Olivia “How do I look?” Liam’s eyes glint as he takes in my gold off-the-shoulder dress that
comes all the way to the floor. My feet are in four-inch stilettos in the same color, which
gives me the height I want for the confrontation to come. On my finger are the Rubedo and
the wedding band, and Mom’s heirloom diamond earrings and necklace glitter on my ears
and throat. I pulled my hair up to ensure nobody will miss the magnificent Whitmore stones.
“Like a queen,” he says. “And you look like my king.” I smile, running my eyes up and down
the sight of him back in formal clothes. Dressed or undressed, the man is simply
devastating. How many women know that underneath his perfect tux is a perfect six-pack?
He raises my hand and kisses the knuckles. “That’s what I aim for.” I check my phone. The
videographers I hired are streaming the wedding and rec eption live, just as instructed. I
smirk at Brielle’s tight mouth and searching gaze. Looking for me? She must be furious that
I’m not there to be mortified as she snatches Tyler from my grasp and marries him in front
of the crowd. But she shouldn’t be so upset. At least Tyler showed up, like he should, in a
rented tux that’s serviceable enough. “Let’s go,” I say, sliding my hand into the crook of his
elbow. A gleaming white limo leaves from the Point Dume mansion. Liam’s eyes are
narrowed, his mouth tight. “You seem more anticipatory than me,” I say, running a soothing
hand along his tense forearm. “I’ve always wanted to punch Tyler. But that wouldn’t be
politic. So this is the second-best option. Can’t believe that bastard conspired with Brielle
to humiliate you.” “I’m sure Brielle’s the one who instigated it.” Liam was stunned when I
told him what Brielle and Tyler planned to do at the wedding. Brielle even insisted that the
wedding invitations only state: Ms. Desmond and Mr. Mercer without the first names. I
went along with it after displaying much reluctance when Brielle, then later Tyler, insisted
that it’s more elegant this way. Liam couldn’t believe it, but I told him it’s a known
pattern—Brielle flutters her lashes, presses her boobs against the guy, and boom, he
ditches me for her. “They must be absolutely blind. And deaf. And definitely dumb.
Whatever the case, it’s disgusting,” Liam said, his voice dripping with contempt. “I feel
sorry for Tyler’s brain cells. Must be terrible, being stuck inside an idiot like him.” The limo
fights the traffic to Beverly Hills. I picked out one of the most expensive hotels—since Hugh
said he’d pay, probably to maintain proper appearances. Or maybe he already knew back
then that the bride swap would happen, so he didn’t mind splurging on Brielle’s wedding.
After all, she’s the one he treats like a daughter; I’m just the piggy bank. “Look, they just
exchanged rings. How cute.” Not the kind of rings I would’ve chosen, and certainly nothing
as incredible as what Liam gave me. But Brielle beams like she just won a billion-dollar
jackpot. Guess the last two decades haven’t bought her good taste. Liam leans over to
glance at the screen. He smells of soap and something clean and male. I surr eptitiously
inhale and pretend not to be affected. “Clown show,” he remarks. “Y ep. That’s the point.” I
can’t wait until Brielle realizes she’s fallen into my trap by being too clever for her own
good. She thought she could trample me any time without consequence. Now she’s going to
pay. And she’ll know what kind of consequences await people like her, who covet things
that don’t belong to them. The limo doesn’t arrive in Beverly Hills until the crowd’s moved
to the outdoor pool for an open cocktail hour. The driver pulls in and a uniformed staff
member rushes to open the door. Liam st eps out and extends a hand. I look at it, then smile
up at him with gratitude. He’s always extending a hand to me, never asking any
questions. I still don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such support, or how I can really
compensate him. Regardless, I take his fingers in mine and climb out. After smoothing my
skirt, I loop my arm around his. “Are you ready to go get ‘em, Mrs. Kingswood?” “Oh, I’ve
been ready for twenty years.” I press a quick kiss on his cheek because that seems the least
of what he deserves. “Thank you.” His eyes soften. “No need. It’s my duty as your husband
to back you up.” My heart knocks against my chest as I hear something he hasn’t said:
You’ll never have to fight alone, Olivia. Exc ept I don’t want him to walk my path—it’s too
cold, too ugly. “Let’s go.” I turn my head, my chin raised. We walk together, our heads held
high, like we own the place. The hotel staff recognize me from numerous appointments I’ve
had. Deena tried to butt in and insist on decorations and setup she thought were best, but
the hotel staff shot her down. Unlike her, the hotel has standards. They aren’t serving Opus
One with the caviar, even if she screams her demands. Sure enough, the cocktail hour is
progressing with a proper menu and pairing and So Cal glitz. A hint of nouveau riche, but
that’s expected from the likes of Hugh and Deena, both desperate to fit in. “Olivia! Didn’t
realize you’d be coming so late. What a pleasant surprise,” a man says. A little too friendly,
a little too smooth. He owns a Lamborghini dealership in the city and is good friends with
Hugh, who has never seen a Lamborghini he didn’t want to buy. The only thing in the way is
the trust’s limit—although it technically gives him a million, ten percent is automatically set
aside for my use. After Deena and Brielle burn however much they feel entitled to, there
isn’t enough left to buy a new Lambo every year. “Hello, Winston.” Despite his words, he
isn’t surprised. Hugh must have made up some plausible story to explain my absence.
“Liam,” he says to my husband, eyebrows rising high. Liam merely nods with a small frown.
“You seem to be doing well.” Winston gives a socially polite smile to Liam. “Hugh said you
wouldn’t be able to come.” I want to check the video to see what lies he spewed to paint me
the villain, unable to witness “her sister’s happiness.”
“Why wouldn’t we, even if this place does have a particular stench that’s difficult to
overcome?” Liam remarks. Winston flinches, then surr eptitiously sniffs himself. Other
guests begin to notice us. Liam isn’t an easy man to overlook, with his six-five frame
towering over people. Not to mention he has a grace and presence that effortlessly
commands attention. From the other side of the bar, Deena senses the change in
atmosphere, the shifting buzz in the area. The red in Hugh’s cheeks drains so fast, it’s like
his face is a toilet somebody just flushed. I smile coldly. Guess he has the guts to do the
deed, but not the balls to face the aftermath. Very much like how he cheated on Mom, then
had Deena and Brielle do the dirty work of confronting Mom when he wasn’t around. But
probably he expected me to show up hysterical, frantic with the idea that I was losing my
fiancé. That way he could claim I’m out of my mind— or worse—and might even attempt to
control the hundred thousand I get from the trust each year. Just then the bride and groom
return from their photography session. Tyler is grinning like he just won the lottery.
Probably feels like it, too. Brielle glows. Bet she’s high on “beating Olivia” again. Would’ve
been better if I’d come sooner but still good enough that she snagged the prize— a
clean-cut private wealth management advisor, such an impressive- sounding man,
somebody you can pull out like a black Am Ex when you want to casually dazzle others.
Brielle’s eyes flash, and her mouth curves into a malicious smile. She glides over in the
mermaid wedding gown I picked out four months ago specifically because it would make
her look twenty pounds heavier around her hips and thighs. “I can’t believe you’re late to
your own wedding, Olivia.” Her voice rings in the air, just loud enough for me, Liam and
Tyler to hear. Liam stiffens, but doesn’t say a word as he shifts, placing himself protectively
between me and Brielle without undermining what I’m about to unleash. “My wedding?” I
cock an eyebrow, then eye her dress meaningfully. “I had to put this on and follow through
to save the family’s dignity.” I stifle a laugh. Hugh’s family never had any to begin with.
“What’s so funny?”
“Was it ever my wedding?” I flick my eyes at Tyler, standing behind her. She places her
hands on her hips. “Wasn’t it?” “Hugh is paying, so...” I shrug. He’s your dad, not mine.
“Doesn’t matter who’s paying.” Sneering, she leans closer. “You lost. Again.” “Did I?”
“Don’t act superior. You think you’re special because you grew up in a big fancy mansion
and had a pony?” She snorts. “You’ll always lose to me. You can never beat me, Olivia.
Never. I’ve got your house, your man, and soon I’ll find a way to get your money too.” Each
of her words plunges into me like a blade. She’s taken more than the house and the man.
She’s taken my family, my childhood—and most importantly the ability to give and receive
love. I maintain my bland smile despite the blood dripping from the wounds she’s inflicted.
“Are you finished?” Something on her face cracks. Liam flicks his thumb. Something flies
through the air, and Tyler catches it out of reflex, then frowns at the boring ring in his palm.
This was the only thing Liam asked of me when I told him about my plan for the day. I wrap
my hand around his arm, then shift it to show everyone my finger. The Rubedo sparkles
under the light. Brielle stares for a moment, then turns white. “You’re married?” I nod.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Tyler Mercer,” I purr. “May you have all the fortune and hundreds of
children and grandchildren.”