Chapter 1

At my final bridal fitting, I stepped out of the dressing room to find my sister, Daphne, straightening my fiancé Nolan's bow tie.

Nolan Hayes—the mafia Don feared throughout Boston's underworld.

I had just opened my mouth to say, “I'll do it,” when the makeup artist smiled and walked toward Daphne.

“Right this way, bride.”

I stopped short.

Nolan did not correct her. The black-suited guards stationed outside the door kept their eyes forward. Daphne only smiled shyly and leaned against him.

Meanwhile, Miles—my childhood friend—raised his camera and began taking pictures of them.

I stood frozen, like an outsider.

Nearly every photo on Miles's camera was of Daphne and my fiancé. There wasn't a single shot of me—the actual bride.

Daphne spoke as naturally as though she were the one getting married.

“Fiona, bring me that bouquet.”

When Nolan noticed I had not moved, he came over and gently took the flowers from my hands. Those eyes of his, eyes that had terrified countless men across negotiating tables, held a rare trace of warmth.

“Fiona, what are you staring at? Go choose the invitation design. I'll come over when we're done with the photos.”

Miles lowered the camera just enough for one eye to appear above the viewfinder.

“Fiona, move a couple of steps to the side. You're blocking the light.”

I moved without a word and stood in the corner.

At that moment, I finally understood how unnecessary I was.

If this wedding had no need for me, then I wouldn't be there.

...

I quietly picked up my bag from the bench and pushed open the door.

The bell above it chimed once.

No one called after me.

I looked back.

Daphne was twirling in front of the mirror while Nolan stood behind her, adjusting the bow at her waist.

Miles held up his camera.

“Yes, yes. That's the angle.”

The shutter clicked five or six times in quick succession.

I turned away and walked out of the boutique.

As I got into my car, the two black sedans assigned to protect me fell in behind me without a sound.

My phone lit up with a message from the wedding planner.

Miss Bennett, the wedding is coming up. Have you chosen the invitation design?

Before I could answer, another message arrived.

Or you could let your sister choose. She has excellent taste.

The car was so quiet that I could hear every breath I took.

One after another, as though I were counting something.

What was I counting?

How many times I had been forgotten in this relationship?

I typed three words.

Let her decide.

I meant it.

Let Daphne decide. Nolan would listen to her in the end anyway.

The reply came almost instantly.

Got it.

I stared at those words and imagined the planner breathing a sigh of relief. Every decision the bride made was always changed afterward. They were probably tired of revising the plans over and over. It was easier to let my sister make the decisions from the start.

Before I could put my phone down, notifications began pouring in.

Miles was uploading photos to the group chat one by one.

I opened one.

His composition was excellent. The light fell perfectly across their faces. Nolan stood in a sharply tailored black suit, and the two of them looked like the stars of a bridal campaign announcing the future wife of the Hayes Don.

I had poured everything into this wedding, as though doing so could prove that I was not always the one who got forgotten.

I never imagined that, in the end, I would still be pushed out of the frame.

My phone lit up, went dark, then lit up again.

Messages kept filling the group chat.

I did not respond.

No one noticed.

I dismissed my escort detail and drove alone to the apartment I had been renting.

A note was stuck to the refrigerator.

Seven days until the wedding.

I peeled it off, crushed it into a ball, and dropped it into the trash.