Two days before my wedding, my best friend told me to test my fiancé. She didn't believe a notorious playboy like Julian Whitney would ever truly change his ways. Her intuition was rarely wrong, so that night, I created a burner account and slid into his DMs, playing the part of a flirtatious stranger. Julian shot me down so hard I was left spinning. But just as I was caught between relief and amusement, he sent another message, and the world tilted on its axis. 【This little game of yours ends now.】 【Besides you two, I don't play around with other women.】 【Vivi, next time you want to sext me, just use your real account.】 Vivi is my best friend's nickname. 1 As my brain processed those three messages, the blood ran cold in my veins. I squeezed my eyes shut, pinching myself, desperate to wake up. But the frantic, drumming beat of my heart confirmed the horrifying truth: This wasn't a dream. Julian was cheating on me. With Violet. But... how? Weren't they supposed to hate each other? Violet always said Julian was nothing but a rich brat, completely unworthy of me. And Julian always called Violet a pest, the one who relentlessly told me to dump him every time we had a fight. The ringtone of a video call ripped me from my thoughts. Julian. I numbly declined the call. 【Why aren't you answering?】 he texted. 【Don't tell me you're crying.】 【Come to Crestwood. I'll make you feel better.】 【Don't worry. Even after I'm married, I'll still be good to you.】 【Everything Clara has, you'll have too.】 【Including me.】 2 I stared at the screen, a roaring in my ears that seemed to pull my soul from my body. Tears, hot and heavy, began to fall. Through the blur, I remembered the first time I brought Violet to the villa Julian had bought for us. Every detail now seemed sinister. Without me saying a word, she knew exactly where my bedroom was, where the walk-in closet was. When I playfully snatched her phone, I noticed it was already connected to the Wi-Fi. She'd laughed it off, saying she'd just guessed my birthday or something. Julian's Oriental Shorthair, a cat that was usually aloof even with me, had been inexplicably affectionate with her. She said it was probably because she smelled like me. But that cat barely tolerated me, even when I bribed it with toys and treats. Yet it had rolled over and exposed its belly to Violet, a complete stranger. And then there was Violet's apartment, a mirror image of my own life. The same clothes, the same handbags, the same lipsticks and cosmetics. Some of it, Julian had given her through me, under the guise of "keeping my future toughest critic happy." The rest, Violet claimed, were from an admirer. When I’d pressed her for details, excited for the gossip, she’d been evasive. I thought she was just being shy. It turns out, she was hiding a guilty conscience. I remembered all the times we'd gone shopping together, the two of them bickering in front of me, "competing" for my attention. A few times, their mock-hostility had broken, and they'd burst out laughing. And I, like a fool, had been happy that they were finally starting to get along. All this time, they'd been using me as a prop in their twisted flirtation. They'd been playing me for a complete idiot. 3 I cried until my eyes were swollen and my head throbbed. Grabbing my car keys, I floored it and drove to Crestwood. Crestwood was Julian's other property, a sprawling estate where he was putting up his groomsmen. They were having a bachelor party tonight. Julian was there. And so was Violet. Through the wrought-iron fence, I saw them by the pool. Julian looked drunk, his handsome, sharp features flushed a pale red. His eyes were hazy as he draped an arm around Violet's neck, whispering into her ear. Violet pouted, then playfully shoved him into the pool. The groomsmen roared with laughter, their cheers echoing in the night. Julian surfaced, shaking the water from his hair, a wicked grin on his face. He grabbed Violet's ankle and pulled her in after him. As she shrieked, he caught her, lifting her against the pool wall and kissing her with a fierce, dominating passion. The crowd went wild. Someone popped a bottle of champagne; another set off a party popper. And then, someone jokingly mentioned me. "Julian, man, you're marrying Clara in two days. Making out with her best friend isn't a great look, is it?" "Hahaha, what she doesn't know won't hurt her. As long as we keep our mouths shut, Julian could be screwing Vivi right here, and Clara would never have a clue." "There's the Julian I know and love! All that time you spent chasing Clara, acting like she was the only one... was that all an act? I almost bought into that whole 'reformed bad boy' crap from the movies!" Julian finally broke the long, deep kiss. His voice was a magnetic, raspy drawl, laced with a lazy, roguish charm. "I do love Clara. She's the only woman I'll ever marry. I can spoil her, cherish her, grow old with her. But... to ask me to be completely faithful to her at this age..." Julian laughed, then planted a loud, wet kiss on Violet's cheek as she gasped for air against his shoulder. "I can't do it." He lifted Violet out of the pool and set her down on a lounge chair. Someone rushed to hand him a towel, but he draped it over her instead. "Julian, you still heading back tonight?" one of his friends asked. Violet looked up at him, her eyes still red and swollen from the kiss. Julian crouched down, affectionately pinching her cheek. "Clara loves her Vivi more than anyone. I'm a distant second. And right now, Vivi's upset. So of course, I'm staying to keep her company." He waved a hand at the guy behind him. "Ethan, text your sister-in-law for me. Tell her I'm drunk and I'm crashing here tonight. I'll pick her up for the rehearsal tomorrow." Just as a fresh wave of tears began to fall, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Ethan Kingsley, his best man. 【Clara, Julian's had too much to drink, so he won't be back tonight. Get some sleep. He'll come get you for the rehearsal tomorrow.】 4 I stood there for a long time, frozen in place. My mind drifted. My parents died when I was very young, and I was sent to live with my uncle. My cousin bullied me constantly, and my aunt turned a blind eye. The complaints I was too scared to make, Violet made for me. The fights I was too scared to start, Violet started for me. In school, I was the sharper of the two of us. I split every scholarship prize I won with her. She was an only child and didn't care much for studying. In our final year of high school, I dragged her through it, practically spoon-feeding her the knowledge she needed. I was her personal cheerleader, painting a picture of a bright future for us. We both got into the same university in the city. In our sophomore year, I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me. When Violet heard, she stormed into their hotel room, beat up the jerk, and tore into the other woman. After graduation, we shared a single room in a rented apartment, terrified and uncertain about the future. Every night, under the same blanket, we'd dream aloud, making endless promises to take care of each other once one of us made it big. "Ride or die." "First, we share a bed. Then, we share a mansion." We'd been inseparable since childhood. I considered her my family. Maybe blood family wouldn't love me unconditionally, but I believed she would. That's why, when faced with her betrayal, I couldn't even summon the strength for a confrontation. The person who had once fought my battles for me was now my fiancé's other woman. My absolute trust had been met with the cruelest form of treason. As I drove away from Crestwood, the moon hung high and cold in the sky, mirroring the chill in my bones. My mind drifted to Julian. At twenty-five, I had become the lead designer at ArtGrn, the city's top wedding design firm. I was overseeing the setup for Ethan Kingsley's lavish estate wedding. After pulling an all-nighter, my blood sugar crashed, and I fainted, tumbling headfirst into a shallow decorative fountain. Julian, who was just passing by, rescued me. The image of him carrying me in his arms, water dripping from his brow, his deep eyes locked on mine, was the moment I fell for him. I learned about his wealthy family, his reputation as a playboy, and I tried to keep my distance. But Julian gave up all his bad habits and pursued me earnestly for a whole year. His pursuit was respectful, polite, and deeply sincere. One New Year's Eve, I went back to my hometown to visit my parents' graves. My phone died midway. For three hours, I was unreachable. Terrified I had collapsed somewhere from low blood sugar, Julian drove hundreds of miles to find me. He stood on a narrow path between fields, wearing only a thin coat, desperately wiping away tears as he shouted my name into the empty air. In that moment, I thought: Mom, Dad, this is the one. For the rest of my life, I want him. In the three years we dated, I never felt his love wane. He would kneel in a crowded department store to help me try on shoes. He would find traditional herbal remedies for my cramps and personally watch over the pot as it simmered. Before I met his parents, he prepped them thoroughly, ensuring I wouldn't face a single question or ounce of doubt. He proudly took me into his world of wealth and privilege, introducing me to everyone with unabashed pride. "This is my fiancée, Clara Lin, the chief designer at ArtGrn. You can call her Ms. Lin. She's brilliant—won a ton of design awards. That royal wedding for the Duchess of York? That was her. The waiting list for her designs is booked solid for the next two years. Actually, no, it's booked from the year after next, because next year, we're getting married. A huge wedding. You'll all be invited!" His love was so passionate, so perfect. Which made this one flaw feel so monstrous, so fatal. I checked into a hotel and cried my eyes out. I told myself over and over again: So you were backstabbed. So you were cheated on. The wedding hasn't happened. The papers aren't signed. There's still time. I could just run away, get as far from this place, from these demons, as possible. But... I'm not the one who did something wrong. Why should I be the one to slink away in shame? I would get my revenge. And what needed re-evaluating was my judgment, my naivety—not my sincerity or my capacity for love. I did nothing wrong. I am a good person. 5 The next day, for the rehearsal, I returned to the villa early. When Julian arrived to pick me up, I had already composed myself. But he still noticed my swollen eyes. "Were you crying last night?" he asked, bending down to place a soft kiss on my eyelid. A wave of nausea washed over me. "I was thinking about my parents." Julian smiled and knelt to help me with my shoes. "I'm sure they're in heaven, blessing us." I looked at the crown of his head and felt a sudden urge to ask: If you can't be faithful, why did you want to marry me? Don't you know I can't tolerate betrayal? When you were sleeping with Violet behind my back, did it never once cross your mind how much it would hurt me, how it would shatter my heart, if I ever found out? In the end, I bit my tongue and swallowed the words. Julian had been happily telling the world that he was going to throw the most magnificent wedding for me. I was going to personally turn that magnificent wedding into an absurd tragicomedy. And Julian would be the clown, standing center stage. The rehearsal finished in the afternoon. As we were leaving, I told Julian and Violet to wait for me in the car. I went to find my assistant. I had designed this multi-million-dollar wedding, and she was the one coordinating everything. After I told her what I wanted, her face was a mask of worry. She hesitated, wanting to object. I ignored her. I knew my request was unreasonable. A last-minute change of this magnitude would have a domino effect. But I had managed over a hundred weddings. I'd dealt with brides far more demanding and capricious than this. Why couldn't I be a little selfish, just this once? 6 When I got to the car, the driver was gone. Julian was in the passenger seat, Violet in the back. The atmosphere was, as always, painfully awkward. I looked at Violet's slightly swollen lips and gave a scornful little smile. So this is what it was. All those times I saw them red-faced and flustered, it wasn't because they were arguing. It was the thrill of sneaking kisses behind my back. And I, naively, thought they were just fighting. I sat down next to her in the back and closed my eyes, feigning exhaustion. "Where's the driver?" "Bathroom," Julian replied. "I'll call him." I hummed a soft "mm-hmm." Julian turned around and handed me my thermos. The sweet scent of pear and rock sugar filled the air. "Tired?" he asked gently. Then he glared at Violet. "Violet, you come sit up front." "Oh, no," I said, my eyes fluttering open. I grabbed Violet's hand and turned to her with a beaming smile. "Vivi and I have lots of secrets to share." Julian frowned. "What secrets could you possibly have that I can't hear?" My smile widened. "Your secrets, of course. If you heard them, you'd probably throw her out of the car." Julian snorted. "My little critic, I don't care how much you object to this marriage. Clara and I have made it. From now on, you'd better watch your mouth." Violet, seeming to guess something was wrong, didn't snap back as she usually would. Her face stiffened, and she glanced at me guiltily. I leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "I was at Crestwood last night." She flinched, pulling her hand from mine as if she'd been electrocuted. I figured she must have gotten the story from Julian last night—that I had "tested" him. But she couldn't be sure what I knew, so she'd been trying to get it out of me all day. I let out a soft laugh, fighting back the stabbing pain in my heart. My voice turned cruel. "I saw everything. Your sordid little affair, your betrayal. Oh, my dearest Vivi. My wonderful best friend. You've been so, so good to me." Violet clutched at her skirt. She turned her face away, but I grabbed her chin and forced her to look at me. She tried to signal to Julian, but he wasn't looking. An old acquaintance was greeting him from outside, and he'd gotten out of the car. Violet tried to follow, but I gripped her wrist. "Where are you running?" I said, my voice cold as ice. "Isn't this all going according to your plan? I find out about your betrayal before the wedding, I call it off, and you step in. You weren't afraid to expose yourself, so why are you so scared now that I've seen it with my own eyes? The outcome is the same, isn't it?" She stopped struggling, turned back, and bit her lip, staring at me. I took a moment to compose myself. "You knew I tested Julian, and you still dared to show up at the rehearsal today. You wanted to see how I'd react, didn't you? Well, I'll tell you how I'm going to react. I'm not going to follow your script. I'm going to marry Julian. We're going to get the license." I watched the shock spread across her face and laughed. "You don't believe a playboy can change. Well, neither do I. Which of these rich boys doesn't have a wife at home and a string of mistresses on the side? You think I'd marry Julian without being prepared for that? The real question is about you. You've fallen for him, haven't you? But does he really care about you? As anything more than a toy? You can't possibly be foolish enough to believe his sweet talk. Do you want to bet that if I expose what happened last night, Julian will throw you out on the street and then get on his knees and beg for my forgiveness? He'll feel so guilty, he'll probably treat me even better for a few years. And you? What do you think he'll do to you?" Tears welled up in Violet's eyes. My heart constricted. I took a deep, shuddering breath, my own voice breaking. "You threw away twenty years of friendship... for a man like him?" Violet buried her head in her hands, covering her ears. I turned away, unable to stop my own tears. The pain. It was excruciating. Like something that had been rooted in my heart for decades, tangled and deep, was being ripped out, taking flesh and blood with it. It hurt so much I could barely breathe. "Why are you crying?" Julian was back in the passenger seat. He saw our state and his brow furrowed instantly. "Violet, what did you say to her? Why is she crying?" He got out of the car and squeezed into the back with us. His voice was stern. "Violet, go ride with the bridesmaids." Her face went pale. She stared at him, her lips trembling in disbelief. "Didn't you hear me?" Julian's voice was sharp, a clear dismissal. Violet wiped her tears and slammed the car door as she left. Julian pulled me into his arms. "Baby," he murmured, "tell me what you two were talking about." Outside, I saw Violet flinch. "You misunderstood," I choked out. "We were just... sharing some emotional best-friend secrets." Julian's frown deepened. "What's wrong with her? Saying things like that at a time like this? What if it affects your mood? You have to get your makeup done tomorrow, what if your eyes are all swollen..." He said it loudly, his voice carrying through the window. It was like a dull knife, pressing into Violet's back, urging her to walk away faster. 7 The day of the wedding. The castle was magnificent, the lawns sprawling and green. I wore a pristine white gown, arriving in a horse-drawn carriage adorned with flowers. The clip-clop of hooves, the beautiful melody of the string quartet. Julian stood on the lawn in a sharp, tailored suit, his eyes bright as he waited for me. I took his hand, stepped down from the carriage, and we walked together toward the altar. Petals rained down, butterflies fluttered by, and the applause was thunderous. After the officiant's opening words, Julian went off-script, delivering a ten-minute declaration of his love for me. I could see his chin trembling, his hands shaking. By the end, his eyes were red and wet, his voice quivering. He talked about the first time we met. He talked about the day we made our relationship official. He talked about all the small, tender moments we had shared. But all I could hear was his voice from that night by the pool: "...but to ask me to be completely faithful to her, I can't do it." The moment a tear rolled down my cheek, Julian pulled me into a fierce hug. I could feel his heart hammering against his chest. He was so nervous, so incredibly happy. I think, in his own way, he did love me. His vows were real. His betrayal was also real. Somehow, those two contradictory things existed at the same time. The officiant gave his closing remarks. The vow exchange had been moved to the evening reception. This was different from the rehearsal. Julian shot a surprised look at the officiant. I tugged on his sleeve. "It was my idea," I whispered. That evening, surrounded by flowers, under a canopy of sparkling lights, I met Julian's ecstatic gaze and said the words: "I don't." The officiant was stunned. The guests gasped. The happiness in Julian's eyes was instantly replaced by shock, which slowly hardened into fury. He stared at me, his gaze burning. I met it calmly. The clock tower struck eight. The lights above us went out, and across the lake, fireworks ignited the sky. A kaleidoscope of colors and shapes exploded across the night, beautiful and dazzling, their reflections shimmering on the water like a dream. I watched for a moment, then unfastened the train of my dress and gracefully descended the stage. The wedding I had so meticulously planned, every detail a labor of love, was finally over.
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