Chapter 1

1.

The fifth year of my engagement to Preston Vanderbilt.

That’s when he threw a secret “commitment ceremony” for a recent college grad.

By the time I got to his Hamptons beach house, they were in the middle of a passionate kiss in front of all their guests.

Preston saw me and just raised an eyebrow, swirling the champagne in his glass. "Relax, Caroline. It's just a party. It's not like we went to City Hall."

I didn’t say a word. I just turned around and left.

He probably thought I was just throwing a tantrum, right up until Wall Street’s infamous “King of Mergers” posted a picture of a marriage certificate on Instagram.

Preston showed up at my Upper East Side apartment, banging on the door in the middle of a rainstorm.

I opened it, my cheeks still flushed.

"Don't worry," I said. "We only got the license. We haven't had the wedding yet."

That’s when Damian Cross walked down the stairs with nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. He wrapped an arm around my waist, his voice a low drawl. "Hm? So, legally speaking, does that mean I'm still half-single?"

...

Back at the Hamptons mansion, the party had been in full swing.

The guests―mostly Manhattan’s social elite―were cheering for the “newlyweds” to kiss.

The girl, dressed in a custom Vera Wang gown, looked shyly at Preston. He cupped the back of her head with one hand and deepened the kiss.

I just stared, feeling nothing as I watched them.

One of Preston's friends turned and saw me. "Caroline," he stammered out.

In a heartbeat, the roaring party went silent. Even the DJ had the sense to cut the music.

I walked straight toward Preston, the red soles of my Louboutins clicking on the floor.

The girl, Mia, tried to hide behind him.

Preston didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed about being caught by his fiancée.

He smirked, pulling the girl behind him into his arms with that infuriating, careless charm I knew so well.

"Mia wanted the full white wedding experience. Don't be so tense, darling. It's just a party. We didn't actually go to City Hall."

Preston and I were childhood sweethearts. Our families were both old money. We grew up together at a private boarding school in Connecticut.

After we graduated from Wharton, our families arranged the engagement.

But he was a notorious playboy. The models and influencers on his arm changed every week, making me a laughingstock in our social circle.

I gave him a faint smile.

I pulled a velvet jewelry box from my Hermès Birkin.

"This is the Vanderbilt family emerald ring, passed down to the first son's wife. You can have it back."

Preston took it, toying with it in his hand, a mocking smile on his lips. "What, are you trying to guilt me into calling off the engagement?"

I didn't miss the disbelief in his eyes. "Preston, as of today, our engagement is over. We go our separate ways."

The color drained from Preston's face. "Caroline Sterling," he said, his voice dangerously low, "Say that again."

His friend, seeing things were about to blow up, tried to play peacemaker. "Come on, Caroline. It's just a party. Preston was just messing around. You're the real lady of the house."

I had just watched my fiancé stage a wedding for another woman.

But I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I kept my composure and calmly walked away.

"Preston, you should go after her."

Preston just poured himself another drink. "What for? This has happened before. She'll cool off in a few days and come back."

"Dude, you've never pulled shit like this before. No woman wants to see the man she loves put another girl in a wedding dress. I'm telling you, you should go check on her."

Preston glanced toward the door, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.

Suddenly, Mia tugged on his sleeve. "Can I try it on?"