Three days before the wedding, my fiancé showed up at my door with four groomsmen in tow.

He watched them put their hands all over me—watched them slide their fingers up under my skirt—and didn't say a word.

"Messing with the bride is tradition around here. You wouldn't want to go and break the rules now, would you, sister-in-law?"

They all burst out laughing, eyes on me like I was a lamb lined up for slaughter.

I fought with everything I had, but I was no match for the strength of four grown men.

My fiancé's childhood sweetheart was right there the whole time, smoothing things over with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Sister-in-law, this is everyone's way of giving you their blessing."

"Resisting like this—do you not want your marriage to go smoothly?"

In the chaos, I grabbed the bedside lamp and smashed it on the floor. The crash froze everyone in place.

"Then the blessing's all yours."

"Want it?"

……

The sudden violence startled them to their feet, and for a moment no one moved.

One of the men backed up Claire's little speech.

"Whoa, sister-in-law, what are you doing? Claire's got it right—we're just here to wish you and Phil well."

"Pull a stunt like that and you're making Phil look bad in front of all of us."

The others nodded along eagerly, but I didn't miss the mocking amusement in their eyes.

I pulled my clothes tighter around myself, trying to cover what had been exposed.

The gesture only made them restless again.

"Don't bother covering up—it'll just be more trouble to take off later."

"You don't get it, sister-in-law. The rougher we go, the more sincere the blessing."

The one who'd been leading them said this as he reached his hand straight toward my chest.

I didn't say a word. I slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

The room went dead silent.

Phil, who hadn't said a single word this whole time, finally opened his mouth—face twisted with anger.

"Irene Gilbert! What the hell are you doing?"

"I grew up with these guys—ran around bare-assed together since we were kids. How could you lay a hand on him?"

Claire stepped forward then.

"It's these idiots' fault for taking it too far. They never know when to shut up. Don't take it to heart, sister-in-law."

"You and Phil are getting married in three days. We're all family here—nobody meant any harm."

"Look, both sides got a little out of line. Just drink one as an apology, and we'll put the whole thing behind us."

At some point she'd gone to the living room and come back with a glass of wine. She held it out toward me as she spoke, not bothering to hide the triumph in her eyes.

I gave Claire one cold look, then shifted my gaze to Phil, standing right behind her.

Gone was the irritation he'd just shown me.

Now Phil was smiling, watching Claire's back with an easy, indulgent look—like nothing else in the room even registered.

As if she were the only person in the world who existed for him.

When I said nothing, Claire turned to Phil.

"Sister-in-law's still upset with us. I guess we really did take the joke too far."

"How about this—I'll drink one myself. Don't be mad, sister-in-law. Nobody meant anything by it..."

Before she could finish, Phil had already snatched the glass out of her hand.

"Come on, put that down. Drinking's no good for you."

"Hanging around with us all the time—what, you actually think you're one of the boys now?"

Claire laughed and punched his arm playfully.

"See, only you know how to look after someone."

Phil grinned, tipped the glass back, and drained it in one go.

The two of them carried on like no one else was in the room. I watched them, and all I could think was how laughable it was.

"She's a girl, and I'm not?"

The moment the words left my mouth, the smile on Phil's face froze.

"Irene, don't overthink it, I was just—"

What cut Phil off was the slap I cracked across his face.

Claire grabbed him and pulled him behind her instantly.

"Seriously, Irene? You're going to throw a fit over this? He already said sorry—what more do you want?"

"Phil and I grew up together. He had a drink for me. What's the big deal?"

The groomsmen chimed in one after another.

"Relax, sister-in-law, don't be like that. Claire might as well be a dude to us. We've all been this way since we were kids."

"You and Phil are getting married in three days. After that we're all family. It's nothing. Really, it's nothing."

I couldn't be bothered to waste another second on any of them. I turned and headed for the door.

Phil stepped in front of me.

"I went out of my way to invite every one of them. And you're going to embarrass me in front of—"

He hadn't finished the sentence before I walked straight past him and out of the house.

At the front gate, I pulled out my phone and called my father.

"Dad. Call off the wedding. I'm done with Phil."

"I'm marrying his brother. Merlin."

Early the next morning, I went back to the bridal suite Phil had arranged.

With only three days until the wedding, there were plenty of my things in that apartment.

Since I wasn't marrying him anymore, I was going to take back what was mine.

I opened the front door and the filthy sounds hit me before I'd taken a single step inside.

Claire's voice had gone syrupy and cloying, every syllable dripping with a kittenish heat that was nothing like last night's one-of-the-boys act.

"She was already furious last night. How do you still dare?"

"What if she catches on? She'll drop you like that."

Phil's voice was hoarse, thick with lust.

"Relax. She's liked me for years. She finally gets to marry me—you think she'd ever walk away from that?"

"Come on, you know the deal. If I didn't need a kid, why the hell would I marry her?"

"Don't worry. Once we're married and she's pregnant and delivers the baby, I'll divorce her. Then you and I can be together out in the open."

Their pillow talk drifted out in fragments.

So that was it. Phil was marrying me for one reason only—he needed someone to bear his child.

The longer I listened, the harder the tears fell, dropping heavy and fast.

The truth was, Claire and Phil weren't the only childhood sweethearts.

Phil and I had grown up together too.

The first time I saw him, I was six years old. His parents brought him and his older brother to our house for a visit.

But I'd just been scolded by my mother and was hiding in the little garden, crying where no one could see.

Little Phil stood in front of me, helpless at the sight of my tears, hands fidgeting at his sides.

He scrunched up his face and stared for a long moment, as though working out some impossible problem.

Finally, he held out his hand. Two butterscotch candies sat in his palm, small and bright.

"Hey, don't cry. Here—candy. Pretty girls stop being pretty when they cry, you know?"

I took the two candies, and the little boy broke into a grin.

"You ate my candy, so now you have to be my bride."

Through the blur of my tears I couldn't even make out his face.

But even so, I was certain that the little prince from my storybooks looked exactly like the boy standing in front of me.

The bride thing was a joke. I was the only one who took it seriously.

From that day on, I became Phil's little shadow.

Elementary school, middle school, high school—we were never apart.

Until a year ago, when Phil showed up out of nowhere.

"Irene, let's be together."

Back then, I thought all those years of devotion had finally won him over. I threw myself into being his girlfriend, heart wide open.

Now I knew the truth: Phil Cox was with me for one reason. He needed a child.

To spare Claire the pain of carrying one, I became the perfect baby machine.

How absurd.

I sat on the living room sofa in silence, torturing myself with every sound that came from the bedroom.

I don't know how long it went on before the two of them finally walked out.

The instant Phil saw me, a flicker of panic crossed his face.

"Ir—Irene? When did you—how long have you been back? Why didn't you say something? I would've come and picked you up!"

I didn't answer. My gaze stayed fixed on Claire's face.

Phil rushed to explain.

"I drank too much last night, and you weren't home."

"She was just worried about me, okay? Didn't even come over till this morning—don't get the wrong idea."

After that, he watched me carefully, trying to read something in my expression.

When he found nothing unusual, he let out a breath.

"I was just about to come get you."

"The wedding's the day after tomorrow. Let's not fight anymore, okay?"

I nodded and said nothing more.

Phil was right about one thing. The wedding was the day after tomorrow.

To avoid unnecessary trouble, I had no intention of telling him the groom had been changed.

I couldn't be bothered to waste another second on either of them. I walked straight into the bedroom and started packing my things.

"I'm going to stay at my parents' place for the next couple of days. My mom says the bride and groom shouldn't see each other before the wedding."

Phil and Claire exchanged a glance, and the same spark of delight flashed through both their eyes.

I lowered my gaze, pretending not to notice how pleased they both looked.

I packed and mocked myself at the same time.

Either their acting was flawless or I was stupider than I'd ever imagined—I had never once seen what was right in front of me.

That night, back at home, I began sorting through the memories Phil and I had shared over the years.

I was deleting photos from my computer when I noticed it: Phil's WhatsApp account was still logged in on my machine.

Almost without thinking, I clicked in.

The moment I came online, messages were streaming through a small group chat, updating nonstop.

The latest one had been sent by Phil himself.

"Where are we meeting tonight? Last night wasn't enough—let's drink till we drop!"

Messages kept popping up one after another.

"No way am I drinking with you again. Did you see Irene's face yesterday? I thought she was going to eat us alive. My heart can't take it."

"For real though, Phil—Claire's so much better. That fiancée of yours doesn't even come close."

"I can't stand Irene. That whole pampered-princess act. It honestly makes me sick."

…

The messages kept coming, all variations of the same filth—that I couldn't compare to Claire, that I never could.

These friends of Phil's, every single one of them angling to ride his coattails into a connection with Gilbert Group.

To my face, it was always "sister-in-law" this, "sister-in-law" that. Behind my back, last night, this was who they really were.

Disgusting.

I was about to log out when Claire's account suddenly posted a message in the group.

A short video, maybe thirty seconds.

In it, she and Phil were locked in a deep kiss.

And the background was our bridal suite. Our enormous wedding portrait was hanging right behind them on the wall.

Claire's text followed the video almost instantly.

"Relax, boys—don't waste your breath on that bitch. If she ever found out her man and her precious wedding suite have both been mine more times than I can count, she'd lose her fucking mind."