1
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“Where’s Liam? Get him on the phone.”
TSienna Vaughn answered the video call. I froze for a moment but quickly regained my composure.
Sienna glanced around, pretending to examine the room I was in. Then she smirked.
“Oh, Miss Reese, you’re at the townhouse?”
She leaned closer to the camera, her voice dripping with mockery.
“The bed’s so soft. I tested it for you.”
I felt the ground drop out from under me, my mind buzzing loudly.
I glared at the woman on the screen, unable to speak for a moment. Sienna’s gaze shifted to the stained sheets, her tone oozing triumphantly.
“The groom’s not bad either. I tested him, too.”
I finally noticed her surroundings–a room at The Franklin Hotel. Suppressing my burning anger, I steadied my voice.
“Where is Liam?”
Sienna made a show of glancing off–camera, feigning hesitation.
“Oh, Mr. Prescott? He’s working late and very busy.”
Then I heard his voice–his all–too–familiar voice.
“Sienna, come help me scrub my back.”
I froze, my mouth opening and closing with no sound.
“You just want me in there with you. You’re such a tease!” Sienna giggled as she tossed me a victorious look and hung up the call.
All my strength drained from me, and I sank to the floor, overwhelmed by a mix of fury and heartbreak.
I don’t know how long I sat there before I laughed bitterly, tossing the stained sheet into the dumpster.
Tomorrow was supposed to be my wedding day. I was busy decorating the townhouse while Liam shared a bubble bath with his assistant.
Sienna had aimed to ruin my wedding–and she succeeded.
I texted Liam:
“We’re done. The wedding is off.”
A soiled bed I can replace. A filthy man? Never.
I stared at the wedding–themed figurines of a couple kissing, dressed in bright red gowns and tuxedos, and threw them in the dumpster.
Then, I smashed the framed wedding photo on the wall.
One by one, I destroyed the decorations I’d lovingly prepared for the townhouse.
Finally, I sent a mass message to all the guests canceling the wedding, powered down my phone, and returned to my parents‘ home.
That night, I drowned the memories of the past years in cheap whiskey and passed out in a haze.
The following day, loud, frantic knocking woke me up.
Standing at the door were Liam and his groomsmen, dressed to the nines in tailored suits, looking all smug and polished.
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Liam clutched a bouquet of roses, now crushed and falling apart. His expression was furious as he took in my unkempt, half–asleep state.
“Delilah! Are you out of your mind?”
His twisted, contorted face was so grotesque it almost made me laugh.
That laugh pushed him over the edge. He threw the mangled bouquet to the ground, yelling,
“Do you even realize what day it is? It’s our wedding day!”
