Chapter three

He sat on a white couch, looking relaxed and handsome in a tailored suit. And beside him, holding his hand—

Cassia.

“—so grateful to have her back,” Darius was saying, smiling at her with such warmth it made my chest ache. “I thought I’d lost her forever.”

“And what about your wife?” the interviewer asked. “Brynn Haverton?”

The smile dropped from Darius’s face.

“That,” he said coldly, “will be handled soon.”

The café felt too small, too bright and too loud. Everyone was staring at the television now, at Darius and Cassia, the perfect couple, sitting on that white couch like they belonged together, like they’d always belonged together.

The interviewer leaned forward, her expression sympathetic. “I can imagine this is a complicated situation. Your wife—Brynn—she must be devastated.”

Darius’s jaw tightened. “Brynn and I, our marriage was a mistake from the beginning.”

A mistake.

“How so?” the interviewer pressed.

Darius glanced at Cassia. She gave him the smallest nod, her expression encouraging, supporting him.

The way I used to.

Before she came back and took my place.

“Cassia and I were together before,” Darius explained, his voice steady, certain. “We were in love, planning our future. And then she had an accident, fell off a cliff during a hiking trip. I thought she was dead.”

The audience made sympathetic noises.

“I was destroyed,” he continued. “Completely broken. And Brynn, she was there, always there.”

He made it sound like a bad thing.

“She took advantage of my grief,” Darius’s eyes hardened. “Manipulated me when I was vulnerable, convinced me that marrying her would somehow honor Cassia’s memory, that Cassia would have wanted me to move on.”

I couldn’t believe the lies he was telling. He had proposed to me, he’d asked me to marry him, I’d never manipulated—

“So you married her,” the interviewer said.

“I did.” Darius’s voice was full of regret. “And I’ve regretted it every single day since.”

“But now,” the interviewer’s tone shifted, becoming hopeful, “Cassia is back, alive. What happens now?”

Darius turned to Cassia, and his entire expression softened, became tender, became everything he’d never been with me.

“Now,” he said, “I fix my mistake.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

No.

My hands clutched the edge of the table, knuckles white.

Around me, the café erupted in excited whispers. Everyone leaning closer to the screen, everyone watching.

Everyone except me wanting this to happen.

“Cassia Moreau,” Darius said, his voice thick with emotion, with love. “I should have done this three years ago, I should have married you instead of—”

He didn’t even say my name, just stopped, like I wasn’t worth mentioning.

“I love you,” he continued. “I’ve always loved you, only you. And now that you’re back, I don’t want to waste another moment.”

He opened the box.

Inside was a ring, a massive diamond that caught the studio lights and threw rainbows across the screen.

I knew that ring.

I’d seen it two years ago in a jewelry store window, had stopped and stared at it, mesmerized by its beauty. Had shyly mentioned it to Darius on our anniversary, hoping, praying that maybe he’d surprise me with it.

He’d looked at me with such disgust.

“You?” he’d laughed. “You’re not worthy of something that beautiful, Brynn. That ring is for someone special, someone who deserves it.”

Someone like Cassia.

The camera zoomed in as Darius slid off the couch and knelt on the floor, knelt in front of Cassia, in front of the whole world.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

The studio fell silent.

Cassia’s hands flew to her mouth, tears streaming down her perfect face. “Darius…”

“Say yes,” someone in the café whispered.

“She has to say yes,” another person agreed.

I sat frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but watch.

“Yes,” Cassia whispered. Then louder: “Yes! Yes, a thousand times yes!”

The studio erupted in applause and the café erupted in cheers.

Darius slipped the ring onto her finger—my ring, the one I’d never been worthy of—and pulled her into his arms.

“Oh my God, that was beautiful!” the woman at the table next to me gushed to her friend.

“I know! True love always wins!”

“They’re perfect together.”

“That poor man, being trapped with that awful wife for so long…”

My chest hurt, actually physically hurt, like someone had reached inside and crushed my heart in their fist.

The interview continued, but I couldn’t hear it over the ringing in my ears, couldn’t focus on anything except Darius and Cassia, still kissing, still holding each other like they’d never let go.

My phone buzzed.

A notification, then another, and another.

Social media.

I shouldn’t look, knew I shouldn’t look.

But I did anyway.

My social media was exploding, tagged in thousands of posts, photos of the proposal, videos of the kiss, comments, so many comments.

“Finally Darius is getting his happily ever after!”

“Cassia and Darius are GOALS”

“Brynn needs to sign those divorce papers and disappear”

“She trapped him in that marriage. So pathetic”

“I hope Darius makes her life hell for what she did to Cassia”

More and more, an avalanche of hatred, of judgment, of people celebrating my pain.

“Excuse me.”

I looked up. A young woman stood over my table, her phone pointed at me, recording.

“You’re Brynn Haverton, right?” she asked loudly, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Darius Blackwood’s wife?”

The entire café turned to stare.

Oh no.

“I…” my voice came out as a whisper.

“It is her!” someone else shouted. “That’s the woman who tried to kill Cassia!”

Suddenly everyone was pulling out their phones, pointing them at me, recording.

“How could you try to ruin their love?”

“You’re pathetic!”

“Darius deserves so much better than you!”

I stood up too fast, knocking over my tea. It spilled across the table, dripping onto the floor.

“I didn’t—” I tried to say. “I’m not—”

“Look at her,” the first woman sneered. “She can’t even deny it.”

“Murderer!”

“Home wrecker!”

The voices came from all sides now, surrounding me, trapping me.

“You need to leave.” The café owner appeared, his face twisted with disgust. “Now.”

“But I—”

“Your presence is causing problems.” He grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the door. “Get out and don’t come back.”

“Please, I just—”

“OUT!”

He shoved me through the door and I stumbled onto the sidewalk, nearly falling.