Chapter1

To pay for the wedding, I took out a loan from loan sharks.

On the day itself, the venue was empty. I waited in that vineyard all afternoon in my wedding dress—

My fiancé had run off with my best friend and every dollar I had.

With nowhere left to turn, a man said he could help. One condition: be his stand-in bride for a year.

I thought I was signing away my freedom. Until that night, when he pushed me into his study.

He asked, “Leave, or stay and be my partner?”

I clutched the contract I’d only signed because the loan sharks gave me no choice.

Stay? Would this year bring happiness, transaction—or torment?

……

My wedding day turned into a missing person case.

I stood in a Hamptons vineyard wearing my wedding dress, staring at fifty empty chairs.

No guests. No music. No man I was supposed to marry.

"Call one more time," I told the venue coordinator. My voice was shaking.

She looked at me like I was insane. "Ma'am, I already told you. The booking was canceled. Last week."

I pulled out my phone. Dialed Michael. Straight to voicemail.

Dialed Chloe, my best friend, my wedding planner. Same thing.

"They're not picking up," I said.

The coordinator sighed. "Maybe you could try the hotel?"

I called. The hotel said Mr. Michael Ross had checked out yesterday. No message left.

I stood there, phone clutched in my hand.

The dress bodice was too tight. I couldn't breathe.

That deposit came from my Aunt Rose's hot dog cart—a whole year's rent squeezed out.

She said every girl deserved a perfect day.

Michael and Chloe took the money. They took it together and disappeared.

I tore off my veil, threw it on the ground, and walked over it.

At three in the afternoon, I was sitting in a booth at the End of the Pier bar, my wedding dress spilling across the entire seat.

The bartender poured me a double whiskey.

"Groom ran?" he asked.

"Ran." I threw back the drink. My throat burned. "With my best friend and all my money."

"Damn." He poured another.

I had three drinks. Maybe four. Things started going double.

I slapped my last cash on the table.

"Good luck, bride," the bartender said.

I stumbled out. I didn't know where to go, just walked along the roadside.

My heels caught in the brick cracks. I nearly fell.

The light was red, but I didn't stop.

My brain wouldn't work. I just wanted to get away from here, away from this day when everything went to hell.

Tires screamed through the air. A force yanked me down. I hit the ground, my elbows scraping pavement.

A black car stopped in front of me, inches from hitting me.

A Rolls Royce. Windows so dark you couldn't see inside.

The driver's door opened. A man got out wearing a suit, face hard as stone.

"You ran a red light."

I struggled to stand. My knee was bleeding, wedding dress covered in dirt.

"You almost hit me!"

"I was driving within the legal speed limit." He looked me over, eyes sweeping across my filthy wedding dress and flushed face. "And you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk!" I yelled back. But my voice was floating.

He shook his head, turned to examine his front bumper. There was a thin scratch, like a scar against the black paint.

"You're paying for this," he said, back to me.

Paying. The word slammed into my brain.

Michael took all my money. Chloe took it.

Now this stranger wanted me to pay too.

I looked down at my feet. Wedding shoes, ivory, stiletto heels. I bent down and took off the right one.

"What are you doing?" He turned around.

I didn't answer. My drunk brain turned vicious.

I raised the shoe and smashed the heel into his taillight.

I couldn't get back at them, but this guy was still here, caught by me, and he was bullying me too.

I wanted revenge.

"Stop!" he shouted.

I hit it again, then turned to the headlights. The heel punched through the paint, carving a long silver wound. I smashed the side mirror. It wobbled and fell, hanging by the wires.

I scratched the hood, scratched the doors. Glass shards sprayed onto my legs.

Finally I stopped, still clutching the shoe. All the lights were smashed, the body covered in scratches.

The man didn't move. He just stood there watching, like I was performing some street theater.

I was breathing hard. I threw the mangled shoe at his feet. "Satisfied?"

He looked at the car, then at me. "You'll be getting a repair bill."

"Whatever." I turned, one foot bare, and walked toward the curb.

Miraculously, there was a taxi. I yanked the door open and climbed in, my skirt still caught outside. "Drive."

As the car pulled away, I saw him in the rearview mirror, still standing there, looking down at his phone.

Screw him. I slumped in the back seat. Tears finally came. Quiet. Scalding.

I leaned back against the seat, closed my eyes. My hands were shaking.

I'd just destroyed a car probably worth more than I'd earn in a lifetime. I'd pissed off someone who drives that kind of car.

My phone vibrated in my hand. A text from the loan shark.

I shut off the phone, pressed my head against the window.