The night before my wedding, I received an anonymous email.

Inside was a single link to a private gossip blog, a digital confessional for the elite.

The headline screamed: "SILICON VALLEY'S PRINCE AND HIS BRIDESMAID: A FORBIDDEN AFFAIR."

The post quoted an inside source:

"The groom walks down the aisle tomorrow. But tonight, he’s with the bridesmaid."

"Don't get me wrong, their connection is purely physical. The one he truly loves is his fiancée."

"The arrangement is mutually beneficial. His fiancée can't satisfy certain... needs. But the bridesmaid? She indulges his wilder side."

"Besides, the bridesmaid is the bride's best friend. She’d never do anything to hurt her."

I knew instantly. The groom, heir to a Silicon Valley magnate; the bride, an Ivy League-educated architect; the wedding, a private vineyard in Napa Valley. The "prince" was my fiancé, Troy.

This former NCAA star quarterback once swore he’d give me the world. He spent three years proving his devotion through countless nights of tender intimacy before I finally said yes.

In our seven years together, he had loved me with an almost obsessive devotion, just as he had promised.

So much so that he could never bring himself to be rough with me.

On pure, destructive impulse, I activated the security camera I’d hidden in the groom's suite.

There, in the vineyard where we were supposed to exchange vows, two naked bodies writhed under the dim lights.

On Chloe's wrist, the custom Cartier bracelet Troy had given me—the one needing a special screwdriver to be removed—gleamed against the jagged scar she’d gotten saving my life. A bitter, perfect irony.

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1

Everything Troy did for me was on a grand scale.

But the most insane thing he ever did was set his own future on fire.

He had been a star college football quarterback, a multi-million dollar NFL contract practically in his grasp.

But during the NCAA championship game, to prove to the world that he loved me more than anything, he intentionally fumbled. He threw the game.

Just like that, his career was over.

Everyone called him a fool, but he just smiled and insisted I was worth it.

The ensuing media storm was so all-consuming that almost no one noticed my family imploding, or that I was drowning myself in alcohol.

Troy knew I couldn't handle it alone. My father was jailed for financial fraud. My mother was the one who called the police. Then she swallowed an entire bottle of pills right in front of me.

To keep me from self-destructing, he let me take my pain out on him, his own body enduring my desperate scratches.

He chased away the reporters and creditors who circled our house like vultures.

When I finally surfaced from the fog, a month had passed. He was gaunt, his eyes hollowed out from exhaustion.

But Troy only said, "Scarlett, I promised I would always be there for you."

In that moment, I knew. He was the one.

So when Chloe vehemently objected to my engagement to Troy, I told her no for the first time in my life.

I’d never been able to refuse her anything, not since she saved my life at that lakeside party in college.

That was the day my father's scandal broke.

I got blackout drunk and stumbled straight into the icy lake.

Chloe, who had been strolling by the water with friends, dove in without a second thought.

She shoved me toward the bank, but a submerged rock tore a long gash across her back.

She spent over a month in the hospital.

When she woke up, she just joked, "Good thing you're alive. Who else would buy me designer bags?"

She even teased that she could have sued my family for a massive settlement.

I was young, but not stupid.

She always used the allowance I gave her to buy all sorts of luxuries, yet she would secretly set aside the limited-edition pieces for me, insisting they looked better on me.

From that day on, we were inseparable.

No matter how badly her grades slipped, I moved heaven and earth to keep her in the same schools I attended.

It was the same in college; I covered all her expenses, letting her live a carefree life.

My life began to revolve around hers.

People said I was brainwashed, that Chloe was a parasite who couldn't survive without me.

But they didn't understand. My parents treated me like a pawn in their twisted games. Chloe was the only family I had.

I relied on her so much that when she threw a tantrum over my relationship with Troy, I completely missed the flicker of jealousy and panic in her eyes.

In the beginning, Troy’s hostility toward Chloe was palpable.

He seethed over how Chloe remained the center of my universe, consuming my time and energy.

I would forget his birthday or our anniversaries, but I never missed a single one of Chloe's important dates.

The gifts I bought for Troy were usually afterthoughts, things I picked up while shopping for her.

If Chloe called while I was on a date with Troy, I would drop everything and run to her side.

To be honest, back then, Chloe’s new Hermès bag was probably more important to me than Troy.

Growing up watching my parents' toxic marriage unfold, I had long ago given up on finding love from any man.

It didn't matter if they were after my looks or my family's fortune; my suitors' eyes were just mirrors for their own selfish desires.

I only agreed to date Troy on a whim after Chloe casually mentioned I was too clingy and should get out more. Yet, somehow, he was the one who broke through my defenses.

When he looked at me, there were no calculations in his gaze.

Only me.

For years, it had been that way.

He was willing to do anything to make me happy.

And he never demanded anything in return, not like my mother, who was always screaming about what she was owed.

So, after realizing how important Chloe was to me, Troy didn't try to bad-mouth her or drive a wedge between us like others had.

Instead, he started introducing her to a parade of financial prodigies and artists he found on various high-end dating apps.

Predictably, Chloe, who reveled in being surrounded by admirers, no longer had time to meddle in my life.

Glancing at another missed call from Chloe, I sighed and took the list of potential dates Troy handed me.

"Is this your grand plan to get me alone? Offering up every man in your contacts to Chloe?"

"Chloe isn't that easily distracted. What happens when you run out of guys to throw her way?"

Troy just smiled, wrapping a cashmere scarf around my neck.

"Then I'll download more apps. We'll see who gives up first: Chloe from dumping them, or me from finding them."

"Even if she goes through every man in New York City, it's fine."

"I have friends on the West Coast, and in Europe."

"Worst case, I have a few handsome cousins I can offer up."

He made me laugh.

For the first time, a strange warmth bloomed in my chest.

So, this was love? Not just fiery passion, but endless patience and clever strategy?

My parents had never taught me that. And Chloe couldn't have.

It was Troy who made me want to learn how to love.

We were together for seven years. For seven years, Troy was a constant source of new men for Chloe.

I just couldn't fathom what wire had crossed in his brain that led him to sleep with her.

And how did Troy, a man who was with me nearly twenty-four-seven, manage to keep it a perfect secret?

I saved the security footage and had my assistant, Harper, pull all the surveillance from my office and our home.

Harper and her team spent two hours poring over the footage. They found nothing.

It was as if the whole thing had been a waking nightmare.

But I had a gut feeling I was about to discover exactly where they'd been hiding their little secret.

The cloud storage for the car's smart speaker held several gigabytes of files—mostly audio clips from inside the car.

My assistant, Harper, spoke cautiously. "Scarlett, the oldest files are from two years ago."

I knew what she was implying.

From the very first recording I heard, their rhythm was already practiced and fluid.

They had been doing this for much longer than I had imagined.

I clicked on an audio file.

Of course. The timestamp matched my weekly equestrian therapy session.

The day my mother killed herself began with an unheard-of gesture: she brought me a home-cooked meal. It was my senior year of college.

I had never eaten a meal she'd cooked. Her life revolved around placating my father, especially after his string of affairs.

A home-cooked meal from my mother—something I thought I no longer needed.

But when it was right in front of me, I realized I was still that little girl, desperate for a sliver of her mother's attention.

I let my guard down so easily. After all, the only person who ever cooked for me was Troy.

Then, right in front of me, she swallowed the entire bottle of pills.

Thank God Troy arrived in time.

By the time the paramedics loaded me into the ambulance, my mother wasn't breathing.

Her last words, spat at me with a contorted face, were: "If I had never had you, I would never have become this woman your father despises."

Since then, I had to go to the stables twice a week for therapy.

Troy drove me every time.

And in that one-hour window, he and Chloe carried on their affair in his car.

The latest recording was from the week before the wedding.

I heard Chloe light a cigarette, her voice a lazy drawl.

"We should probably stop after the wedding."

Troy chuckled. "What, doubting my stamina? You think I can't handle both of you?"

Chloe sighed. "I just... I feel like it's not fair to Scarlett."

Troy scoffed. "You didn't seem too worried about 'fair' when you were drunk and unbuckling my belt, or all those other times you threw yourself at me. And you definitely weren't whispering 'unfair' when you were screaming my name."

I heard the sound of a hand moving, the rustle of fabric, followed by her short, sharp gasp.

"Admit it. No one can make you feel like I do."

"If we stop, you'll never feel this again."

Chloe's voice came out in fractured pieces.

"But—but I don't want Scarlett to get hurt."

"We both know how much she hates cheaters. Her father is proof enough."

Troy let out a low, soft laugh.

"I love Scarlett more than you do. The last thing I want is for her to be hurt."

"That's why I can't be rough with her, not like I am with you."

"If you leave, and I lose control and find someone else... what if she's not as careful as you? What if she doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut, how to make sure Scarlett never finds out?"

"Chloe, us being together is how we protect Scarlett. Don't you get it?"

A long silence followed. Finally, she whispered.

"Yes. We're doing this for Scarlett."

The computer screen went black.

Harper looked at my face, her expression grave.

"Scarlett, do you need me to cancel the wedding?"

I touched the faint mark on my wrist where the bracelet used to be and shook my head.

"No. We've been preparing for too long. It would be a shame to cancel."

"But do me a favor. Book Chloe the best stylist in Hollywood."