The Prank That Backfired

I saw it—Gideon Salton taking cash from his buddies, one after another.

That was when it clicked: I was just the punchline in some bet.

The ones who lost laughed first, then rolled their eyes like I was the idiot.

"Madison Montclaire, do you even get how much I lost 'cause of you? Use your brain for once."

"We've told you a million times—Gideon's way outta your league. You really thought he'd marry you?"

"He's played you, what, eight, ten times? And you STILL fall for it? You're hopeless."

I bit my lip so hard it stung, fingers digging into my own skin.

Gideon, done raking in the cash, strolled back like nothing.

"What's wrong, Madison? Not happy?"

Then he turned to his crew.

"Hey, chill out. It's Madison's big day. Don't pick on the birthday girl."

For a second, I almost thought he grew a conscience.

Then he fished a bill from his pocket and held it out.

"Thanks for the thousand, babe. Here—five bucks. Go get a cupcake or something. Happy birthday."

The group cracked up again.

"Gideon, you're too sweet. Careful, she might fall for you AGAIN!"

"You see that dress? Girl's been planning your wedding since forever. Dream big, huh?"

If this was the old me, I'd be in tears—begging him to quit, asking him not to do this again.

This time, I took the five bucks.

"Thanks. Filing fee's thirty-five—I'm short four. We'll call it your contribution."

Gideon froze, then laughed like I was comedy gold.

"Madison, did you leave your brain at home? You really think I'd marry you? I'm messing with you. You're beyond pathetic."

He shook his head, like just looking at me was gross.

Even though I'd braced for it, his words still sliced right through.

Truth is, I found out about the bet last night.

He called me, sounding weirdly soft. "Madison, meet me at city hall at nine. Got a big birthday gift for you. Dress up a little—wear that new wedding dress. Bring your documents. Don't be late."

I hung up with my heart racing.

I'd just posted about trying on and buying a wedding dress.

Did he see it and decide to marry me?

Not long after, someone sent me a video.

Gideon was showing my post to his buddies. "What's this even mean?"

One of them jumped in, "She's desperate. Almost thirty and freaking out—this is her way of begging."

Another added, "She's just jealous Gideon's got a new girl. That post? Straight-up attention grab."

His new girlfriend was Olivia Cooper—an heiress with a fancy background.

Gideon worshipped her.

He shook his head. "Getting tied down to someone like that? Nightmare. Let's make a bet. One call from me, and she'll show up at city hall in that dress. Wanna see a clown in a wedding gown?"

Someone cracked up. "And if you lose? Let Olivia dance for us."

The laugh barely left his mouth before Gideon decked him.

His face went stone cold. "You got a death wish? Don't even say Olivia's name."

Olivia was everything to him—off-limits, even as a joke.

And me? I was just the clown in his game. Free to humiliate however he liked.

By the time the video ended, my chest ached.

Tears hit the screen, smudging his smug, grinning face.

I wiped my eyes. And the phone.

Stared straight at him.

This was the best friend I'd loved for eight years.

He knew exactly how much I cared—so he knew exactly where to hit.

He'd clearly forgotten those old promises.

"Madison, if you're still single at thirty, I'll marry you."

Well, guess what? I'm thirty today. And I am getting married.

Just not to him.