Chapter 3
She turned back to me and took my hand.
“Claire, please don’t be angry with Grant.”
“He pulled several all-nighters getting ready for this wedding. He was so frantic on the road just now that his eyes were red-rimmed.”
“No one wanted something like this to happen. Go easy on him when he gets here, okay?”
This was my best friend.
Every word defended Grant. Every word was meant to guilt me into playing the patient, forgiving fiancée.
I sat quietly as the makeup artist pressed a powder sponge against my face.
“I’m not angry.”
“I’ll wait here.”
Tessa visibly relaxed and moved over to the couch.
She took out her phone, lowered her head, and began typing rapidly.
As I adjusted my skirt, I kept the spare phone half-hidden in my palm and watched Tessa post in the group.
Tessa: [Don’t worry. It’s handled. She won’t make a scene.]
Tessa: [She really said she’d switch grooms? I’m dying. She’s so hopelessly obsessed with Grant she’d stay with him no matter what.]
Tessa: [All I have to do is make up some excuse, and she won’t question a thing. She’s as obedient as a trained dog.]
A new message immediately appeared.
Ethan: [Nice work, Tessa. When this is over, I’ll have Grant give you a fat bonus.]
Tessa: [Honestly, Serena looks absolutely stunning in that couture gown today. Claire’s dress from some obscure indie label, on the other hand… God, it looks embarrassingly cheap.]
The two of them fed off each other, tearing me down and praising Serena without the slightest restraint.
My thoughts drifted back four years.
Tessa’s family had gone bankrupt, leaving her without enough money even to feed herself.
I took freelance drafting jobs and worked until midnight every night, using the extra money to buy her a suit for job interviews.
Later, when Grant’s company finally found its footing, I spent an entire week badgering him until he placed Tessa in one of the company’s key divisions.
Besides Ethan, I had considered her the closest person to me in the entire world.
I took out my own phone and found an email I had scheduled to be sent later.
It was an internal recommendation addressed to the director of one of the country’s leading architectural research institutes.
I deleted the lengthy, glowing recommendation I had written and left only one brief sentence.
[Mr. Walsh, I’m sorry, but please remove Tessa Morgan from the list of candidates I recommended to the institute.]
I closed my email app and opened my WhatsApp contacts.
I tapped into one conversation.
Three seconds later, a single word appeared beside a solid-black profile picture.
[Address.]
I sent him my location.
No other message came from the account with the solid-black profile picture.
That didn’t matter. I knew he would come.
The ceremony was scheduled to begin in ten minutes.
I pushed open the side door of the dressing room and headed toward the terrace at the end of the hall for some air.
The glass door to the terrace had been left slightly ajar.
A gust of night air carrying cigarette smoke and alcohol drifted inside.
It also carried the sound of Tessa laughing and joking with several men.
They were friends Grant had grown up with, and they were serving as his groomsmen.
“Tessa, Grant’s really not coming back?” one of the groomsmen asked as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, his voice full of excitement at the unfolding spectacle. “Claire’s supposed to walk down the aisle any minute. What’s she going to do up there alone?”
“Why would he come back? They’re still partying outside the honeymoon suite!”
Tessa’s voice was slightly slurred and unmistakably smug.
“You guys really doubt Grant’s stamina? Here—let me show you something spicy.”