“Yes, please.” I forced a reassuring smile. “I’ll be ready to go down in fifteen minutes, I promise.”
Reluctantly, they left, Annabelle throwing me one last meaningful look before closing the door.
Alone, I let the smile fall away. I stood and walked to the window, gazing down at the gardens below, where white chairs had been arranged in perfect rows. An improvised altar stood decorated with fresh flowers, the pergola wrapped in climbing vines and delicate lights that would glow once the sun began to set.
It was perfect. Like a dream.
A dream I had once imagined living with Alex.
Alex. Strange how his name now felt so distant, almost belonging to another life. I closed my eyes, trying to summon the pain, the hurt, that raw sense of betrayal that had once been my constant companion. But it was like trying to hold sand in my hands-it slipped away, disappearing.
“You were always so plain,” Elise had told me on that fateful day. “You never had anything special.”
I looked at my reflection again. The woman staring back at me didn’t look plain. She didn’t look ordinary. She looked… transformed. And not just by the dress, the makeup, or the hairstyle.
There was something in my eyes-a strength that hadn’t been there before. A resolve born in these past months, among ancient vineyards and midnight deals, among stolen kisses in dark cellars and meaningful glances over wine glasses.
It wasn’t Alex who filled my thoughts in the quiet hours of the night anymore. It was Christian. His rare but genuine smile, the vulnerability he sometimes let slip, his devotion to his grandfather, his passion for his family’s legacy.
The thought hit me like a physical blow: I was developing feelings for Christian Kensington. Real, deep, dangerous feelings.
“Oh no,” I whispered to the empty room. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”
A soft knock at the door broke my moment of realization. Thinking it was Annabelle again, I called out without turning around, “I just need one more minute, please.”
“Not even a moment for an old friend?”
The voice froze my blood. I spun around sharply to find Elise standing in the doorway, elegant in a teal dress that looked like it had been made for her. Her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless-the picture of sophistication that had always made me feel inadequate beside her.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, unable to hide the surprise in my voice.
She stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. In her hand, a glass of red wine swayed dangerously as she moved through the room, her eyes scanning every detail.
“Of course I’d be at a Kensington wedding,” she said casually. “Elite PR represents several of their businesses. It’s work.”
She stopped in front of me, her gaze traveling over my dress with a critical appraisal.
“Besides, I thought it only fair. You came to my wedding, now I’m here at yours.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Poetic justice, don’t you think?”
“Justice would be you not even walking through the front door.”
Elise laughed, the sound so familiar and yet strangely foreign now.
“Always so dramatic, Zoey.” She stepped closer, her expensive perfume invading my space. “Although I’ll admit I’m impressed. You really did manage to climb up in life after Alex.”
I held my ground, refusing to show how much her words could still wound me.
“This isn’t about ‘climbing up.’ It’s about finding someone who respects me.”
“Oh, darling.” Elise gave my arm a mockingly sympathetic pat. “Do you really believe Christian Kensington respects you? That this is real?”
My stomach twisted. How could she possibly know?
“If you came here to throw me off on my wedding day…”
“I came to give you some friendly advice.” Elise leaned in, her face now serious. “You’re making a mistake, Zoey. Christian Kensington won’t make you happy. He doesn’t even know what happiness is.”
“You don’t know him.”
“And do you?” Her gaze was sharp, cutting.
I felt heat rise up my neck.
“Our relationship is none of your business.”
“Oh, but it is.” She smiled-a cold smile that reminded me of Isabelle. “Because when this inevitably blows up-
and it will-Elite PR will be the one cleaning up the mess. And frankly, I’ve got better things to do.”
}
I stepped back, needing distance.
“Elise, please leave.”
Something hardened in her expression.
“You never learn, do you? Always thinking you belong in places you don’t, with people way above your level.”
“Get out!” I repeated, my voice sharper this time.
Elise shrugged, deliberately casual.
“Fine. But remember what I said when he leaves you.” She turned as if to go, then paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Oh, and one more thing…”
The movement was so fast I had no time to react. With one fluid flick of her wrist, Elise threw the contents of her glass straight at me. The red wine splattered across my dress like a bloodstain, seeping through the pristine white fabric, trickling down from the bodice to the skirt.
I froze, horrified, staring at the disaster spreading across my gown.
“Oops,” Elise said with mock innocence. “Looks like you’ll be needing a new dress. Too bad there’s only…” she checked her watch theatrically, “twenty minutes until the ceremony.”
“I’m going to kill that bitch. I swear to God I’ll kill her,” Annabelle declared the second she burst into the room, slamming the door shut behind her. “How dare she?”
I sat at the edge of the bed, staring miserably at the ruined dress. The red wine stain had spread across the bodice and down part of the skirt, turning the pristine white into a scarlet disaster. My hands trembled as I fought to breathe normally.
“We need to focus, Annie,” I managed, swallowing the knot in my throat. “There’s no time for revenge right now.”
Annabelle stopped pacing, looking from the dress to me, assessing.
“What are the chances we get another dress?”
“Zero.” I shook my head, panic clawing at my chest. “Not even Vivian could pull off a miracle like that on such short notice.”
My sister bit her lip, her brain clearly working at full speed. As I watched her search for a solution, an idea began to take shape in my own mind.
“What if, instead of trying to hide the stain, we made it… intentional?” I suggested, a sudden spark of inspiration hitting me.
Annabelle frowned, confused.
“What do you mean?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.