Chapter 2

Before boarding, Sean checked his phone. Seeing no missed calls from me, he posted a photo of the airport lounge on his Instagram: "Chasing the Northern Lights with someone special. Don't worry, I'll be back."

I saw it and casually tapped the like button.

A second later, his call came through.

"Scarlett! You saw it?"

"Need something?"

"You've really crossed the line this time. Having the tailor call me? Don't bother ordering me a suit."

"It wasn't for you." My mistake—I had forgotten to give the shop Hunter's direct number.

"What did you say?" His voice spiked.

I sighed, exhausted. "I said, it's not for you. Don't flatter yourself."

He gave a bitter laugh. "Fine. Great!"

He hung up. I didn't bother calling back. For the sake of our families' business relations, I didn't block him yet. But there was nothing left between us.

Moments later, Gemma sent me a photo on Snapchat—her and Sean, fingers intertwined.

"Don't be mad, Scarlett! Once Sean watches the lights with me, he'll come back and marry you. Pushing the date back a few days is no big deal!"

I screenshotted the image and replied smoothly: "Have fun."

She probably didn't expect that.

In the past, I would have called her screaming. Today, I felt dead calm.

For five years, Gemma had lingered in our relationship like a bad smell. Whenever I complained, Sean would say: "She's my childhood best friend! Don't be so dramatic. If I wanted to be with her, I would've been with her years ago!"

And now, hiding behind the label of "best friends," they did things only lovers do, calling it "honoring a bet." It was sickening.

I was completely done. I locked my phone and set it aside.

Hunter Vance was already waiting for me at the bridal boutique.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror—stunning and radiant in ivory lace—a genuine smile crept across my face.

Hunter's deep voice came from behind me. "Gorgeous. Too late to back out now, by the way."

"I'm not backing out."

"Sure about that?"

"One hundred percent. What about you? Aren't you worried about losing Sean as a friend?"

Hunter stepped closer, his hands resting naturally on my waist as he murmured against my ear, "A disloyal scumbag like him isn't worth calling a friend."

I smiled. His throat bobbed, and he cleared his throat, taking a polite step back. "That dress. It's the one."

Right after the fitting, the hotel coordinator texted our planning group: "Ms. Sinclair, final confirmation on the reception bar menu."

I typed back: "Looks great. No strawberries in any cocktails, please. He's severely allergic."

Suddenly, a message popped up in the chat from Sean: "Scarlett, I'm not allergic to strawberries. You're losing your mind."

"And I told you the party is postponed. If you keep pushing this charade, how are you going to save face?"

Ah. I had forgotten to remove him from the group chat.

Without a word, I kicked Sean Sterling out of the group.

He blew up my phone immediately. I ignored his calls and muted his texts.

Thousands of miles away in a luxury hotel in Finland, Sean was pacing restlessly.

Gemma was filming the snow outside. Seeing his gloomy expression, she tugged his arm. "Stop staring at your phone! Take pictures of me!"

He shoved her hand away. "Not now!"

Gemma blinked, shocked. Then she caught sight of his screen, an idea popping into her head. She sent a quick text to a friend back home.