Prologue

“Let’s gooooo, girls!” Amelia exclaims, leaping onto the bed with the energy of a ten-year-old, her curls bouncing and laughter echoing around the room. We’re in a stunning honeymoon suite at a luxurious resort just outside Miami, and it feels like a dream come true. My heart is still pounding from the moment I stepped inside and they all shouted, “Surprise!” The thrill is electric, and I can’t help but smile as the excitement fills the air!

The girls went all out for the occasion. Soft pink lighting bathed the room, scented candles surrounded it, and a mountain of champagne bottles stacked by the minibar. They’re all wearing adorable nighties, each adorned with a satin sash that reads “Bridesmaid” in cursive gold lettering. Right in the center of the bed, laid out like a heavenly gift, is the most stunning white lingerie I’ve ever seen. It features delicate lace that barely covers anything, satin ribbons, sheer mesh cups, and tiny pearl details that catch the light. Draped across it is a sash that reads “Bride to Be.”

I giggle and reach out to touch it. It feels like silk dipped in dreams. “You guys,” I whisper, spinning around with the lingerie still in my hand. “I have the best friends in the world.”

“Group hug!” I yell, throwing my arms open.

Squeals erupt as the girls pile onto me, shrieking and laughing as we stumble into a tangled mess of limbs, lace, and perfume.

“This suite gives off luxury, rich ex-wife vibes,” Jenna says, flipping her hair like she’s in a shampoo commercial. 

“Can we talk about that bed?” Brianna points, her eyes wide. “You could fit an entire football team in it!”

Amelia winks and replies, “Don’t tempt fate.”

“Did you really not know about this?” Tasha asks, adjusting her sash.

“I swear I did not know! I was completely gobsmacked,” I say, laughing.

“Gobsmacked?” Jenna repeats.

“It means I was utterly speechless. Completely flabbergasted, darling.” I slip into a mock British accent.

“Flabber-what?” Amelia cackles. “You sound like the queen!”

“She’s the queen tonight!” Brianna declares, raising her plastic champagne flute. “To our bride!”

Everyone cheers, and Amelia’s voice rises above the crowd. “It’s time to paaaarrrtttyyyy!”

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. Jenna raises an eyebrow. “Did someone order room service?”

She opens the door and gasps dramatically.

Three men walk in wearing tight police uniforms, complete with fake badges, aviator sunglasses, and smug grins. They are broad-shouldered, muscular, and radiating an unmistakable “I’m here to undress” energy.

I stare for a few seconds before letting out a full-on scream. The girls burst into chaotic laughter, champagne spilling everywhere, while someone shrieks, “Oh my God!” and Amelia practically falls over.

“Oh, these are the arrests I like,” Jenna says, fanning herself with her sash.

One guy pulls out a toy pair of handcuffs and twirls them on his finger. “Who’s been a naughty bride?”

“Oh, I have,” I say without thinking, and everyone howls.

The music rises, the lights fade low, and the whole place seems to wake up at once.

We are having the time of our lives. The music is loud; the champagne is flowing, and our bodies move with wild, unfiltered joy. One stripper has taken off his shirt completely, revealing a tattoo that snakes down his chest and vanishes below his waistband. He picks up Amelia and spins her in the air while she screams with laughter. Another is grinding on Brianna’s lap, all smooth hips and cheeky smiles, while Jenna is recording the entire scene and shrieking, “This is going viral!”

I can hardly catch my breath from laughing.

A sharp, synchronized ding cuts through the music. Then another. Then several more. All our phones light up at the same time. Every single one of us—except Tasha, Brianna and the strippers. The laughter cuts off in an instant. We glance at each other as a strange, heavy silence between us spreads, making my skin prickle. Almost in unison, we reach for our phones. It’s weird how almost every device in the room pinged at once—like an invisible thread just tightened around all of us.

I swipe my screen, not knowing what to expect…maybe a group text or a bridal prank someone thought was hilarious. But then I see the name glowing at the top of the message. My stomach twists hard, as if it knows before my mind catches up.

Naomi Garcia.

My rival. A cutthroat football agent who has made a career out of trying to outshine, outbid, and outmaneuver me in every deal. She has never once offered me congratulations, never sent a word of goodwill in my direction—until this moment.

Fiona... I’m so sorry. You deserve better.

Beneath it is a video. I don’t even realize I have tapped it open until I see him. My heart turns to stone in my chest. There he is. Edward. My Edward. The man I am supposed to marry the day after tomorrow. Shirtless in a hotel room. Kissing another woman against the window. It’s obvious he knows it’s being filmed. The timestamp is from yesterday. His mouth is on her neck. His hands are gripping her thighs. And when she moans his name, it’s loud. It’s clear. Familiar.

I end up dropping my phone on the floor.

I stay still, silent, staring at the carpet as gasps erupt around me. The weight of the moment presses down, thick and suffocating... Someone fumbles for the speaker and the music cuts off mid-beat. The silence rings like a siren.

“Shit! Oh my God,” Amelia whispers. “Fiona...”

“Jesus Christ,” Jenna says, her voice shaking. “That son of a bitch. That motherfucking piece of shit. I am gonna end him. I will ‘unalive’ him!”

“Fucking bastard!” Brianna snaps. “After everything she’s done for him?”

“He’s a pig. A disgusting, lying, selfish pig!” Bethany spits at Brianna.

I feel their hands reaching for me. Touching my arms, my shoulders, someone pulled me gently toward the bed. I hear them talking, but it’s all muffled now, like I’m underwater.

“He doesn’t deserve her.”

“She gave him everything.” 

“Fiona, sweetie, look at me. Please, just breathe,” Dawn says calmly as she soothes my back.

But I can’t. I can’t breathe. My chest tightens. My lungs seize. I wheeze, sucking in quick gasps that don’t reach deep enough. My ears ring. My skin is cold. Everything tilts sideways. It’s like my body is here, but the rest of me is floating just above it, watching from some detached place. I can feel the surrounding panic rising like steam. But inside, everything is still. Empty. Broken.

I am standing inside the ruins of a dream. The tears don’t come. Not yet. What comes first is a stillness so sharp it cuts me open. I thought he loved me. I really, truly thought he was the one.

And now... now I know... But how long has this been going on? Weeks? Months? Years? Centuries?

The room fades. I hear Amelia calling my name again, but she’s too far away. I feel her hand on my cheek. Someone else is rubbing my back. But all I can think about is how he looked in that video. So comfortable. So familiar with someone who wasn’t me.

Darkness swallows everything in the blink of an eye.