Chapter 3

Liora’s POV

If Viola wanted to play the victim, then she shouldn’t be surprised when I played the role too.

My words landed. Evan’s brow furrowed deeper. “That’s not what I meant.”

I took a step back, letting my voice crack just enough.

“Evan, she’s your childhood sweetheart. And me? What am I—your tenth girlfriend? I know my place.”

I watched his jaw tighten. That flicker of guilt? Gone. Replaced with irritation.

“You’re exaggerating, Liora,” he snapped, a little too fast. “Don’t make a scene.”

His patience was thinning. But I didn’t back down.

“Who’s your fiancée—me or her? Because from the way you’re defending that whore, it sure as hell doesn’t sound like me.”

Evan stepped in closer. His voice dropped, low and cold. “Have I been giving you too much freedom lately? Did you forget what I told you? As my wife, you’re not allowed to act like this. If you can’t handle it, I won’t marry you.”

Like a threat.

As if not marrying him would be the end of me.

How arrogant do you have to be, Evan?

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, “If I don’t marry you, who will?” he murmured. “After your father died, I’ve kept your family’s casino afloat. The only reason it hasn’t been bought out or crushed is because of me. You need to think clearly, Liora. I’m the only one left who’s on your side. Don’t make me angry, okay?”

I tilted my chin up, swallowing the urge to slap him. Or throw up. “Alright.”

His eyes softened like I’d passed some test. “That’s my good girl. Let’s focus on the wedding, hmm? I heard you still haven’t picked a dress. Take Viola with you—she’ll help you.”

“Sounds good.” I smiled, bright and blinding.

“And make her your bridesmaid. She’s upset about what you said earlier.”

The sickness I felt wasn’t even about Viola anymore. She might not have been the worst of it. Evan was. The way he acted like a king, like we were all interchangeable. Like women were just… disposable.

Seeing me not rejecting, Evan smiled, pulled out his credit card, hesitated for a beat, then handed it over.

Without another word, he walked off—probably thinking he’d charmed me again. That I was right back where he wanted me. Trusting him. Needing him.

Self-entitled asshole.

The moment he walked out that door, I moved everything I owned to a penthouse apartment I’d quietly purchased months ago. A place Evan had never heard me mention.

He wouldn’t be able to find me. Not unless I wanted to be found.

…

Viola called me early in the morning, her voice practically bouncing through the phone.

“I already booked the wedding salon,” she chirped. “Come on, Liora. I’m picking the dress!”

She sounded so giddy, like she was the bride—or at least the most enthusiastic bridesmaid in history.

When I stepped into the salon, the front was empty. No sign of Viola.

A woman in a sleek suit came over and gave me a bright smile. “Right this way, Mrs. Callister.” She gestured toward the dressing room.

I hadn’t even touched the curtain when I heard a woman gasp inside.

And then, I pulled it open.

Viola stood there, beaming at herself in the mirror, dressed in a white wedding gown. “Stop it…” she said with a laugh, preening like a model mid-photoshoot. Then her eyes found mine, and the smile faltered—just slightly.

“I’m not Mrs. Callister,” she corrected smoothly. “She is.”

The staff member turned a brilliant shade of red. “Oh—I’m sorry, I thought…”

“No worries,” I said, waving it off.

Viola gave a slow spin in front of the mirror, catching my gaze in the reflection. “Do I look stunning?”

She didn’t even try to hide the pride in her voice. It oozed out of her, every inch of her posture smug.

She knew Evan had chosen her. After that day, he must’ve done something—said something—that made it clear she’d won. That she mattered more than I did. And she was reveling in it.

I should’ve walked out now. But I didn’t. The perfect time to walk out was yet to come.

So I nodded once, calm as ever. “Very stunning. No wonder the staff thought you were the bride.”

“That’s right,” she said, twirling again. “I guess I do have that bride energy.”

She gestured toward a gown on the rack beside her. “Since you were late, I picked out your dress.”

I stepped closer. Blinked.

It was… awful.

I wasn’t expecting Viola to choose something beautiful for me, but this was a new level of sabotage. It was plain. Ugly. Unflattering in every possible way.

If I wore that down the aisle, no one would believe I was the bride. They’d assume she was.

Still, I kept my tone light. “And the one you’re wearing now—planning to make it the bridesmaid dress?”

Viola raised a brow. “What, worried I’ll outshine you?”

She was getting bolder. Crueler. As if the closer we got to the wedding, the more convinced she was that I was trapped in their little game. That I wouldn’t dare fight back. And if I did? Evan would just put me back in my place.

So why bother pretending anymore?

She wanted a reaction. I saw it in her eyes, the way she watched my face like it was a game.

Fine. I gave her one. I furrowed my brow. “Now that you mention it, the dress you picked for me does feel a little… underwhelming.”

Her smile twitched. Cracked.

Then came the venom. “Well, you’ll have to wear it anyway. Evan said I’d be helping you. And apparently, helping you means fixing your outdated fashion sense.”

She didn’t even bother hiding her impatience anymore. Viola walked over, tossed the dress straight into my arms—like she couldn’t wait to see it on me. “Go try it on.”

I headed to the dressing room. Less than a minute later, she followed me inside.

The moment she saw me in the dress, she nearly burst out laughing. “You do look stunning, Liora. That dress really suits you.”

Before I could say anything, Evan’s voice echoed from the front of the shop. “Where are they?”

“Mrs. Callister is in the fitting room,” someone replied.

Viola turned to me with a raised brow… and then promptly dropped to the ground. “Why did you push me?” she cried, loud enough to carry through the entire store.