Following a trend we'd seen in online videos, my husband and I had each prepared a surprise for the other on our wedding day.

All it took was one envious remark from Marianne Pruitt, and Jonathan Dickerson pressed the bag straight into her hands.

"Cassie, once the ceremony's over, I'll take you to the mall and buy you something even more expensive."

"You know how much Marianne means to me. My fault for being careless and not preparing two gifts ahead of time."

I drew a slow breath, and my face went cold.

"Are you marrying her, or marrying me?"

Jonathan knit his brows, his tone turning impatient.

"All our relatives and friends are watching. You just have to make me look bad, don't you?"

"Marianne's no different from my own sister. You're going to be her sister-in-law—can't you let her have this one?"

Well, well. Somehow I was the unreasonable one now.

My parents' faces were tight with embarrassment, and beside me my best friend spoke up on my behalf.

I sent a message straight to the wedding planner.

Cancel the wedding. Keep the program running as scheduled. Swap the slideshow photos for the ones I'm sending you now.

1.

The room had been loud and cheerful, and Jonathan's little stunt dropped it into silence.

After a long moment, my mother forced her emotions down and offered a gentle reminder.

"Today is your wedding day with Cassie. I know you and Marianne grew up leaning on each other and you're close, but today the bride should come first."

Jonathan didn't hear a word of it. Instead he stared at me with that smug, sneering certainty on his face.

"Cassie, you've got such a kind heart. You won't hold this against me, right?"

"If you had a gift and Marianne didn't, she'd be so hurt."

Hmph. Jonathan and I had been together four years, and because he'd grown up in an orphanage, his bond with Marianne was practically family.

So I'd swallowed it, again and again. Every anniversary, every major holiday, whatever gift I got, Marianne had to get one too.

Even when it stung to the point I could hardly stand it, I never let it show, never put Jonathan in a hard spot.

But today, faced with a one-of-a-kind gift, he chose to put Marianne first.

A layer of frost settled over my heart, and before I could react, Marianne put on her act and reddened her eyes.

"If it makes you unhappy, Cassie, I won't take it…"

Her voice caught, as if she were the one suffering some terrible wrong. Seeing it, Jonathan lost every scrap of patience, his face stiffening as he warned me.

"You'd better not throw one of your spoiled-princess fits today. Look at you, you've nearly made Marianne cry."

"If you still want to go through with this wedding, then move on to the next part."

My parents had been respectable people their whole lives, and in that moment Jonathan's behavior left them breathing hard with fury.

"Sweetheart, if this is how it is, then maybe we should just…"

Before my father could finish, I managed to squeeze out a smile.

"Come on. Let's get in the wedding car."

Seeing me rise to my feet, my father said nothing more.

The wedding party came down in a noisy stream.

A flashy convertible was parked out front of the building.

I was just about to get in when Marianne cut in front of me and blocked the way.

She batted her eyes at Jonathan.

"Jonathan, can I sit up front?"

"I've never ridden in a convertible before."

Jonathan glanced at me, then down at the train of my gown pooling on the ground.

The back seat of that car was absurdly cramped. In this dress I wouldn't even be able to stretch out my legs.

Still, he didn't turn down Marianne's ridiculous request.

"Cassie, you take the back."

"Marianne and I both grew up in the orphanage. She had it so hard for the last twenty years. Just put up with it today and let her enjoy this."

He wasn't asking me.

He'd already pulled open the passenger door as he spoke, waving Marianne inside.

"Cassie, it's just for a little stretch of road. It is your wedding, after all. I'll give the front seat back to you."

She played the delicate, put-upon innocent, and even with fury churning up through my chest, I still didn't let it show.

They both knew the ride was being filmed.

Both knew how absurd this would look to anyone on the street who caught sight of it.

But the two of them were lost in each other, moved by their own little moment, and no one paid the slightest attention to how I felt.

Karen couldn't stand it. She rushed to my side and dropped her voice.

"Cassie, are you seriously going to sit in the back?"

"Your train is huge, it's dangerous back there."

"Jonathan, that lowlife—"

I knew Karen was angry on my behalf. Over the past few years she'd hinted more than once, gently, that he and I didn't belong to the same world.

2.

Of course I knew. One of us grew up in an orphanage with nothing to his name, and the other was a cherished heiress raised in comfort.

But love never cared about matching stations, and I'd set my heart on marrying him.

My judgment had gone soft, and that was what had brought me to this.

"Let's just take the car behind them together."

Up front, Jonathan had his head turned toward Marianne, laughing at something with her.

Their faces were nearly pressed together.

Karen bit down hard on her lip, seething, and stamped her foot.

"Fine. Today's your day. Whatever you say."

The wedding car pulled away toward the hotel.

Along the way, passersby kept turning to look.

"Wait, the bride's not in the lead car? Who's the woman up front?"

"Get a picture, post it. I've never seen a setup like this."

"Look how cozy those two in the sports car are. Looks like she matters way more to the groom than the bride does."

Every stranger there was guessing at who Marianne was.

They watched her stand up, flamboyant, and throw her arms wide, not just claiming the seat that belonged to me but blocking the camera's view, erasing me from the shot completely.

Watching all this, my best friend beside me couldn't hold her anger back anymore.

She grabbed my shoulder and shook it, furious that I wouldn't fight for myself.

"Cassandra Mercer, you can actually put up with this?"

"When in your whole life have you ever been treated like this?"

I calmly kept working my phone.

Karen was so worked up she looked ready to jump out of the car.

"Are you even listening to me? If you really marry Jonathan Dickerson, your whole life is ruined!"

I finished with my phone, finally lifted my head to look at her, and let a bright smile curve across my lips.

"Take these files. When we get to the hotel, hand them to the planner and tell them to change what gets played inside."

Karen froze for a second. Then her tight shoulders eased, and she squinted at me with a wicked little grin.

Twenty-some years of friendship, and she knew exactly what I meant.

The motorcade came to a stop at the hotel entrance.

Jonathan still hadn't remembered I existed. He circled around to the passenger side with all his attention and opened the door for Marianne.

As she stepped out, Marianne stumbled, and Jonathan rushed to catch her by the waist. The two of them exchanged a smile, an intimate, glaring little moment.

Karen forced the words out through clenched teeth.

"Cassie, from here on, you just watch me."

"That scummy man won't be smiling much longer."

Not letting anything show on my face, I gathered up my gown and walked into the hotel, then went to the suite to touch up my makeup as the schedule called for.

But Marianne, clinging on like a ghost, barged straight in.

"Are you a fly? You have to follow us everywhere?"

Karen's eyes went wide and her voice jumped, but Marianne didn't care in the slightest. She leaned in close to me and said, her tone laced with a challenge:

"Cassie, you know how it is. Jonathan and I grew up together from little kids. Childhood sweethearts."

"I know his tastes better than anyone. I only came to see if your makeup needs any adjusting."

I gave her a cool glance and said nothing.

The next thing I knew, Marianne pulled a lipstick straight out of her pocket and swiped it across my lips before I could react.

The dark red instantly turned my festive bridal look dim, cold, and harsh.

When she was done, she struggled to hold back a laugh.

"There, much better. Jonathan's sure to love it."

She'd done it on purpose, plain and simple.

Karen couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed Marianne's arm and shoved her hard to the side.

"So you've got it out for our Cassie, is that it?"

Aching for me, Karen pulled out a tissue to wipe my lips, but I waved her off.

"Don't. Honestly, I think it looks good like this."

Dark red. The exact opposite of a wedding's festive style.

But thinking about the heroine's revenge show that was about to begin, I found this look fit perfectly with what I was about to do.

Marianne saw all this and took it for my meek compromise.

She straightened her back, her face full of pride.