e soft glow of chandeliers. Every detail, from the lavish floral arrangements to the perfectly aligned crystal glasses, screams elegance and perfection-ju

m the entrance, my eyes fixed on the scene below. It's a grand affair, the

of people you'd expect to see at events like this-high-powered businessmen, socialites, and even a few celebrities who grace t

ke is the perfect host, charming and attentive, moving through the crowd with practiced ease. His tailored suit clings to his athletic frame

two years-the one who set up this entire event-h

know b

k hair pulled back into a polished bun, her body encased in a figure-hugging plum dress that subtly matches Mike's tie. She's careful not to linger too close to h

nce at his phone to check on me. I've tried to contact Mike, desperately so, despite all my good judgment. But he has avoided my calls, brushing me off with excu

all, I'm the one who paid the event planners, caterers, and decorators. I clench my fists, my nails digging into

to turn heads and make headlines. My stylist has outdone herself, selecting the perfect ensemble for my revenge. My makeup is flawless, my lips painted in a daring shade of crimson, and my long dark ha

ut to take the stage for his welcome speech. The cameras that have been trained on him turn as I enter, flashbulbs popping in

knowing I'm making an entrance that will be talked about for days, if not weeks, to come. Mi

c across his face, but then, as if flipping a switch, he regains his composure. The bastard has the audaci

e carrying through the room. "I'm so glad you could fin

t a great son-in-law he is, maintaining the facade that everything is fine between us. But I'm done playing the role of the devoted wife. I don't miss the disapproving glare my fathe

slow and deliberate. "Thank you, darling," I purr, my voice d

mposed. He turns back to the crowd, continuing his speech with practiced ease, though I can see

an ambitious young man to the successful entrepreneur he is today. I watch with detached interest as images of our early

echoes through the room. "I couldn't have done any of this without the support of my wife, Natalie. She'

in my ears. I feel the weight of the lie pressing down on me, threatening to suffocate me.

used. I see Mike's jaw tighten, and I can sense the fury in his eyes.

carrying across the roo

't say anything. He doesn't need to. The

edge off the anger simmering inside me. The bartender hands me a glass of whiskey, and I tak

ong-time frenemy, walking up to the bar. She has a scandalous look plastered

was quite the entrance, truly. I didn't expect less from you, Nat.

h Mike from a distance, deep in conversation with my father

" Tyna agrees, winking. "What are you doing

ng myself tire from this conversation. Maybe if I keep t

t you're already drunk!" Tyna

ite enough, Brooks. Oh, and... keep your ears

nt. She seems to have finally found the answer she was looking

Lizzie this time. "You took your sweet time to show up, woman!" Lizz

cares about his reputation. If he truly cared abo

ly with a sly smile, my eyes glinting with mischief. "After

in his late thirties, with dark hair streaked with grey and a strong, chiseled jawline. His tailored suit fits him perfectly, acce

ed on the man as he strolls over to me leisu

uld use another drink," he sa