Chapter 10
By the time the sun sank behind the resort, everyone knew something was wrong.
Not officially. Not with statements or tears or dramatic exits.
But the air had changed. People glanced at Sara then at Brooklyn.
They watched Brayden laugh too hard and touch Sara too often.
They noticed Abbie smiling like she had already picked burial music.
The gossip account made it worse or better depending on who you were.
Sara was standing near the champagne tower when Abbie thrust her phone in front of her face.
LUXELOVESCANDAL: Trouble in paradise? Newlywed Sara Archmont Ellis just changed two captions after her influencer wedding weekend, and fans are side-eyeing groom Brayden Ellis’s favorite content girl, Brooklyn Miller. ????
Below the caption were side-by-side screenshots: Sara in her wedding dress, Brooklyn blurred behind Brayden, and Brooklyn’s pointed story about inspiring the man.
Sara read the comments with a strange calm.
Not Brooklyn being at the wedding AND the honeymoon events.
Wait wasn’t she wearing his groom hoodie this morning?
Sara’s caption sounds like she knows something.
Brayden always gave performative husband.
Abbie bounced on her toes. “The internet has entered the arena.”
Sara handed back the phone. “Good.”
Brayden appeared beside her a second later, his expression tight beneath his smile. “Can I talk to my wife?”
Abbie looked him up and down. “Legally or fictionally?”
“Abbie,” Sara said.
“What? I’m asking for clarity.”
Brayden ignored her and took Sara’s elbow, guiding her toward the shadowed edge of the terrace. His grip was gentle enough for anyone watching but firm enough that Sara understood the message. She let him lead her because she wanted to see how far he would go.
When they reached a row of potted palms near the steps, he turned on her. “What the hell are you doing?”
Sara looked at his hand on her arm. He released her.
“I’m attending our farewell dinner,” she said.
“Don’t play with me right now.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I’m not the one playing.”
His jaw tightened. “You’re making people think there’s a problem.”
“Is there?”
He stared at her.
For a heartbeat, she thought he might admit something. Not everything. Not enough. But some sliver of truth, maybe, because the room was shifting and the internet was sniffing blood.
Instead, he leaned closer.
“You need to fix this before it gets out of hand,” he said. “Camila already texted me asking if there’s a situation. Do you understand how bad that is?”
“For your sponsor?”
“For us.”
Sara almost smiled. “Funny how those sound the same when you say them.”
His face flushed. “I have worked too hard for you to get insecure over social media nonsense.”
There it was. Insecure. The word he had been circling all weekend.
Sara’s anger sharpened so cleanly it almost felt peaceful. “You think that’s what this is?”
“I think you’re tired and emotional. I think Abbie is in your ear. I think Brooklyn likes attention and you’re letting her get exactly what she wants.”
Sara looked past his shoulder. Dominic stood near the terrace steps, close enough to see Brayden crowding her but not close enough to intervene. His eyes met Sara’s. He gave no signal, no command, no rescue. He was simply there. Sara straightened her spine.
She turned back to Brayden. “Move.”
Brayden blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
His mouth opened slightly. No camera had prepared him for this version of her.
“Sara.”
“I said move.”
He stepped aside.
Sara walked past him, leaving him at the edge of the terrace with his perfect linen shirt and his panic finally showing through.
She didn’t go to Dominic. Not yet. She went to Abbie.
Abbie looked over Sara’s shoulder at Brayden. “Do I need to bite?”
“No.”
“Shame. I skipped appetizers.”
Sara opened her clutch and passed Abbie the small drive. Sara had built the folder. Dominic had only made sure it would play. No hacking. No tricks. Just the things Brayden and Brooklyn had been arrogant enough to leave behind.
“Hold this until the toast,” Sara said.
Abbie’s fingers closed around it. “Sara.”
“He planned a montage.”
“I know.”
“I want the right one to play.”
Abbie’s smile came slowly this time. Not funny. Not sharp. Proud.
“Then the right one plays.”
Sara had chosen the order herself. Hoodie first, because that was where the insult began.
Pool story next, because Brooklyn had wanted to be noticed.
Villa reflection, because that was where Sara’s body had learned the truth.
The champagne and watch photo from before the wedding, because Brayden’s lie hadn’t started on the honeymoon.
The key card, the deleted close-friends story, Brooklyn’s caption, and then the fake romantic wedding image.
Across the terrace, Brooklyn slid onto the stool beside Brayden at the bar. He had returned to his people, desperate to look relaxed. Brooklyn leaned in too close and laughed at something he said, her hand brushing his wrist.
Sara watched without flinching. The touch was careless now. Smug. Brooklyn thought the public attention meant she was winning because people were finally seeing her near him. She didn’t understand that visibility could turn.
A resort event coordinator stepped onto the small platform near the dinner terrace entrance and tapped a microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if we could invite everyone to make their way to the farewell dinner, we have a very special evening planned. Mr. Ellis has prepared a surprise newlywed video montage for his beautiful bride.”
A wave of delighted murmurs moved through the guests.
Brayden looked toward Sara, his smile forced but triumphant, as if romance could still be used as a leash. Brooklyn lifted her glass. Abbie slipped the drive into her tiny gold clutch and leaned close to Sara.
“Last chance to run,” she murmured.
Sara looked at Brayden, at the man who had told her to wear white while handing another woman a room key. She looked at Brooklyn, glowing with stolen confidence. She looked at Dominic, who stood quietly at the edge of the crowd and trusted her to own the moment.
Then Sara smiled.
“I’m done running from my own life.”