Chapter 2

Sabrina' s quirky artist façade shatters. Her eyes widen in genuine terror.

"Jocelyn, what are you doing? It was just a joke!" she squeals, hiding behind Ethan.

Ethan' s face, once a mask of charming amusement, is now dark with fury. He strides toward me, his steps heavy on the grass.

"What the hell do you think you' re doing?" he hisses, his voice low and menacing.

"I' m taking out the trash," I reply, my eyes never leaving his.

The sharp crack of his hand across my face echoes in the sudden silence. My head snaps to the side, a stinging heat blooming on my cheek. The guests gasp.

"You will not humiliate my sister," Ethan snarls, grabbing my arm. His grip is like iron. "She is innocent. She was just trying to liven things up. You' re being a spoiled, uptight bridezilla."

His mother, a woman with greed etched into her wrinkles, rushes forward. "Ethan is right! Jocelyn, dear, it was a joke! Apologize to Sabrina right now."

His father and a few of their friends close in, forming a tight, menacing circle around me. They are physically blocking me, their faces a mixture of anger and entitlement.

They look at me like I'm a misbehaving animal, not the woman whose family is paying for every blade of grass at this ludicrously expensive event.

"Get on your hands and knees," Ethan commands, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. "Apologize to my sister, or this wedding is off, and you will be the laughingstock of the entire East Coast."

They think they have me cornered. They think the slap, the public shaming, the threat of humiliation will break me like it did before. They are wrong.

I remember this moment. I remember caving, crying, and begging for forgiveness just to keep the peace, just to hold onto the man I thought I loved. I remember how that path ended for me.

Never again.

I look at Ethan, at his family, at their greedy, grasping faces. I see them not as people, but as obstacles. As vermin.

I let my shoulders slump, feigning defeat. I allow a tear to trace a path down my stinging cheek.

"You' re right," I whisper, my voice trembling convincingly. "I' m sorry. I overreacted."

I turn to a pale, triumphant Sabrina. "Sabrina, I am so, so sorry. To make it up to you... how about a new car? A Porsche. Any color you want. My apology gift."

The tension in the air evaporates instantly. Greed is a powerful anesthetic. Sabrina' s eyes light up. Ethan' s grip on my arm loosens. His mother claps her hands together, a wide, predatory smile spreading across her face.

"Oh, that' s more like it, dear!" she coos. "See, Ethan? She knows her place."

They think they' ve won. They think they' ve put the heiress back in her box.

They have no idea what' s coming.