Chapter 1

My husband was marrying someone else. And his new bride hired me to do her make up.

Right before the wedding ceremony began, I received the payment.

And the memo read:

[Final payment for Miss Tedd's bridal makeup. Settled by groom Carl Lanion.]

Carl Lanion.

My husband's name.

I immediately pulled up the client file. Sure enough, his name was also listed under the bride's emergency contact.

Relationship: Husband.

I stared at that single word, my fingertips going cold.

At that exact moment, Carl sent me a message:

[Honey, don't wear yourself out today. I'm working late at the office.]

I replied:

[Okay.]

Then I took screenshots of every chat, every transfer record, and the entire client contract, saving them all.

Half an hour later, the groom arrived to fetch the bride.

Carl pushed open the door, beaming, dressed in a crisp white suit.

The moment he saw me, his step faltered.

But the bride was already clinging to his arm, all sugar and affection.

"Sweetie, this is the MUA I told you about."

I lifted my head and extended my hand with a smile.

"Mr. Lanion, congratulations on your wedding."

"I received the final payment. And the evidence."

...

The color drained from Carl's face in a single heartbeat.

The smug, breezy smile he'd worn just seconds ago now stiffened into something that looked like cheap plaster.

Heather Tedd noticed nothing amiss. She even pouted and gave him a playful shove.

"Sweetie, what's gotten into you? She is congratulating you."

Carl swallowed hard, his throat bobbing painfully.

He forced himself to take my hand. His palm was slick with cold sweat.

"Th... thank you."

I tightened my grip, still smiling.

"My pleasure. Mr. Lanion looks dashing today. The suit fits beautifully."

"I just wonder whether the fabric will hold up under closer scrutiny."

Carl yanked his hand back, his eyes flashing with warning and panic.

He immediately turned to Heather. "Sweetheart, all the guests are here. Why don't we let her go? She doesn't need to stay for the rest of the ceremony."

He was desperate to get me out of that room.

Before I could speak, Heather objected.

"Absolutely not!"

She flung Carl's hand aside and sat back down at the vanity.

"I'm only getting married once in this life. Every single detail has to be perfect."

"This eyeliner she just did—the more I look at it, the more uneven it seems."

Heather shot me a sidelong glance in the mirror, her tone laced with condescending disdain.

"You. Come over here and redo it."

I didn't move. My voice stayed level.

"Miss Tedd, you confirmed it was fine just a moment ago."

Heather slammed her palm on the vanity.

"So I didn't look carefully the first time. What of it?"

"You're just the hired help. Shut up and do your job!"

"My husband paid double the final fee. He bought your service, and you'd better serve me properly."

Carl was beside himself, sweating bullets.

He kept dabbing at his forehead, trying to pull Heather to her feet.

"Sweetheart, let it go. The makeup looks great. The ceremony's about to start—we can't be late."

Heather shook him off, her face darkening instantly.

"Carl, what's your problem?"

"It's our wedding day and you're taking some outsider's side?"

"Don't tell me you've got a thing for her because she's got a pretty face?"

Carl flinched and waved his hands frantically, scrambling to prove his loyalty.

"How could I, sweetheart! You're the most beautiful woman in the world to me!"

"She's nothing—just some makeup girl. How could she ever compare to you?"

To pacify Heather, he didn't hesitate to throw me under the bus.

I looked at his groveling face and felt my stomach turn.

This was the husband I'd been married to for three years. The man who made me breakfast every morning, who swore up and down he'd only ever love me.

"Well, since Mr. Lanion says so..."

I stepped forward, picked up a makeup brush, my voice utterly devoid of warmth.

"Miss Tedd, how would you like it changed?"

Heather lifted her chin in triumph, like a rooster crowing over its defeated rival.

"Take it all off. Start over."

"I want the look of a rightful wife—something with presence. Got it?"

"Not whatever cheap, sneaking-around mistress look you've put on me."

She was clearly aiming her words at me, eyes flashing with provocation.

I quietly switched on the voice recorder on my phone and set it down on the vanity.

"Of course. As you wish."