Chapter 2

Mom was shaking so hard she could barely stand. She lunged for Vivien, hand raised.

"You viper! This family raised you for twenty-six years — is this how you pay us back?"

Vivien ducked the slap and gave my mother a cold, steady smile.

"Raised me?"

"You raised me because I'm your actual daughter."

"But every ounce of love you had was always for her."

"She placed first in class? 'So smart.' I placed first? 'Well, you should.'"

"She studied abroad? You sold property to send her. I wanted to travel for the summer? I was being frivolous."

"Mom, put your hand on your heart and tell me. Did you ever actually treat me like a daughter?"

Mom went still. She opened her mouth to argue. Nothing came out.

Because every word Vivien had said was true.

The Thornes had favored me. I knew it. Vivien was rebellious and sharp-edged; I was sweet and easy.

But what had read as affection to the rest of us had been favoritism to Vivien.

"Juliet," Vivien said, stepping in close. "I'm not here to compete with you today."

"I'm here to tell you the truth."

"This man has never loved you. He loves me."

"The ring on your finger — I picked it."

"The dress you're wearing — I chose it with him."

"Do you like it? That's my taste. Not his."

I looked down at the dress I was wearing. Something in my stomach turned.

I'd tried this dress on over a dozen times. Every fitting, I'd been giddy as a child.

I'd thought Nathan had come to every fitting because he wanted to see me at my most beautiful.

He'd been there because he was running every decision past Vivien — checking what she wanted me to wear.

"And another thing." Vivien leaned in, mouth near my ear. "Guess who was with him for those two years you were gone?"

"Me."

"Every holiday. Every anniversary. Me."

"Those ties you sent him? He never wore them. I told him not to."

"The chocolates you mailed? He threw them all out. I told him I couldn't stand your taste."

"Juliet, you thought you loved him?"

"You only ever loved the man I built for you."

I stood on that stage like the punchline of a joke.

The guests were filming. Taking photos. Posting everything live.

Some of them laughed. Some of them sighed. Most were just enjoying the show.

Mom pressed a hand to her chest. Her face was white as chalk.

I started toward her, but Vivien got there first.

"I'll take care of Mom," she said, shoving me aside. "You need to go."

"Staying is just going to embarrass this family more."

I froze.

"She's right," Nathan said. "You should leave."

"The wedding's off. I'll have a lawyer reach out about a settlement."

A settlement.

He actually said settlement.

Like the last three years had been a business deal.

I didn't answer. I turned for the doors.

At the threshold, his voice stopped me.

"Oh — Juliet. You know your father was in the hospital, right?"

I stopped.

"Last week, your father had surgery. Vivien sat with him all night."

"You? You were traveling for work. You didn't even call."

"Do you really think you deserve to be a daughter of this family?"

I turned around.

"He had surgery? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Tell you?" Vivien laughed. "What would that have done? Could you have been on the next plane? Could you have signed the consent forms? Could you have given blood?"

"No."

"So drop the act, Juliet. You've never been part of this family."

"You weren't then. You aren't now. You never will be."

When I walked out of the chapel, it was pouring.

I didn't have an umbrella. I didn't have a car.

Nathan had driven me here. He'd said today was our day. He'd insisted on being the one to pick up the bride.

The bride wasn't me anymore.

I stood in the rain. My phone rang.

The hospital.

"Is this a family member of Mr. Thorne's? Mr. Thorne has suffered a stroke. He's in the emergency room. Please come in to sign paperwork immediately."

The blood in my veins went cold.

Nathan had lied.

Vivien had lied.

Everything they'd just said to me had been theater. Designed to humiliate me.

I hailed a cab. Straight to the hospital.

When I reached the ER waiting area, Mom was already there. Her eyes were red. She saw me and broke down.

"Juliet — your father — he saw it on social media, he saw the guests posting about Vivien storming the wedding. He got so worked up his blood pressure —"

I held her. My hands were shaking.

The surgery ran four hours.

During that time, Vivien and Nathan turned up.

Vivien walked in crying and threw herself into Mom's arms. "Mom, I'm sorry, I didn't mean — I had no idea he'd —"

Mom peeled her off. Her eyes were ice.

"You put him in the ICU. Are you satisfied?"

Vivien's face went ghost-white. She turned to Nathan.

Nathan steadied her with one hand and murmured, "It's not your fault. Don't be scared."

I stood in the corridor. I heard him say that.

My father was inside fighting for his life. The monitor beeping through the door like a countdown.

And Nathan, out here, was telling the woman who'd put him on that bed — It's not your fault.

I looked down at my own hand.

The wedding ring was still there.

I slid it off and dropped it into my coat pocket. My finger had a thin red line where it had been. The line faded in seconds.

Like nothing had ever been there.

I thought about this morning. Mom pinning my veil into place, saying, Juliet, you look beautiful. Dad patting my hand, saying, Go on. Nathan's a good kid.

They'd seen me off so happy.

None of this was their fault.

Twenty-six years, they hadn't shorted me by a dollar, by a word.

I owed them. I'd remember.

I looked down the corridor at Vivien.

She was leaning into Nathan's side, crying softly, like a wounded cat.

I didn't hate her.

I actually didn't.

None of this had been mine.

I was the baby the hospital handed to the wrong family. I'd fallen into this life by accident.

But the twenty-six years of real, solid warmth they'd given me — that was real. The name they'd put on my birth certificate. The tuition. The whole wedding I hadn't deserved.

I remembered. I would pay it back.

As for Vivien —

Twenty-six years of anger. I understood. This was her place; if she wanted it, fine.

She'd just been brutal about it.

I didn't want to fight her.

From here, she lived her life. I lived mine.

From here, I walked alone.

Then Nathan walked over. Stopped in front of me.

His eyes held guilt. Unease. And — I knew him too well — a glint of hope.

He was expecting me to cry.

Or break. Or beg. Or at least — scream something ugly at him.

He was waiting for me to start.

I looked at him a long time before I spoke.

"Nathan. We're done here."

He blinked.

"Juliet, I —"

"Don't."

I cut him off. Quiet.

"I don't need your apology."

"I don't want your explanation."

"I want to tell you one thing."

"A month ago, I saw you kissing Vivien in a café."

Nathan's face changed.

"I didn't out you. I gave you both a chance."

"And you chose to tell me, at my wedding, in the ugliest way possible."

"So starting now — you're out of my life. For good."

"Not because I hate you."

"Because you aren't worth hating."

Nathan stood there. He had no words.