~CHASE~
My world shook.
One second I was standing in the back of the packed church, half-listening to the music and the soft murmurs of the elite crowd, and the next I was staring at the woman who had once been the center of my entire existence walking down the aisle on the arm of a man I hated more than anyone on this earth.
Blair.
My Blair.
Except she wasn’t mine anymore. She was walking toward Grayson fucking Shaw in a gown that looked like it cost more than my entire contract, her hair swept up, diamonds glittering at her throat, and that soft, almost shy smile she used to save only for me.
My lungs forgot how to work.
Beside me, my wife’s fingers dug into my forearm so hard I felt the bite of her nails through the sleeve of my suit.
“Chase,” she whispered, voice soft and stunned. “That. . .that can’t be her. Tell me that’s not Blair.”
I couldn’t answer. My throat had closed completely.
The ceremony continued like some sick dream. Grayson stood at the altar looking every bit the smug bastard he was—tall, sharp, expensive.
When Blair reached him, he took her hand like he had every right to it. Like he hadn’t stolen the one person who had ever really known me.
They turned to face the priest.
And then the vows started.
I barely heard the words. All I could see was the way Grayson’s thumb brushed over the back of her hand. The way she looked up at him. The way her lips moved when she said “I do.”
My wife’s voice cut through the haze, low and sharp. “She’s not a billionaire. Blair Monroe was never a billionaire. I looked her up last night after you got that weird invitation. There was nothing. No photos. No social media. Just a name on some old family registry. This has to be a joke. Or a scam.”
I swallowed hard. “I checked too.”
She turned her head sharply. “What?”
“Last night. Monroe has three daughters. One of them named Blair. But there were no pictures anywhere. Nothing recent. Nothing public. I couldn’t prove it was her.” My voice sounded strange even to me—flat, distant. “I told myself it couldn’t be. That the name was just a coincidence.”
The family kept their personal lives locked down. There were no public photographs of the daughters. No social media trails. No easy way to confirm which face belonged to which name. At the time, I had told myself it was a coincidence. A desperate stunt using a famous last name.
Now she was standing at the altar in front of half the league, and the doubt was getting harder to ignore.
The officiant reached the end of the vows.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Blair turned toward Grayson without hesitation. She rose onto her toes and kissed him.
Fuck. I hated it. Seeing her kissing another man. It bothered me more simply because it was that damn Grayson.
I had known her for nine years. Six of those years she had been mine. I had been the one who kissed her in parking lots after late practices. I had been the one she waited for. And now she was kissing another man in front of a room full of people like it meant something to her. Like she wanted that kiss.
I’d tried to hide our relationship when we were dating. Sometimes I made her wear disguises. Other times, I only met her in private. No one knew she was the girl I’d been dating except those extremely close to me.
Sophie made a low, disgusted sound. “Look at her. Acting like she belongs up there. It’s embarrassing.”
I barely heard her.
It was the kind of kiss that said mine in a language everyone in the room understood.
The memories kept on coming.
Late nights in the library when neither of us could sleep. Her laughing into my mouth when I kissed her after practice.
And then I became captain. I started cheating the second I moved up.
The coach’s daughter had started showing up more. Sitting in the stands. Waiting after games. Smiling at me like I was already hers. I told myself I owed her. That the only reason I had the C on my jersey was because of her father’s influence. When she finally said she liked me, I didn’t know how to say no without risking everything I had worked for.
That was the truth I didn’t like examining too closely. Once the C was on my jersey and Sophie began telling me her father had pushed for me because of her, everything shifted. So I married her. I convinced myself it was the practical choice. The smart choice. Blair had always been soft.
Quiet. Easy to keep in the background. Sophie understood the world I was stepping into. She looked the part. She played the part.
Marrying her had felt like securing my future.
Watching Blair kiss Grayson Shaw made that future taste very bitter.
Sophie tugged on my arm again. “Chase. Are you even listening to me?”
“What?”
“I said there’s no way she’s the real Blair Monroe.” Her voice was low like she didn’t want anyone to hear her.
“Look at her. Really look. She’s average. Ordinary. William Monroe’s actual daughter would have been raised in private schools. She would know how to stand in a room like this. That girl up there is the same boring Blair who used to wait for you after practice with coffee in some stupid disguise. She must have switched places with the real one. Or paid someone. Or lied her way into this. There is no universe where that is a billionaire’s daughter.”
I forced my eyes away from the altar for a second. “You think she faked an entire wedding?”
“I think she’s desperate enough to try,” Sophie snapped. “She lost you. She couldn’t handle it. So she attached herself to the one name that would hurt you most and somehow dragged Grayson into it. Maybe his family owes her something and she exploited it. I don’t know. But that is not a billionaire standing up there. I refuse to believe it.”
The crash of the ice sculpture breaking cut through the hall.
I watched Blair and Grayson break apart. Even from the back of the room I could see the way they were breathing. His hand lingered near her before he dropped it. She looked momentarily dazed before turning toward the noise.
Lily Sinclair stood beside the ruined sculpture, face pale with fury.
Sophie sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh no. That’s Lily. She looks like she’s about to lose it. Poor her. This must be so hard for her to watch.”
“Yeah.”
Sophie sighed. “If Grayson is really going through with this, she has a right to be angry. She’s having a hard time. Not us. You’re captain. You’re married to the coach’s daughter. Blair is the one who ended up in some arranged mess with a man who clearly doesn’t want her.”
I nodded, but the words felt hollow.
Because when Blair had looked across the room earlier, just for a second, her eyes had found mine. There had been no pleading in them. No softness. Just a calm look that made me feel like I was the one who had been left behind.
Sophie leaned closer, still watching the altar with open contempt. “I’m telling you, Chase. That girl is a fraud. The real Blair Monroe is probably sitting somewhere laughing while this one plays dress-up in her place. Or maybe the family is using her as a stand-in for appearances. Rich people do things like that. Either way, she is not what she’s pretending to be.”
I stared at Blair as staff hurried to clean the broken ice and the officiant tried to regain control of the room.
Nine years.
Six of them as mine.
And somehow I was the one standing at the back of her wedding, watching another man kiss her so openly without a care in the world.
The jealousy sat there in my chest.
And underneath it, for the first time, a bit of fear.
Because if Sophie was wrong—
If that really was William Monroe’s daughter. . .
Then I hadn’t just betrayed her.
I had destroyed a great opportunity.
“You’re staring,” my wife hissed. “Chase. Stop looking at her like that.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. You’re looking at her the same way you used to when she still thought you were a good guy.” Her voice dropped even lower. “She’s not your anything anymore. She’s Grayson Shaw’s wife. And if she’s faking being a Monroe, then she’s also a liar and a gold digger. Which, honestly, tracks. She always was a little too quiet. A little too careful. Probably planning this the whole time.”
I didn’t answer.
Because part of me—some ugly, desperate part, wanted to believe her. Wanted the woman on that altar to not be a billionaire. Wanted the kiss and the ring and the vows to belong to someone else so the ache in my chest would make sense as something other than pure regret.
I kept on looking. . .staring.
That was Blair.
My Blair.
Married to the one man I had spent the last three seasons trying to destroy on the ice.
The ceremony ended. The priest pronounced them husband and wife. The crowd erupted into applause that felt like it was happening underwater.
My wife’s nails dug in harder. “Unbelievable. She’s really going through with it. Either she’s the best actress I’ve ever seen, or she actually managed to pull off the con of the century. Either way, it’s disgusting.”
I finally found my voice. “Stop.”
She blinked up at me. “What?”
“Stop talking about her like that.”
Her expression flickered—surprise, then irritation. “Are you seriously defending her right now? The girl who just married your biggest rival in front of everyone?”
“I’m not defending anyone.” My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it. “I just. . .need a second.”
I needed a fucking drink. That’s what I needed.
Dex Morgan
Dex works to elevate each story with clean writing, emotional balance, and thoughtful flow for readers.