Chapter 1

"I don' t want to marry him, Mom."

The words came out in a whisper, a strange sound in the master suite that was supposed to be my bridal haven.

My mother, Sarah, was quiet on the other end of the line. I could picture her in her small, quiet house miles away, the one she' d moved into after she finally left my father. She probably had a cup of tea in her hand, her face calm.

"Okay, Olivia," she said, her voice steady. "You don' t have to."

"The wedding is tomorrow." My own voice sounded hollow. "Everything is paid for. Hundreds of people are coming."

"None of that matters," she said. "I have a ticket for you. A flight to Florence. It leaves tomorrow at noon. Just say the word, and I' ll send it to your phone. You can be gone before any of this even starts."

A wave of relief washed over me, so strong it made my knees weak. I sank onto the edge of the enormous bed, the silk of my custom-made wedding dress rustling around me. It was hanging on a mannequin in the corner, a perfect, white ghost.

"Thank you," I breathed.

"You don' t have to thank me. I just want you to be happy." She paused. "What happened, honey?"

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I couldn' t tell her. Not yet. The words were too ugly.

Instead, my eyes drifted to the balcony doors, which were cracked open just enough to let in the cool evening air and the low murmur of voices from the garden below.

It was our rehearsal dinner. My fiancé, Liam Miller, the celebrated tech genius, was down there, charming our guests.

And so was my stepsister, Chloe Davis.

"I have to go, Mom," I said, my throat tight. "I' ll call you later."

"Olivia…"

I hung up before she could say more. I couldn' t bear her concern right now. It would make me break, and I couldn' t break. Not yet.

I stood up and walked silently to the balcony doors. My heart was a cold, heavy stone in my chest. I pushed the door open a fraction more and peered through the gap.

Down below, bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights strung through the trees, they stood near a stone fountain, away from the main crowd.

Liam and Chloe.

He had his back to me, but I knew his posture. The confident set of his shoulders, the way he tilted his head when he was listening intently.

Chloe was facing my direction, but she didn' t see me. Her eyes were only for him. She was laughing, her head thrown back, a strand of her blonde hair falling across her face.

Liam reached out and gently tucked it behind her ear.

It was a small gesture. Innocent, to anyone else.

But then his hand didn' t move away. It cupped the side of her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. The smile on Chloe' s face softened into something else. Something possessive and triumphant.

They thought they were hidden. They thought I was upstairs, blissfully unaware, dreaming of our perfect future.

I watched, frozen, as Liam leaned in. His lips met hers. It wasn' t a quick, stolen kiss. It was slow and deep, a kiss of familiarity, of longing. A kiss that told a story I was never meant to read.

My hand flew to my mouth to stifle a sob. The air in my lungs turned to ice. I felt my body start to tremble, a violent, uncontrollable shaking.

I stumbled back from the door, my hand flat against the cold glass. My breath came in ragged gasps.

It wasn't just a kiss. It was everything. It was the sudden, sickening realization that the last eight years of my life had been a lie.

My mother' s voice echoed in my head. "I' ve seen that look before, Olivia. On your father' s face, right before he left me for her."

She was talking about Jessica, Chloe' s mother. The woman my father had an affair with. The woman he married just months after divorcing my mom.

History was repeating itself. The same betrayal, the same poison, running through the family.

The phone in my hand felt impossibly heavy. My mother' s offer of a plane ticket was a lifeline, a clean escape.

But as I stared at the reflection of my own pale, shocked face in the dark glass, another feeling began to bubble up through the pain.

Rage.

I collapsed onto the floor, the thick carpet muffling the sound of my weeping. The sobs wracked my body, raw and agonizing. All the air was gone from the room, from my world.

Eight years. We had been together for eight years.

I met Liam in my final year of architecture school. He was a rising star in the tech world, brilliant and driven. I was an aspiring architect, full of dreams. We were the golden couple. Everyone said so. Our friends, our families, the articles written about his company that always mentioned his talented, beautiful fiancée.

He was my rock, my biggest supporter. He encouraged my career, celebrated my successes. He held me when my father chose his new family over me, time and time again.

He had proposed a year ago, on the anniversary of our first date, with a ring he had designed himself. A flawless diamond set in a band that mimicked the lines of my favorite bridge.

"You build beautiful things that connect people, Olivia," he had said, kneeling in the middle of our half-unpacked new home. "I want to build a life with you."

That perfect life, that beautiful future, had just shattered into a million pieces on the garden stones below.

I wasn't just losing a fiancé. I was losing my best friend, my family, my past, and my future, all at the same time.

And the two people who had taken it all from me were sipping champagne just a hundred feet away.