Page 43 of The Contract Marriage

“Liam,” he says to my husband, eyebrows rising high.

Liam merely nods with a small frown.

“You seem to be doing well.” Winston gives a socially polite smile to Liam. “Hugh said you wouldn’t be able to come.”

I want to check the video to see what lies he spewed to paint me the villain, unable to witness “her sister’s happiness.”

“Why wouldn’t we, even if this place does have a particular stench that’s difficult to overcome?” Liam remarks.

Winston flinches, then surreptitiously sniffs himself.

Other guests begin to notice us. Liam isn’t an easy man to overlook, with his six-five frame towering over people. Not to mention he has a grace and presence that effortlessly commands attention.

From the other side of the bar, Deena senses the change in atmosphere, the shifting buzz in the area. The red in Hugh’s cheeks drains so fast, it’s like his face is a toilet somebody just flushed. I smile coldly. Guess he has the guts to do the deed, but not the balls to face the aftermath. Very much like how he cheated on Mom, then had Deena and Brielle do the dirty work of confronting Mom when he wasn’t around.

But probably he expected me to show up hysterical, frantic with the idea that I was losing my fiancé. That way he could claim I’m out of my mind—or worse—and might even attempt to control the hundred thousand I get from the trust each year.

Just then the bride and groom return from their photography session. Tyler is grinning like he just won the lottery. Probably feels like it, too. Brielle glows. Bet she’s high on “beating Olivia” again. Would’ve been better if I’d come sooner but still good enough that she snagged the prize—a clean-cut private wealth management advisor, such an impressive-sounding man, somebody you can pull out like a black AmEx when you want to casually dazzle others.

Brielle’s eyes flash, and her mouth curves into a malicious smile. She glides over in the mermaid wedding gown I picked out four months ago specifically because it would make her look twenty pounds heavier around her hips and thighs.

“I can’t believe you’re late to your own wedding, Olivia.” Her voice rings in the air, just loud enough for me, Liam and Tyler to hear.

Liam stiffens, but doesn’t say a word as he shifts, placing himself protectively between me and Brielle without undermining what I’m about to unleash.

“My wedding?” I cock an eyebrow, then eye her dress meaningfully.

“I had to put this on and follow through to save the family’s dignity.”

I stifle a laugh. Hugh’s family never had any to begin with.

“What’s so funny?”

“Was it ever my wedding?” I flick my eyes at Tyler, standing behind her.

She places her hands on her hips. “Wasn’t it?”

“Hugh is paying, so…” I shrug. He’s your dad, not mine.

“Doesn’t matter who’s paying.” Sneering, she leans closer. “You lost. Again.”

“Did I?”

“Don’t act superior. You think you’re special because you grew up in a big fancy mansion and had a pony?” She snorts. “You’ll always lose to me. You can never beat me, Olivia. Never. I’ve got your house, your man, and soon I’ll find a way to get your money too.”

Each of her words plunges into me like a blade. She’s taken more than the house and the man. She’s taken my family, my childhood—and most importantly the ability to give and receive love.

I maintain my bland smile despite the blood dripping from the wounds she’s inflicted. “Are you finished?”

Something on her face cracks.

Liam flicks his thumb. Something flies through the air, and Tyler catches it out of reflex, then frowns at the boring ring in his palm. This was the only thing Liam asked of me when I told him about my plan for the day.

I wrap my hand around his arm, then shift it to show everyone my finger. The Rubedo sparkles under the light.

Brielle stares for a moment, then turns white. “You’re married?”

I nod. “Congratulations, Mrs. Tyler Mercer,” I purr. “May you have all the fortune and hundreds of children and grandchildren.”