He Cheated on the Honeymoon (Newlywed Newly Betrayed #1)

Chapter 1

Sara Archmont woke to the sound of the ocean and the soft glitter of sunlight moving across white silk sheets. For one perfect second, she forgot to be nervous.

The villa doors stood open to the private terrace, letting in the warm salt breeze and the hush of waves rolling beneath the cliffside resort.

Her wedding dress hung on the wardrobe door across the room, a cloud of ivory satin and pearl-beaded lace that looked almost unreal in the morning light.

On the nightstand, her bouquet rested in a crystal vase, the white roses already opening wider, as if even the flowers were still celebrating.

She turned her left hand slowly on the pillow. The ring caught the light.

Mrs. Brayden Ellis.

The thought made her smile before she could stop herself.

It felt too grown-up, too beautiful, too big for her body.

She was twenty-three years old, married less than twenty-four hours, and lying in a honeymoon villa that looked like something from a magazine spread.

The kind of place where every surface gleamed, every curtain moved like silk in the breeze, and every view seemed designed to make a woman believe the rest of her life could be this beautiful.

The other side of the bed was empty. Sara touched the sheet beside her.

They were cool. Her smile softened, but it didn’t vanish.

Brayden was probably filming. He’d warned her before they went to sleep that he wanted to catch the sunrise for a gratitude reel.

Their followers loved “real moments,” he said.

The morning after the wedding. The groom reflecting on love.

The ocean behind him. Something heartfelt. Something aspirational.

Their followers.

She still wasn’t used to that. Sara had grown up with privacy, with family friends who had homes behind gates and names that appeared in charity programs but not gossip accounts.

Brayden lived differently. He believed visibility was power.

He believed every beautiful thing became more valuable when people saw it.

She was trying to learn. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Abbie: Open this door before I die in the hallway. I brought coffee.

Sara laughed softly and sat up, dragging the sheet to her chest. Her body ached pleasantly from dancing, smiling, and being kissed under fireworks while three hundred white orchids swung above the beach pavilion. Another buzz.

Abbie: Also your husband is already outside doing influencer jazz hands and I have concerns.

Sara rolled her eyes, but the words pricked something small inside her. She pulled on her short bridal robe, the one embroidered with Mrs. Ellis in pale blue thread because Brayden said it would be cute for content. Then she walked across the cool marble floor and opened the door.

Abigail Brewer swept in wearing oversized sunglasses, a wrinkled champagne-colored bridesmaid slip dress, and the expression that had terrified weak males since grade school.

Abbie had been born with resting bitch face, but if she was your friend she’d defend you with everything she had, no questions asked. That’s what Sara loved about her.

“I have survived your wedding,” Abbie announced, holding up two iced coffees from the resort café. “Barely. My feet are ruined, my liver is filing a lawsuit, and I saw your new husband making love to a ring light at six fifteen in the morning.”

Sara took one coffee and stepped aside. “Good morning to you too.”

“Don’t good morning me. Why was Brayden outside before breakfast with six influencers and no wife?”

“He wanted sunrise content.”

“He got married yesterday.”

“That’s why he wanted sunrise content.”

Abbie lowered her sunglasses enough to show her eyes. “Do you hear yourself?”

Sara sipped her coffee to avoid answering too quickly.

Abbie had never hated Brayden, exactly. She had smiled in the photos, cried during the vows, and threatened three groomsmen when they got drunk near the cake table.

She’d been the perfect maid of honor but she always watched Brayden like a hawk. A very suspicious hawk.

“He’s excited,” Sara said. “This weekend is huge for him.”

“It was supposed to be huge for both of you. Because, again, wedding.”

“It is.” Sara moved to the vanity and looked at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was loose around her shoulders, softer than usual from the ocean air.

Her face looked younger without the makeup, flushed with leftover happiness and not enough sleep.

“He’s proud. He keeps saying people want to see a real love story. ”

Abbie’s mouth tightened. “Sara, your wedding had a media list.”

Sara turned. “It wasn’t a media list.They’re his friends.”

“They’re content creators he met at a brand dinner, babe. They do not qualify as friends.”

Sara set down the coffee. “I wanted him to feel included. My family paid for most of this. He already felt weird about that.”

“He felt weird enough to invite thirty strangers with tripods?”

“They weren’t strangers.”

Abbie stared at her.

Sara sighed. “Some of them were strangers.”

“Thank you.”

The sharpness in Abbie’s voice made Sara look away.

She hated this, the little pinch of defensiveness she felt whenever Brayden came up.

She hated feeling like she had to translate him to people who loved her.

He wasn’t using her. He wasn’t shallow. He was ambitious, and maybe ambition looked different when someone hadn’t been born into families where doors opened before you knocked.

Brayden had fought for everything he had. He’d told her that so many times.

“After brunch, it’ll calm down,” Sara said, partly to Abbie and partly to herself. “Most people are leaving today. The welcome party, the wedding, the farewell events, all of that is almost over. Brayden promised that once brunch ends, it’s just us. Official honeymoon. No more crowds.”

“No more crowds,” Abbie repeated. “From the man who invited an audience to his vows.”

Sara gave her a look.

Abbie lifted both hands. “I’m done. For now.”

The farewell brunch was set on the resort’s upper terrace, where white umbrellas bloomed over linen-covered tables and the sea glittered below like expensive jewelry.

Most of the wedding guests were leaving that afternoon.

A few family friends would stay through dinner.

Abbie had planned to fly out after brunch.

Abbie had decided to stay one more night.

“You’ll be bored without me,” Abbie said as they walked toward the terrace.

“It’s my honeymoon.”

“Exactly. You’ll be bored with him.”

Sara nudged her with her shoulder. “That’s rude.”

“That’s marriage.”

The terrace was already busy. Sara’s parents stood near the champagne bar, elegant and composed, accepting compliments on the wedding like they had personally negotiated with the weather.

Brayden was at the far edge of the terrace with a phone in his hand and a half-circle of influencers around him.

He looked gorgeous in a cream linen shirt and tan trousers, his dark blond hair arranged in that careful, effortless way his followers always praised.

When he saw Sara, his face brightened for the camera first. Then for her.

“There she is,” he called, turning the phone toward her. “My wife.”

A few people clapped and cooed. Sara felt heat rise in her face, but she smiled because he looked so happy. Brayden crossed the terrace and kissed her cheek, lingering just long enough for the phone to catch the angle.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured.

“So do you,” she said, and meant it.

He grinned. “Tell everyone how married life feels.”

Sara glanced at the phone. Thousands of people would see this later, maybe more if Brayden edited it right. She tried to find the breezy, romantic version of herself he loved online.

“It feels like waking up inside a dream,” she said.

Brayden’s smile widened. “That’s my girl.”

My girl. Not my wife. She hated herself for noticing.Across the terrace, Abbie made a tiny gagging motion into her mimosa. Sara hid a smile, then saw the woman standing behind Brayden.

Brooklyn Miller was hard to miss. She had the kind of beauty built for cameras: sleek honey-blonde hair, bronze skin, glossy lips, and a white bikini top under an open resort shirt that fell off one shoulder.

Oversized sunglasses rested on her head.

Gold hoops flashed when she tilted her face toward Brayden and she was wearing his hoodie.

Not just any hoodie. The pale blue one from the groom’s welcome bags, custom embroidered with Ellis Wedding Weekend over the heart. Brayden had worn it during the bonfire party two nights before. Sara remembered because he’d pulled her into his lap and said the color matched her eyes.

Sara’s smile faltered.

Brayden followed her gaze and laughed too quickly. “Oh, right. Brooklyn stole my hoodie last night because the beach got cold. We were all freezing after the after-party.”

Brooklyn lifted her sunglasses and smiled at Sara.

“Hope you don’t mind,” she said. “Brayden said I could keep it. Apparently it looks better on me anyway.”

The terrace noise didn’t fade. The ocean kept shining. Someone laughed near the buffet. A waiter poured champagne into a flute with a soft golden splash.

Sara looked at her brand-new husband. Brayden was still smiling.