Chapter 1 Madelina
“Ces sièges sont-ils pris, mademoiselle?”
My eyes snap open beneath my black Prada sunglasses and are greeted by the blazing Saint-Tropez sun, then dart to where the husky voice came from.
Two gorgeous men are standing beside me, gazing down at me with seductive smiles. I rush to sit up, only to realize I’m now at eye-level with their defined abs. You could grate cheese on these abs.
Hot men and cheese—ah, perfection.
My mind wanders to the mouthwatering cheese platter I devoured last night. Brie, Comté, Roquefort, and the list goes on. Paired with a Burgundy pinot noir, it was the best night I’d had in a very long time. Better than sex, one could say.
And I could say that because I haven’t had sex in forever.
The men appear to grow impatient, crossing their arms while angling their faces in unison. What did they ask?
“Um, désolée, s’il te pla?t, my French is not so good,” I mumble with a crooked smile.
I quickly reach for my cell phone and ask them to repeat their question, relying on my translation app to save me from another awkward encounter. If only I had paid more attention back in high school instead of trying to hook up with some jock in French class.
The taller, tanned man on the left places his hand on his hip. “Are these chairs taken?”
“Oh!” I gasp. “No, please go ahead.”
They both smile, though it appears forced, then lie beside me on the empty cabana chairs.
In front of us, the ocean reflects a crystal-blue hue, embraced by the afternoon sun.
For a lazy Tuesday, the Plage de Tahiti is full of people relaxing by the sea.
Groups of sunbathers lounge on colorful towels, and a few families with small children play along the shore.
I intentionally steer clear of the “naturist” section since my stupid brain pictures older men bathing in nothing but their birthday suits.
Wait a minute! Who needs to conjure up these thoughts when I saw it in real life just yesterday? I shudder at the memory.
Underneath my sunglasses, I glance discreetly at the two men, only to see them holding hands.
Great.
With a deep sigh, I let my shoulders drop and find myself engulfed by a void, returning to my life of absolutely nothing. It seems to consist of tanning by some beach or hotel pool, all alone, with my past actions haunting my every thought.
The French sun is burning my skin, forcing me to turn over like a rotisserie chicken.
As I lie on my stomach, resting my chin on my arms, I lazily watch people swim in the water.
A young woman is floating on a pink flamingo, laughing while her lover rocks the floaties in an attempt to make her fall off.
A smile unfolds slowly on my face as I remember my visit to the Bahamas and Myles trying to do the exact same thing.
We’d been dating for less than a year, but everything seemed to fall into place.
It feels like a lifetime ago, but in the same breath, only yesterday.
I avoid the trip down memory lane—or as I prefer to call it, Madelina Beaumont’s Life Mistakes—and pick up my book.
A few sentences in, I place it back on the table beside me with a newfound annoyance.
The last thing I should be reading is a small-town romance.
Honestly, what was I thinking? I told myself I needed a change from all the dark books I’ve been reading because the mindfuck wasn’t doing anything to improve my outlook on life.
Instead of wanting a healthy relationship, I am craving a mafioso to kidnap me and demand I partake in an arranged marriage to save his family’s fortune.
But maybe I’m not ready for swoon-worthy men either. The type who dips his cowboy hat then ravages me in his shack in the middle of the woods.
I miss having sex, and smut is only making it worse.
Out of boredom, my eyes wander to my phone sitting beside me. Slowly, I reach over and bring it toward me like it’s a bomb ready to go off.
Frankly, it is.
It was only four months ago that I said yes to marrying Myles Whitney in my picturesque hometown of Cinnamon Springs, a small town in upstate New York.
We both worked on Broadway, which is where we officially met. Myles directed productions and I worked in the costume department. The funny thing is, our paths had crossed before at family events yet we never spoke to one another.
Our friendship blossomed into more, and we had a lot in common. That’s where it went wrong—where I confused comfort and common ground for a happily ever after. Our relationship was easy, so when Myles proposed, I said yes. It was like another box had been ticked.
Then, I watched my older brother and best friend fall in love.
It was like a romance novel playing out before my eyes.
Enemies-to-lovers, if I had to pick the theme.
To make it all the more dramatic, they hid it from me.
It all took me by surprise, but that surprise soon turned into resentment.
My patience wore thin, and I found myself snapping at everything and everyone.
The more involved they became in their forbidden romance, the more I realized that marrying Myles was the wrong decision.
I felt it settle over me like a cold shadow I couldn’t shake.
It was small things, petty things, but soon it became apparent that I had settled for a friend, not someone who made me think nothing else in the world mattered besides him.
Butterflies, head over heels, can’t-breathe-without-them love.
After I left Myles at the altar, because I was a coward and couldn’t pull the trigger before the actual wedding, I skipped town and blocked almost everyone. I’d humiliated not only myself but Myles and his family, not to mention my own.
I deleted all social media apps from my phone, reducing the temptation to see what the world thinks of me bailing on the wealthy heir… but temptation is the devil’s playground. My fingers tap the app store, coaxing me to redownload the apps—that is, until the phone rings and Eva’s name appears.
“You saved me,” I answer with relief.
“Oh no. Did you stumble into the nudist part again and see an old man’s saggy butt?”
My body shudders at the thought. “Eww, no. I was about to reinstate my socials.”
“Maddy,” Eva warns softly. “Don’t do it. You’re going to spiral out of control. It’ll do nothing but destroy your mental health.”
My mental health. Right, what’s that again?
“So, everyone’s talking about me?” I question.
“C’mon, internet trolls are just that: trolls. If I paid attention to every single person telling me I’m not good enough for a hot billionaire, then I wouldn’t be with a hot billionaire.”
I press my lips together in a grimace. “Okay, firstly, please stop using the word hot. You’re talking about my big brother.”
Eva lets out a guilty giggle that instantly makes me roll my eyes. That’s when I know my brother is beside her, probably doing something to her that will scar me.
“Put Aston on the phone,” I demand.
“Fine,” Eva agrees. “You’re on speaker.”
“Hello, brother. Sounds like you’re not behaving yourself, as usual. Which is gross, by the way.”
“Well, what can I say?” I hear the singsong in his voice. “I have a gorgeous fiancée.”
A sigh escapes me as I admit, “You sound happy.”
“I am,” he responds. “But I know you’re not. Come back home, Madelina. It’s time to change the narrative. Whether you come back tomorrow or a year from now, people will have their opinions.”
“I know… it’s just that Dad hasn’t attempted to reach out. I didn’t block him, but still, I thought he would be worried about me.”
“You mean your father.” The words are gritted out with pure resentment.
And there’s the other big drama in my life. Up until my wedding day, we all believed Aston and I shared the same parents. It was my breakdown that caused the spillage of all the family secrets.
My mother had an affair with some farmer, which resulted in Aston.
We didn’t share the same father, and suddenly it all made sense: why Aston was always treated differently from me; why my mother frequently went AWOL, trying to escape the truth.
And, most importantly, the root of my father’s resentment.
My father was no saint in all of this. He drove my mother away, and while I’m not one to condone extramarital affairs, a part of me understood why she found a connection with another man.
My father can be a very cold and callous man.
This family secret of ours was always set to destroy everything.
At least, that’s what he said during the fight that revealed the truth.
Our whole lives were turned upside down the moment I said “I don’t” instead of “I do.”
“Aston,” I say faintly, “I know this hasn’t been easy for you. It’s pretty fucked up, but he’s still my father. A father I thought cared enough about me to check in to make sure I’m not dead in a damn ditch somewhere.”
“What do you expect, Madelina? You ruined his reputation. That’s all that matters to him. Look, you can’t avoid coming home. First, we all miss you. Second, your visa will expire, and you’ll get booted back to the States.”
Aston has a point—I can’t run away forever.
“Right… I guess I can’t afford to lay around the beach forever. It’s just the thought of going back to Cinnamon Springs is freaking me out. Four months ago I got engaged. A month after that, I’m running from the altar to end up alone in paradise. Now, the whole going-back thing? It’s a lot.”
“It won’t be so bad,” Eva chimes in. “I promise you, nothing feels better than being home. Summer in Cinnamon Springs is fun. Swimming at Peppermint Lake, afternoon strolls for ice cream. They’ve even reopened the drive-in theater, which they should never have closed to begin with.”
“They closed it down because it basically became a drive-in sex theater,” I remind her.
Eva laughs. “Oh yeah, but now they have a ranger who keeps an eye on all the cars.”
“What if I’m, like, canceled in everyone’s eyes?” I complain a little too loudly, only to notice one of the men beside me looking invested in my conversation.
“So? Own it. Get T-shirts made and maybe throw yourself a welcome party. Maddy, it’s one moment that will blow over as soon as someone else entertains them,” Eva tries to reassure me.
The familiar heaviness sits in the middle of my chest; a feeling I’ve gotten used to by now. “My life is just one big joke to everyone.”
“Only if you let it be,” Eva emphasizes. “You’re the strongest woman I know. Don’t let a bunch of bored townspeople stop you from shining.”
Only my best friend could convince me there is still some shine left in me.
I glance at my surroundings, willing myself to take it all in—from the idyllic sandy shore to the clear blue sky with not a cloud in sight. France is beautiful, it’s the country dreams are made of, but it isn’t home.
As soon as Aston and Eva say goodbye, I stand and walk toward the water.
My feet squish into the pebbles with every step I take until the small waves crash into me.
The water is reasonably warm, coaxing me to go further until my whole body is immersed in the ocean.
My body relaxes, but something doesn’t feel right.
And that’s the irony of the situation.
I’m in the most beautiful place—yet I’m all alone, feeling the complete opposite of perfect.
The unsettling feeling is enough to make me lose my patience and get out of the water.
At least it’s cooler now, but with nothing to do and no one to talk to, I go back to the cabana chair with the same weight on my chest.
I can’t run forever, but I can lie here for a while and pretend the world around me doesn’t exist, and that the moment I turn on my socials, everyone will have moved on to something else and not still be fixated on Madelina Beaumont—the runaway bride.
The girl who gave up everything in the hope that there was something more.
I draw in a deep breath as if my life depends on it, and with renewed determination, I redownload my apps and dive back into the world of social media.
The loading symbol disappears, and without a second thought, I press the familiar Instagram icon to switch to my feed. Rediscovering what was once an addiction brings back a slight ping of excitement. In the top right-hand corner, red notifications catch my attention.
“Rip the Band-Aid off…” I mumble to myself.
I take another breath, ignoring the anxious butterflies in my stomach, and tap on my DMs. The last message is from someone I don’t even know tagging me in a picture by some influencer.
I click through only to see a picture of me in a wedding dress with another man.
I zoom in, unable to recognize the man, only to realize it isn’t even my dress!
This shit is completely photoshopped. A swirl of nausea rushes over me as I read the caption.
The billionaire’s daughter runs away with a new man on her wedding day.
I gasp loudly, causing the people around me to look in my direction. Mr. and Mr. Eavesdropper beside me appear to be on the edge of their seats with anticipation.
My head snaps up and I tell them, “This is a lie! I didn’t cheat on Myles, okay? He was a great guy, and really good in bed. It just wasn’t right.”
They obviously have no clue who the hell I’m talking about, so I focus my attention back on my phone.
My hands begin to shake as I attempt to read the rest of the post, each word blurring together in a haze of frustration. Anger surges within me as I try to comprehend how people—strangers, no less—have the sheer audacity to make up so many lies.
There isn’t, nor was there ever, any other man. I simply didn’t feel the connection. How dare they spin things out of control for, what, a few hundred views?
I bring the screen closer to me. Fuck, okay, so one million views and over ten thousand comments. This is what I get for having a supposedly hot brother who gets stalked on socials. By extension, I’ve gotten attention.
My lips quiver uncontrollably as I fight to hold back my tears. I’m simply the punchline in a cruel joke—the billionaire’s daughter who betrayed the perfect man—and now the whole world has weighed in on my actions.
Either I take my life back into my own hands or I let them win.
It’s time to set the record straight.
And the only way to do that is to go back to where it all began…
Cinnamon Springs.