Two days before the wedding, my best friend told me to test my fiancé. She didn’t believe a notorious playboy like Asher Blackwood, the heir to a fortune, could ever truly change his ways. Her instincts were usually spot on, so that night, I created a fake social media account and, playing the part of a sweet, flirty girl, I slid into his DMs. Asher absolutely shredded me. He shut me down so hard I was left somewhere between laughing and crying at my own foolishness. But then, just as I was about to log off, his tone shifted. A new message appeared. [Alright, I'm done playing this little game with you.] [I don't mess around with other women. Just you two.] [Clem, next time you want to sext me, just use your real account.] Clem. That’s my best friend’s nickname. 1 After my brain processed those three short messages, the blood in my veins turned to ice. I squeezed my eyes shut, pinching myself hard, trying to wake up. But the frantic, hammering beat of my own heart confirmed it: this was no nightmare. Asher was cheating on me with Cici. But… how? I thought they couldn’t stand each other. Cici always said Asher was nothing but a rich brat who wasn’t good enough for me. And Asher always called Cici a pest, complaining that she’d tell me to dump him every time we had a fight. The shrill ring of a video call jolted me back to the present. It was him. Numbly, I declined the call. A text immediately followed. [Why aren't you answering?] [Don’t tell me you’re crying.] [Come to The Crest. I'll make you feel better.] [Don't worry. Even after I’m married, I’ll still be good to you.] [Anything Lila has, you’ll have too.] [Including me.] 2 I stared at the phone screen, a roaring in my ears that felt like my soul being ripped from my body. Fat, hot tears began to fall, splattering onto the screen. Through the blur, my mind flashed back to the first time I brought Cici to this villa, to all the little details that had seemed so innocent then. Without me saying a word, she knew exactly where my bedroom was, where the walk-in closet was. When I’d playfully snatched her phone, I saw it was already connected to the Wi-Fi. She’d laughed it off, saying she’d guessed my password by chance. Asher’s Oriental Shorthair cat, a creature that was usually aloof even with me, had been inexplicably warm toward her. She’d said it was probably because she smelled like me. But that cat barely let me near it, no matter how many toys or treats I offered. Yet for Cici, a total stranger, it had rolled onto its back, exposing its belly in a sign of complete trust. And then there were all the things in Cici’s apartment—the clothes, the bags, the lipsticks, the makeup—all identical to mine. Some of it, Asher had given her through me, a "bribe" he said, to get on his "toughest critic's" good side. The rest, Cici had claimed, were gifts from admirers. When I’d excitedly tried to get the gossip out of her, she’d been evasive. I thought she was just being shy. Turns out, she was hiding a guilty conscience. I even remembered the times we’d all gone shopping together, the way the two of them would bicker and snipe at each other, playfully competing for my attention. A few times, their mock-anger had broken, and they’d burst into laughter. And I, like an idiot, had been so happy that they were finally starting to get along. All this time, they’d been using me. Using our friendship as a cover for their affair, playing me for a complete and utter fool. 3 I cried until my eyes were swollen and my head throbbed. Then, I grabbed my car keys and floored it all the way to The Crest. It was another one of Asher’s properties, the place where he’d put up his groomsmen for the wedding. They were having a bachelor party tonight. Asher was there. And so, I saw with a fresh wave of sickness, was Cici. Through the wrought iron fence, I saw them by the pool. Asher looked drunk, his sharp, handsome face flushed from the alcohol. His eyes were hazy as he draped an arm around Cici’s neck, whispering something in her ear. Cici pouted, then gave him a playful, bratty shove, sending him tumbling into the pool. The groomsmen around them hooted and cheered. Asher’s head broke the surface. He slicked his wet hair back, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He grabbed Cici’s ankle and pulled her in with him. As she shrieked, he caught her, lifted her up, and pinned her against the wall of the pool in a bruising, possessive kiss. The crowd erupted. Someone popped a bottle of champagne. Someone else set off a party popper. And then, I heard my own name, dropped like a joke. "Whoa, Ash, you’re marrying Lila in two days. Making out with her best friend might be a bad look, man." "Haha, what she doesn't know won't hurt her! Asher could sleep with Clem right here, right now, and Lila would never have a clue." "There's the Asher we know and love! I was starting to worry. All that time you spent chasing Lila, acting like you couldn't live without her… was that all just an act? I really thought you’d gone soft, pulling that whole 'reformed playboy' crap from the movies!" Asher finally broke the kiss. His voice was a low, magnetic rasp, laced with his signature lazy arrogance. "I do love Lila. She’s the only woman I’ll ever marry. I’ll spoil her, I’ll cherish her, I’ll grow old with her. But… giving up all other women for her, at my age…" Asher laughed, then planted a loud, wet kiss on Cici’s neck as she gasped for air, clinging to his shoulders. "I just can't do it." He lifted Cici out of the pool and set her down on a lounge chair. Someone rushed over with a towel, but Asher took it and draped it over Cici instead. "Ash, you heading back to Lila's tonight?" one of the guys asked. Cici looked up at him, her eyes glistening. Asher knelt, pinching her cheek affectionately. "Lila loves Clem more than anyone. I'm a distant second. And right now, Clem is upset. So obviously, I have to stay and comfort her." He waved a hand at someone behind him. "Ethan, send your sister-in-law a text. Tell her I’m wasted and sleeping here tonight. I'll pick her up for the rehearsal tomorrow." Just as a fresh wave of tears blinded me, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Ethan: [Hey Lila, Asher’s had way too much to drink. He’s crashing here tonight. Get some sleep, he’ll come get you for the rehearsal tomorrow morning.] 4 I stood there for a long time, my mind a chaotic whirl of memories. My parents died when I was young, and I was sent to live with my uncle. My cousin bullied me constantly, and my aunt always turned a blind eye. The fights I was too scared to pick, Cici picked for me. The complaints I was too afraid to make, Cici made for me. In school, I was the academic one. I split every scholarship I ever won with her. She was an only child, and not much of a student. The last year of high school, I practically dragged her through it, breaking down every concept, feeding her the knowledge, promising her a future. We both got into the same university. In our second year, I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me. The second Cici heard, she stormed over to their hotel, beat the crap out of him, and tore into the other girl. After graduation, we shared a tiny studio apartment, lost and unsure about the future. We’d huddle under one blanket at night, making pacts that whoever got rich first would take care of the other. "If you make it big, you're taking me with you." "First we share a bed, then we share a mansion." We had been inseparable since we were kids. I thought of her as my family. Maybe blood family wouldn't love me unconditionally, but I believed, with all my heart, that she would. And now, faced with her betrayal, I didn’t even have the strength to confront her. The same person who once fought my battles for me was now the other woman. My complete, unwavering trust had been met with the most brutal betrayal imaginable. As I walked away from The Crest, the moon hung high and cold in the sky, chilling me to the bone. My thoughts drifted to Asher. At twenty-five, I had become the lead designer at the top wedding planning firm in the city. I met him while setting up the decor for Ethan’s wedding. I’d pulled an all-nighter, and my blood sugar crashed. I fainted and fell into a decorative fountain. Asher was the one who pulled me out. The image of him, holding me in his arms, water dripping from his brow as he looked down at me with those intense eyes, was seared into my memory. My heart had skipped a beat. I found out about his powerful family, his reputation as a womanizer, and I tried to keep my distance. But Asher cleaned up his act. For a whole year, he pursued me. His pursuit was respectful, patient, and deeply romantic. That New Year's Eve, I went back to my hometown to visit my parents’ graves. My phone died. For three hours, I was unreachable. Terrified that I’d collapsed from low blood sugar somewhere in the countryside, he drove hundreds of miles to find me. I found him standing on a dirt path between fields, shivering in a thin jacket, his neck craned, tears streaming down his face as he screamed my name into the empty air. In that moment, I thought: Mom, Dad, this is him. He’s the one. For three years, his love never seemed to fade. He would get down on one knee in a crowded mall to help me try on shoes. He would find herbal remedies for my cramps and brew them himself, watching the pot for hours. Before introducing me to his parents, he prepped them for weeks to ensure I wouldn't face a single doubt or ounce of disrespect. He took me into his world of galas and high society, proudly introducing me to everyone. "This is my fiancée, Lila Reed, the lead designer at ArtGrn. You can call her Ms. Reed." "She’s brilliant. She’s won countless design awards. That royal wedding last year? That was her. She’s booked solid for years." "Actually, her bookings start the year after next, because next year is for our wedding. It's going to be massive. You'll all get an invitation!" His love was so passionate, so perfect. Which made this one flaw so monstrous, so fatal. I checked into a hotel and cried my heart out. I told myself over and over, So you were betrayed. So you were cheated on. The wedding hasn't happened. The license isn't signed. There's still time. I could just run away. Get as far away from this place, from these demons, as possible. But… I wasn’t the one who did something wrong. Why should I be the one to retreat in shame? I was going to get my revenge. The problem wasn't my sincerity or my kindness. It was my blind trust. I had done nothing wrong. I was a good person. 5 The next day, for the rehearsal, I returned to the villa early. When Asher came to pick me up, I had already composed myself. But he still noticed my swollen eyes. "Were you crying last night?" he asked, his voice soft. He leaned down and gently kissed my eyelid. Bile rose in my throat. "I was just missing my parents," I lied. He smiled and knelt to help me with my shoes. "They’re in a better place now, smiling down on us." I stared at the crown of his head, a question burning on my tongue. If you couldn't be faithful, why did you ask me to marry you? Don't you know I can't tolerate betrayal? When you were with Cici behind my back, did it never once occur to you how much it would destroy me if I ever found out? In the end, I clamped my jaw shut and swallowed the words. Asher had been boasting to the world that he was going to give me the grandest wedding imaginable. I was going to personally turn that grand wedding into a grotesque comedy. And Asher would be the clown, standing alone in the spotlight. The rehearsal finished in the afternoon. As we were leaving, I told Asher and Cici to wait for me in the car. I needed to speak with my assistant. As the designer of this multi-million-dollar event, she was also the lead coordinator. After our conversation, she looked troubled, opening her mouth to speak but then thinking better of it. I pretended not to notice. I knew my requests were outrageous. A last-minute change of this magnitude would throw everything into chaos. But I'd handled hundreds of weddings. I’d dealt with brides far more demanding and difficult than this. Now that it was my turn to be the bride, why couldn't I be a little selfish?
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