Chapter 2

I didn't go far. I just went to a bar down the street and sat there, nursing a beer, letting the reality of the last hour sink in. A six-year relationship, an engagement, a life I thought was real-all of it had just been detonated.

My phone buzzed. It was Ashley. I ignored it. It buzzed again. And again. Finally, a text message popped up.

`Where are you? Come back. We need to talk about the logistics for my wedding with Liam.`

My wedding with Liam. She wrote it without a hint of irony. A part of me wanted to smash the phone against the wall. Another, colder part took over. If she wanted to play a game, I would play it too.

I texted back: `Fine. I'll be home in an hour.`

When I walked back into the apartment, she was sitting on the couch, but she wasn't alone. Liam O'Connell was there with her. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the cushion, looking like a lost puppy.

"Ethan, you're back," Ashley said, her voice bright and cheerful, as if nothing had happened. "Liam was just telling me how grateful he is. Weren't you, Liam?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Liam mumbled, not meeting my eyes. "Thanks, Ethan. This means a lot. To my mom."

Ashley beamed and draped an arm around Liam's shoulders, pulling him closer. He startled for a second, then relaxed into her embrace. She ran her fingers through his hair. "Don't worry, Liam. I'll take care of everything. We'll give your mom the most beautiful wedding."

Liam looked up at her, his eyes full of a dopey, undisguised adoration. It was nauseating. This wasn't about his mother. This was about him getting what he'd always wanted. And Ashley was eating it up.

I felt a surge of disgust. It wasn't just the betrayal, it was the sheer tackiness of it all. They were sitting in the living room we had furnished together, on the couch where we had talked about our future, performing this cheap pantomime of love and duty.

"I'm going to get some air," I said, my voice tight. I couldn't watch this.

"Don't be long," Ashley called after me. "We need to go over the guest list!"

I walked out, slamming the door behind me. I didn't get air. I went straight to the high-end jewelry store where our wedding rings were waiting. They were custom-made, a design I had spent months working on with the jeweler. Simple, elegant, unique to us. Or so I had thought.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Miller," the jeweler, a kind older man named Mr. Abernathy, greeted me. "Here to pick up the rings?"

"Yes, I am," I said.

He smiled and went to the back. A minute later, he returned, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"That's strange," he said. "The box isn't here."

"What do you mean, it's not here?"

"My system says the rings were picked up this morning," he said, tapping on his computer screen. "By Ms. Davies."

My blood ran cold. "Ashley was here?"

"Yes, she came in around 11 a.m. Said you sent her to get them for a final fitting check before the big day." He paused. "Is everything alright, Mr. Miller?"

"Everything is fine," I managed to say, my jaw clenched. "Thank you."

I walked out of the store in a daze. She hadn't just postponed our wedding; she had stolen our rings for hers. The symbolism was so blatant, so cruel, it was almost laughable.

Back at my apartment building, I didn't go up. Instead, I went to the security office in the lobby. I was on the resident board, so I knew the head of security, a guy named Frank.

"Frank, I need a favor," I said. "Can you pull the security footage from the front entrance and the elevators from around eleven o'clock this morning?"

"Sure, Ethan. No problem. Everything okay?"

"Just checking on something," I said vaguely.

He rewound the footage. And there it was. At 10:57 a.m., the camera over the front door showed Ashley walking out. A minute later, Liam's car pulled up to the curb. She got in. The camera inside the elevator, from ten minutes earlier, was even more damning. She was in the elevator with Liam. She was holding the jeweler's box. She opened it, showing him the rings.

And then, Liam took her hand. He slipped my ring, the one I had designed for her, onto her finger. She smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile I hadn't seen in a long time. She leaned in and kissed him. Not a peck on the cheek. A real, lingering kiss, right there in the elevator of the building where I was supposed to be building a life with her.

Frank cleared his throat awkwardly. "You want me to... save a copy of this for you, Ethan?"

"Yes, Frank," I said, my voice devoid of any emotion. "Yes, I do."

I walked back up to my apartment, the video file burning on a USB drive in my pocket. The disgust I felt earlier had hardened into something else. Something cold and methodical.

When I entered, Liam was gone. Ashley was on the phone, laughing.

"Yes, Mom, it's going to be a beautiful ceremony. Liam is so sweet... Oh, a dress? I was thinking... maybe I can use the one I already have."

She was talking about her wedding dress. Our wedding dress.

She hung up and saw me. "Oh, you're back. Where did you go?"

"Just for a walk," I said. "So, you picked up the rings?"

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of panic. Then she composed herself.

"Oh, yes! I was going to tell you," she said breezily. "I just wanted to make sure they fit perfectly. You know how I am about details."

"So they're here?" I asked, looking around.

"Of course. I put them in the safe," she lied, gesturing towards the small safe in our bedroom closet.

"Can I see them?"

"Why? You don't trust me?" she asked, a playful pout on her lips.

I didn't answer. I just looked at her. I saw the lie in her eyes, the casual way she was trying to manipulate me.

"You know what, Ashley," Liam said, his voice soft and accommodating, a complete mirror of my own from just an hour ago. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

He was trying to be the good, understanding fiancé. The role I had played for six years. The irony was so thick I could taste it.

"See?" Ashley said, smiling at Liam. "Ethan gets it. He's not petty."

Liam then stepped forward, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Listen, man, I know this is weird. But when this is all over, I promise, she's all yours. I'll make sure she comes right back to you."

He said it like he was lending me his car. The condescension, the absolute arrogance of it, was breathtaking.

Ashley then sidled up to me, putting two of her bodyguards, who usually followed her to events, by the door. "Just to make sure you don't get any silly ideas and leave town," she whispered, her voice a mix of a threat and a joke. "Stay put. Be a good boy. It'll all be over soon."

She walked away, hand in hand with Liam, leaving me in my own apartment with two guards at the door. I was a prisoner in my own home.

I waited until I heard the front door close. Then I walked into the bedroom. I didn't bother with the safe. I went to my laptop, plugged in the USB drive, and watched the video again.

The kiss. The smile. The ring on her finger.

It wasn't a fake wedding. It wasn't about a dying wish. It was a coup. And I had been deposed.

The phone buzzed. It was Sarah.

`So, about that new bride... Chloe says yes.`

I looked at the screen, at the video of Ashley kissing Liam, and then back at the text.

A plan began to form in my mind. A cold, precise, and devastating plan. Ashley wanted a show. I was going to give her one she would never forget.

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