Chapter One

“Fiona. Fiona. Fiona, please wake up...”

The sound of my name keeps coming, soft at first, then louder. Someone’s voice, somewhere above me, like I’m rising out of water and can’t quite find the surface.

There’s a shadow across the room. Light is pressing through my eyelids. I sit up suddenly and suck in a breath that tastes like panic. My eyes search for something solid. My heart thuds. It comes back in an instant. The message. The video. Imagining Naomi’s smug little voice and expression. Edward’s mouth on another woman’s body, on her body... His hands where they didn’t belong. The betrayal sits heavy in my chest, thick and bitter, like I swallowed something poisonous and it’s still working its way through my blood.

I wince as pain blooms behind my eyes. My temples throb. My mouth feels dry, like I’ve been chewing sand. Sweat clings to my skin, and everything inside me feels stretched thin. Too stretched. If I speak, I’ll split open. I feel a strange ache. It settles deep somewhere beneath the ribs. A heavy, quiet hurt that lingers with no need to shout.

Around me, the room settles into shape.

I see Lala and Bethany first. They sit beside me, their faces drawn, their worry tucked just beneath their polite, tight smiles. It’s the way someone looks when they’re trying not to fall apart in front of you. Their concern was so obvious for anyone to see. Amelia is beside me, her hand on my arm, her voice low and steady. I can’t hear her words, but her touch keeps me grounded. 

Dawn moves back and forth across the room, muttering to herself. She crosses her arms and takes fast steps. She’s all movement and nerves. The strippers are gone. The party has dissolved into something else entirely.

I look around, and that’s when I realise Jenna is nowhere to be seen. My throat feels sore. “Where’s Jenna?”

The girls exchange glances.

I sit up straighter. “Please don’t tell me she called Edward... Or that fake bitch.”

Amelia exhales and rubs my back gently. “She didn’t call anyone. But... she went all Mayweather.”

I stare at her. “What?”

“We all saw the video at once,” she says, brushing hair from my cheek. “An unknown number sent it to everyone of us. I opened mine first, but Jenna saw it over my shoulder. She didn’t even hesitate. Threw her phone straight across the room and started shouting.”

Bethany covers her mouth to stop a laugh. Lala hides behind her hand.

“She screamed something about murder. I think she said she was going to rip his lungs out through his spine,” Amelia continues. “Then she ran into the hallway in nothing but her bridesmaid lingerie and one heel.”

“She tried to order an Uber to the hotel,” Dawn adds. “The strippers had to restrain her. One of them used his toy handcuffs. She bit him.”

“She’s locked in the bathroom right now,” Bethany says. “We gagged her with the feather boa.”

I don’t know what comes over me, but I laugh. It’s loud and sharp, and it bubbles out of my chest. Everyone stares at me for a second, frozen and unsure. Then Amelia lets out a snort. Bethany giggles. Lala joins in. Dawn finally cracks and leans against the wall, laughing into her hands.

It feels like something breaks open inside me. All the pain, all the shock, all the tension rip at the seams, and I laugh until my stomach hurts. And just as quickly, the laughter changes. I’m crying now. Full on, shoulders heaving, nose-running sobs. The kind that makes your eyes swell and your chest hitch like a toddler who missed naptime. My face is red. My voice is ragged. I feel like I’ve just crashed through every stage of grief in thirty seconds.

“I probably look like a tomato,” I gasp between sobs.

“You look beautiful,” Amelia whispers, wiping my cheeks with a cool cloth.

“I sound like a goose who smokes.”

“That’s just trauma vocals,” Dawn says, trying not to laugh.

Bethany keeps passing me tissues, one after the other, like she’s working in triage. “Let it out, babe. You’ve earned this.”

I hug myself. My arms wrap around my waist like I’m trying to hold my insides together. I’ve never felt more exposed, more unraveled, and yet...these women. They’re here. They’ve always been here. They didn’t abandon me or come up with excuses when the truth came down. They stayed.

Amelia kisses my forehead. “Fiona. What do you want to do?”

I meet her gaze through the haze of my tears.

She hesitates, then asks softly, “Will you still go through with the wedding tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” I echo. “What do you mean, tomorrow?”

Lala bites her lip worriedly and glances at the others. “Fiona... it’s past midnight.”

My chest tightens again, but for a different reason. It hadn’t even occurred to me that the world didn’t pause the moment I saw Edward’s betrayal.

“The wedding,” Lala says again, her voice gentle. “It’s tomorrow.”

I stay quiet. My mind is trying to catch up. Everything around me feels too loud and too still at the same time.

They’re all looking at me. Waiting. Each of them standing and sitting there like they’d follow me off a cliff if I asked. No one says a word.

I wipe my face with the edge of a towel. My voice cracks as I speak. “Just to be sure... none of you called anyone, right?”

They all shake their heads at once. “No.”

I take a breath. My chest rises, then falls. I pull my lingerie strap back up over my shoulder and sit a little straighter.

“Alright then,” I say. “We have a wedding to attend tomorrow.”

They stare at me.

Amelia looks at me stunned. “Wait. Are you serious?”

I nod. “Hair. Makeup. Wedding dress. Bridesmaid’s dresses. Champagne. We’re doing this.”

Dawn puts a hand to her heart. “Is this revenge, or are we still pretending we might say vows?”

I smile tiredly. “Who says it can’t be both?”

Bethany lets out a whoop and throws her arms around me. Lala wipes a tear from her cheek. “You are the strongest woman I know.”

I look at them, really look, at these women who’ve held me together when everything else was coming apart. “He’s not the only one who gets an altar moment. This stays between us. All of us.” They nod without a word, and I feel their loyalty tightening in the space between us like a pact we’ll never break.