Chapter 9
Sara did not wear white to the cocktail hour.
She stood in front of the mirror while Abbie zipped her into a sleek pale gold dress that skimmed her body without begging for attention.
The neckline was clean. The back dipped low enough to make a point.
The fabric caught the light like champagne, soft until she moved, then bright.
Her wedding ring remained on her finger. For now.
Abbie stepped back and gave a solemn nod. “You look better than an ironclad prenup.”
Sara stared at her reflection. “I thought we weren’t doing legal detail.”
“This is fashion law.”
Despite everything, Sara laughed.
The sound surprised her. It also helped.
She had spent the afternoon feeling like every version of herself had been peeled open for inspection.
Bride. Wife. Fool. Rich girl. Content prop.
Now, she saw someone else in the mirror: a young woman with red-rimmed eyes hidden by perfect concealer, a wife with proof in her phone, and a bride who had stopped asking permission to be angry.
Abbie came up behind her and fastened Sara’s pearl drop earrings. “You sure about the captions?”
Sara picked up her phone. Brayden’s latest post showed the two of them at the cove, his forehead pressed to hers, the ocean behind them. The caption he had written made her skin crawl.
Day one of forever with the woman who makes every dream real. #EllisEverAfter #HoneymoonHeaven
Sara opened the post from her own account and edited her repost caption.
She deleted: Forever with you.
Then she typed: Some dreams look perfect until you wake up.
Abbie leaned over her shoulder. “Subtle enough to make people curious. Sharp enough to make her sweat.”
Sara posted it. Next, she opened a wedding photo from the reception. Brayden kissing her hand. Brooklyn visible behind him, blurred but present, looking directly at the camera.
Sara typed: Funny what the camera catches when everyone thinks the bride isn’t looking.
Post.
Comments began almost immediately.
Wait what does this mean??
Sara???
Is everything okay?
Why do I feel drama?
Brooklyn in the background ??
Abbie clapped once. “And the villagers have torches.”
Sara turned the phone face down before she could lose nerve.
A knock sounded at the door.
Abbie looked through the peephole, then glanced back. “It’s your fake husband.”
Sara smoothed the front of her dress and nodded.
Brayden walked in smiling, then stopped when he saw her. For a moment, his eyes traveled over her with real appreciation. Heat flickered there, possessive and startled.
“You changed,” he said.
“I did.”
“I thought you were wearing the white dress.”
“I know.”
His gaze moved to the gold fabric, the earrings, the hair Abbie had pinned into soft waves over one shoulder. “You look incredible.”
“Thank you.”
“But the white would’ve matched the montage.”
Sara picked up her clutch. “Then I guess the montage will have to adjust.”
Brayden’s mouth tightened. “What’s going on with your captions?”
Abbie sat on the edge of the bed and crossed one leg over the other. “Literacy?”
He ignored her. “Sara.”
Sara looked at him with the sweet, open expression he had trusted too much. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t do that. People are asking questions.”
“Isn’t engagement good?”
“Not messy engagement.”
“Then maybe people shouldn’t make messes.”
For one second, Brayden’s face showed the first trace of fear.
Then he smiled, stepping closer. “Baby, I know today’s been emotional. Weddings are intense. You’re probably exhausted.”
Abbie rolled her eyes.
Sara held up a hand without looking away from Brayden. “I’m not exhausted.”
“Then what are you?”
Awake, she thought.
But she only said, “Ready for dinner.”
The oceanfront cocktail hour glittered with string lights, champagne towers, and people dressed like they had been cast as background luxury.
The remaining wedding guests mingled with some of Brayden’s influencer crowd and a few guests from Dominic’s cousin’s wedding, whose reception would happen the next day.
The overlap made the resort feel crowded with stories that didn’t belong together.
Sara stepped onto the terrace beside Brayden and felt the shift.
People looked. Not with pity, not yet. With curiosity.
Brooklyn stood near the bar in a cobalt-blue dress that made her look expensive until she opened her mouth. Her eyes flicked to Sara’s dress, then to Brayden’s hand at Sara’s back, then to the phone in Sara’s hand.
Sara hoped she was sweating.
Brayden leaned down. “Smile.”
Sara smiled.
A guest lifted a phone. Another whispered behind a champagne flute. Sara felt the online comments multiplying somewhere beyond the terrace. The idea should have terrified her. Instead, it made her feel less alone. The audience Brayden had invited was becoming the audience he deserved.
Dominic stood near the edge of the terrace with two men from his cousin’s party. He wore a dark jacket over an open-collar shirt, understated and calm amid all the glitter. When his gaze found Sara, he didn’t look at her like she was a scandal.
He looked at her like she was holding her own. He crossed to her when Brayden got pulled away by a resort marketing director. Abbie hovered close enough to intervene but far enough to pretend subtlety.
Dominic’s eyes moved over Sara’s dress, then returned to her face. “You look in control.”
Not beautiful. Not hot. In control.
Sara felt the compliment beneath her skin.
“I’m learning.”
“You’re doing more than that.”
Before she could answer, Brayden laughed too loudly across the terrace. Brooklyn had said something, and his hand touched the back of her chair before he seemed to remember himself and pull away.
Dominic followed Sara’s gaze. Sara expected advice. A warning. Maybe anger. He gave her none of it.
He only said, “Whenever you decide what happens next, make sure you own it.”
Sara looked back at him. “I will.”
Dominic smiled.
Her phone buzzed. There was a new notification from Brooklyn. Sara opened it.
Brooklyn had posted a story of the cocktail hour, panning over the terrace until Brayden appeared in the frame. The caption floated over him in pale pink letters.
Some girls inherit the life. Some girls inspire the man.
Sara stared at it, then sent it to Abbie. Across the terrace, Abbie looked at her phone, then slowly lifted her gaze to Brooklyn with the expression of a woman choosing a weapon.
Sara put her phone away. Brooklyn had just handed her another match, to burn it all down.