run on repeat in my mind.

Soon, I reach the end of the street, and the glowing green sign from the bar on the corner calls to me. If there’s anything that can erase today’s events, it’s alcohol.

“Welcome to Jeff’s! Take a seat anywhere,” someone shouts when I enter the bar. I make a beeline for the bar, gathering my dress skirt up so I can sit in the empty chair at the end of the bar.

I order several shots of the strongest drink, and as soon as they’re in front of me, I slam them back. The burn feels good and immediately pushes back the pain in my chest.

Stupid fucking bastard.

“And here is the happy couple!” The woman on TV announces. “The marriage of Princess Chloe is all anyone can talk about today, and we now have footage of the happy couple leaving the wedding. Oh, aren’t they the most beautiful couple?”

Her happy tone and the images of Andy and the Princess leaving their wedding make me want to puke as tears of pain blur my vision.

“And of course, the King leaves just after his beautiful daughter, looking as regal as ever.”

An image pops up on the TV, but it’s blurry from the tears as they stream down my face. I wipe at them, blinking until they stop, and find the bartender placing a glass of something I didn’t order in front of me.

Instead of turning it away, I lift the glass to my lips and tilt it back. The burn sears my throat, but again, it doesn’t fully numb me like I hoped.

The longer I sit here, the heavier I feel, but that isn’t the only thing I feel. There’s a tingle at the back of my neck, and when I turn around, I find a pair of eyes on me.

I freeze because the most handsome man I’ve ever seen is staring back at me across the room.