Chapter 3

"He' s such a good man, isn' t he?" Izzy continued, her voice dripping with false sympathy.

The women around us nodded, their eyes flicking between me and Izzy.

Assessing. Judging.

"Always looking out for his friends," one of them chirped. "Especially you, Izzy. It' s legendary, his devotion."

Izzy placed a hand on her chest, feigning humility.

"Oh, you know, we go way back. Childhood sweethearts, practically. Some bonds, they just don' t break."

She looked directly at me.

"Actually, Ellie, you should thank me. I' m the one who told Marcus to marry you."

The air left my lungs.

The ballroom suddenly felt too hot, too crowded.

"What?" I managed to whisper.

Izzy' s smile was pure venom now, though her voice remained sweet.

"Oh yes. He was so lost after I... well, after I needed some space. He was moping around, poor thing. I told him, 'Marcus, you need someone steady. Someone... simple. Like Ellie. She' ll be good for you. She won' t cause any drama.' "

My hands were shaking.

My carefully constructed composure was cracking.

I could feel the blood draining from my face.

The faces around us blurred.

"Excuse me," I mumbled, turning away.

I needed air.

I stumbled towards the terrace, my heart pounding.

The cold night air hit my face, a small relief.

I leaned against the stone balustrade, trying to breathe.

So it wasn' t just that he didn' t love me.

My entire marriage was a setup. Orchestrated by her.

To keep Marcus occupied. To keep him stable until she wanted him back.

And I was the fool who played my part perfectly.

After a few minutes, someone called out, "We' re starting Truth or Dare! Izzy, you' re up first!"

I didn' t want to go back in.

But I couldn' t stay out here forever.

I walked back into the ballroom, trying to look indifferent.

Izzy was in the center of a circle, a playful pout on her face.

"Truth!" she declared.

Someone shouted, "Tell us about the most devoted admirer you' ve ever had, Izzy! The craziest thing he ever did for you!"

Izzy tapped her chin, pretending to think.

Then she launched into a story.

"Well, there was this one boy... absolutely smitten. Since high school. He' d do anything for me. Once, I casually mentioned I loved a particular rare orchid, only found on some remote mountain. He flew there, chartered a helicopter, and got it for me. Cost him a fortune."

Laughter and gasps from the group.

"Another time," Izzy continued, warming to her theme, "I was upset because my favorite band wasn' t touring our city. He somehow convinced them, paid their exorbitant fee himself, just for a private concert for me and my friends."

More applause.

"And then there was the time I needed a specific vintage Chanel bag for a party. Impossible to find. He tracked it down through a dozen collectors, paid five times its value, and had it hand-delivered hours before the event."

My blood ran cold.

I knew those stories.

Marcus had told me versions of them. Vague anecdotes about "a friend" he' d helped, or "a crazy thing" he' d done for someone in the past.

The orchid. He' d missed our first Valentine' s Day dinner for that "business trip."

The private concert. He' d emptied a joint savings account we had, claiming a "sudden investment opportunity."

The Chanel bag. He' d sold a watch his father gave him, a family heirloom. He' d said he lost it.

It was him.

It was always him, doing those things for Izzy.

Not for some anonymous friend. For her.

All those years. All that money. All that devotion.

For Izzy.

My vision tunneled. The room seemed to tilt.

"Who was this amazing guy, Izzy?" someone asked. "You have to tell us!"

Izzy smiled mysteriously. "Maybe I' ll introduce you all someday. If he' s not too busy."

She glanced towards the ballroom entrance.

And there he was.

Marcus.

Walking in, looking for her. His eyes scanned the room, landed on Izzy, and a small smile touched his lips.

He didn' t even see me, standing just a few feet away.

He walked straight to Izzy.

"Sorry I' m late," he said to her, his voice low. "Meeting ran over."

A lie. I knew his schedule. He had no meetings tonight.

He' d been waiting. For her call. For her summons.

He finally noticed me. Surprise flickered in his eyes.

"Ellie. You came."

Like it was an unexpected anomaly.

"I was just leaving," I said. My voice sounded distant, even to me.

"Oh. Do you need a ride?" he asked, a perfunctory offer.

"No, thank you," I said. "I' ve already called one."

I turned and walked away, leaving them together.

The perfect couple.

The one he always wanted.