Chapter 1

...

Dorothy Bryant's pupils contracted, her body stiffening. She opened her mouth to explain, but Rob Ross's hand remained possessively draped around her waist.

"You're as sweet as you were ten years ago," he said playfully.

Dorothy shoved him away and stumbled toward me, her words spilling out in a frantic rush. "Finn, please don't misunderstand the situation. I had too much to drink tonight. I thought it was you I was kissing."

She shot a glance over her shoulder, and behind her, several prominent figures from the elite circle stepped forward, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Take it easy, Finn," one said. "The lighting in the room is dim. It's an honest mistake anyone could make."

I sized up Rob, whose features and overall build did resemble mine somewhat.

He raised an eyebrow with provocation, as if declaring, "You lost. She's mine, and she always will be."

I couldn't suppress the cold laugh that escaped my lips. "If she can mistake you for me so easily, then by all means, why don't the two of you take the altar tomorrow instead?"

Dorothy's face darkened. "It was nothing more than a single mistake that any woman could make under the circumstances. If you're going to throw a tantrum, at least choose the right moment! I broke up with him ten years ago. He just returned to the country, and you're causing this scene? How is he supposed to live with this? I never knew you were this petty."

The guests exchanged silent glances, knowing it was Rob who had initiated the flirtation, and Dorothy had eagerly followed his lead.

Pitying, almost sympathetic glances now rained down on me from all directions.

As Dorothy's anger boiled over, Rob flashed me a grin. "Dorothy gave me her heart when she was 18. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself. You insisted on waiting until the wedding night. Have you ever stopped to consider how difficult these past few years have been for her, holding back like that?"

My laugh grew colder, edged with ice.

A flicker of guilt crossed Dorothy's eyes, but it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, erased by Rob's provocative words.

She regarded me with growing impatience, utterly convinced that I would eventually explode in a jealous fit.

From the very beginning of our relationship, we had made a solemn promise to each other. We would save our most precious first experiences for our wedding night.

Whenever passion threatened to carry us further, and she tried to push past that boundary, I had always gently but firmly refused.

I had attempted to ease her frustrations in other ways, but those efforts only ever earned me hysterical outbursts of anger and an endless barrage of accusations.

She would insist that she already saw me as her future husband and lifelong partner, that she was more than ready to give herself to me completely.

She would argue that since we were going to marry anyway, sooner or later made no difference.

No matter how eloquently or persistently she pleaded, the strict moral upbringing instilled in me by my family always held me to that line.

During our most heated arguments, I had even threatened to end the relationship entirely.

Yet every time, all it took was one thoughtful gift from her or a single softly spoken word of concern, and I would come crawling back, forgiving everything like the lovesick fool I was.

The person who fell in love first was always destined to be the one in the weaker position, but that ended tonight.

Dorothy hadn't merely cheated on me. She had been lying to my face for the past three years, pretending to uphold the very promise she had already shattered long ago.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my father without another word. My voice remained calm yet unmistakably resolute. "Dad, I need to change tomorrow's bride. Yeah, Dorothy cheated on me with her ex-boyfriend."