Chapter 3: Foreshadowing

The house smelled like citrus polish and old roses—Margot's signature touch. It was the scent of control. Every surface gleamed, every curtain was perfectly steamed, and not a single throw pillow dared look out of place.

I’d come home to grab a few things from my old bedroom. Or what used to be my bedroom, before Margot transformed it into her personal study-slash-showroom for overpriced interior design catalogs.

Now, it barely resembled the place where I used to paste glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling and cry into my pillows when my dad missed another school recital.

“Scarlett,” Margot called from the bottom of the stairs, voice cool and smooth like iced tea with too much lemon. “You’re here early.”

I winced. I hadn’t told anyone I was coming. Mistake number one.

“I just needed to pick up a few things,” I said, walking down the stairs slowly, as if I could somehow shrink the moment.

She stood in the foyer in her tailored cream dress and pearl earrings, the picture of East Side elegance. Everything about her was pristine—from her sculpted bob to her faint, practiced smile. The kind of smile that didn’t reach her eyes. It never did.

“I hope you’re not overworking yourself,” she said, stepping into my path with the soft precision of a lioness blocking a gazelle. “Brides can get… fragile before the big day.”

I returned her smile with the same politeness. “I’m doing fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You looked a bit pale in that Page Six photo yesterday.”

I blinked. “You read Page Six now?”

“Oh, darling.” She tilted her head. “Everyone reads Page Six when it’s about you.”

There it was—the dig. Margot never attacked directly. She didn't need to. She wielded words like scalpels, always smiling as she cut.

I brushed past her and walked toward the sitting room. “Ethan and I have just been busy. Last-minute details.”

“Mm.” She followed, her heels clicking softly against the marble. “I imagine he has quite a lot on his plate.”

“He does.”

“Of course.” She perched on the edge of the chaise lounge like she was posing for a magazine cover. “And Vanessa’s been such a help, hasn’t she?”

My stomach tightened. I turned slowly. “She’s been… involved.”

Margot laughed lightly. “Oh, don’t be modest. She’s practically co-planning this wedding. I’ve always admired her initiative.”

I didn’t answer. Mostly because I wasn’t sure if I could trust the words forming on my tongue.

Margot crossed one leg over the other, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “You know,” she said casually, “when I married your father, everyone expected someone else.”

I blinked. “What?”

“His colleagues. His friends. Even your grandparents. They all assumed he’d marry his secretary at the time. A very sweet girl. Submissive. Safe.”

I had no idea what this had to do with anything, but I nodded slowly. “Okay…”

“But then—suddenly—there was me.” Her smile widened. “A surprise. A shift. And everyone had to adapt.”

I narrowed my eyes slightly. “Why are you telling me this?”

“No reason.” She waved a hand as if brushing away dust. “I’ve just been thinking about how quickly things can change. You can plan something for months, years even, and then—poof.”

She snapped her fingers.

“A single conversation, and everything’s different.”

The knot in my stomach twisted tighter.

“Is something going to change?” I asked, keeping my voice calm, even though my skin prickled with unease.

She looked at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled again—soft, enigmatic.

“I just think it’s wise to… remain flexible,” she said. “Life has a way of surprising us.”

That wasn’t an answer. Not really. But Margot never gave real answers. Only riddles dressed as advice.

I crossed my arms. “If you know something I don’t, I’d appreciate it if you just said it.”

“Oh, Scarlett.” She stood, brushing invisible lint from her dress. “You always were too emotional. It’s not a criticism, dear. Just an observation.”

Translation: She wasn’t going to tell me anything.

Before I could respond, she started toward the hallway. “I do hope you’re not pinning all your hopes on this marriage,” she called over her shoulder. “Men are complicated. Even the charming ones.”

I stared after her, heart thudding.

What the hell was that?

Avery called as I was walking back to my car.

“Did you get your veil?”

“I got it,” I said, sliding into the driver’s seat and shutting the door. “But now I wish I hadn’t gone at all.”

“That bad?”

“Worse. Margot gave me one of her cryptic speeches. Something about how life changes suddenly and not to get too attached to plans.”

Avery was quiet for a beat. “Okay. That’s terrifying.”

“Right?”

“What exactly did she say?”

I recited it back to her as best I could—every offhand comment, every weird pause, every time her smile didn’t quite match her eyes.

“She knows something,” I said. “I just don’t know what. But it felt like a warning.”

“You think she’s trying to prepare you?”

“No,” I said slowly. “I think she’s enjoying watching me guess.”

Avery exhaled sharply. “This woman’s worse than every Bond villain combined.”

I rubbed my temple. “She was practically glowing when she said it. Like… like I was about to step into something and she couldn’t wait to see me fall.”

“You want me to poison her champagne at the rehearsal dinner?”

I snorted. “Not yet.”

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was looming. Like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, the ground beneath my heels beginning to crack.

And Margot? She was the type to hand me a pair of wings and tell me I’d fly—right before pushing me off.

That evening, I sat on my bed with the veil spread across my lap. It was soft, delicate, and hand-embroidered with the same lace as my gown. It should’ve been the finishing touch. The fairytale.

Instead, I just stared at it, feeling... cold.

Something was going to change. I could feel it in my bones. The universe had gone quiet around me, like it was holding its breath.

And I didn’t know if it was trying to protect me—or warn me.