Once the venue was locked in, Mom jumped straight to the dress.

Quentin had already picked out the rings overseas—custom, designer, super exclusive.

He was still overseas for work, so he sent me an unlimited card to make up for it.

I booked this year's latest gown. It landed this morning, and the boutique called right away for my fitting.

But the second I walked in, I spotted Shane in the waiting area.

He looked up, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying on a dress," I said.

Maybe I was too calm—he looked thrown. Then came the sneer. "No one else left, huh? So you're crawling back to me?"

I stared at him, and something bitter clawed up my throat.

Hard to believe this was the same guy who once carried me through a downpour when I couldn't stand. That version of Shane vanished the second Ceryn showed up.

At least now, I didn't have to be caught in his mess.

"I told you," I said, steady. "I'm not marrying you. You're right—there are other guys. I'm done chasing you."

I turned and headed into the bridal display.

But then he yanked my wrist. "Mirelle Montclair! What the hell are you doing?"

I tried to pull away. He wouldn't let go.

I sighed. "What do you want from me? I've already said it—I'm not marrying you. I'm done. Isn't that what you wanted?"

His face darkened. Then came that cold laugh. "And you just happened to show up today to try on dresses? You expect me to believe this isn't about marrying me?"

He glanced at the fitting rooms, eyes softening. "Ceryn's the love of my life. You need to let this go. I told my family last night—I'm ending our engagement. Even if they hate it, I'm marrying her. I'll give up everything if I have to."

And he meant it. Everything his family ever handed him.

Sure, he had his own company. It was doing okay. But it was nothing compared to the Fuchner empire.

I gave him a polite smile. "Then I wish you and Ceryn the best. Don't stress—I'm marrying someone else. Our engagement? Doesn't mean a thing anymore."

I motioned for him to let go.

He didn't. Just stared, grip tightening. "What game are you playing? Who else would even want you?"

It hurt. Bad enough to bring tears to my eyes.

That's when Ceryn stepped out and blinked in fake surprise. "What are you two doing?"

Shane dropped my wrist and rushed to Ceryn, reaching for her hand.

She flinched back. He caught on fast. "I'll go wash up. Wait for me."

Ceryn and I locked eyes. Her smirk said it all.

That's when I saw it—she was wearing the exact dress I'd reserved.

A flustered store clerk trailed after her. "Ms. Schuck, that gown was already reserved! We just got a bunch of new styles in—please take a look."

Ceryn shot the clerk a glare. "My fiancé's the heir of the Fuchner family. He's tight with your boss. He said I can try anything—he'll pay for it all. And it's just a reservation, not a purchase. So why not?"

Then she turned to me, smirking. "Right, Mirelle? If engagements can be broken, a dress reservation's nothing."

The clerk finally noticed me and looked like she might cry. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Montclair. The gown just came in this morning. I didn't get a chance to pull it before Ms. Schuck tried it on."

I didn't blame her. And honestly? I didn't want a dress someone else had already touched.

I gave the clerk a calm smile. "It's fine. If Ms. Schuck wants it, she can keep it. Didn't you say a new signature gown came in today? Show me that one."

I tapped my bag—Quentin's unlimited card tucked safely inside. If my fiancé wanted me to splurge, who was I to argue?

Shane walked out just in time to hear it.

His voice dripped ice. "Mirelle, stop humiliating yourself. I told you—I'm marrying Ceryn. Not you. Why keep acting like this? Do you even know what that gown costs? A million. You can't afford that."

I smiled, pulled out the unlimited card, and handed it over. "No need to try it on. I'll take it."

Shane froze. Ceryn stared like she might combust.

I turned and walked away.

That night, I hopped on a video call with Quentin. First time seeing him since my second shot at life, and yeah—I was a little jittery.

We'd already planned to hit the County Clerk's Office the morning he got back. Even though we were about to tie the knot, things between us still felt kinda new. A little awkward, even.

Then Shane called. "Mirelle, where'd you get the cash for that fancy dress? Don't tell me you're doing shady stuff behind my back. And you wore that gown just to piss off Ceryn, didn't you?

"I told you to stay away from my fiancée! You're planning some fake wedding just to trap me, right?

"Newsflash—I'm never marrying you, no matter what stunt you pull!

I'd been floating after my chat with Quentin.

Shane killed the vibe. I snapped. "Shane Fuchner, this is the last time I'm saying it—I'm not marrying you!"

Didn't matter. No matter how many times I said it, he just wouldn't get it.

Later that night, Shane posted some cringe status:

[Getting our license on the 18th with my first love. Come witness our happiness!]

Good for them. Really. Cute.

Too bad I was getting mine with Quentin—same day.

Shane had been off playing fiancé with Ceryn, snapping engagement pics and leaving me alone for once.

On the big day, I stood outside the County Clerk's Office in a wedding dress worth more than his ego, waiting on Quentin.

Just picturing his face when he saw me had me grinning like an idiot.

I'd timed it so Shane and Ceryn were already inside before I got out of the car. Last thing I wanted was drama on a day like this.

Still didn't work.

"Mirelle?"

Some random guy behind me called out, loud enough to turn heads—including Shane's crew in line.

"Oh wow, today's Shane and Ceryn's big moment and look who shows up in full bridal gear. Talk about obsessed—chasing your ex in a wedding dress? Yikes."

Shane clocked the noise and walked over. The second he saw me, his face twisted.

"Mirelle, what the hell are you doing? Dressed like that? Seriously? You really think pulling something like this is gonna change my mind? Forget it. I'm never marrying you. Ceryn's the only one I want."

He yanked Ceryn to his side, smirking like he'd just won something.

I let out a dry laugh—too stunned to even get mad. "I told you—I'm not marrying you. This dress? Not for you. My fiancé's showing up any minute, so back off."

Cue the peanut gallery. His friends cracked up, calling me desperate, pathetic, Shane's little lapdog begging for scraps.

"Mirelle, this whole playing-hard-to-get thing? Tired. Shane's getting his license with Ceryn—time to let it go."

"If you're that thirsty to get married, just take one of us. Honestly, I'd love to see Shane's loyal mutt crawling after me."

Shane chuckled, all smug. "She's that dull and still got fans? Go ahead—whoever wants her, take her. I wouldn't even keep her if she came gift-wrapped."

That did it. I raised my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist mid-air.

I glared at him. "Shane, are you deaf? I said I'm not marrying you. Never was."

Instead of getting pissed, he just laughed. "Yeah, right. You've been dying to marry me since you were five. You loved me so much you forced the engagement. And now you expect us to buy that you're marrying someone else?

"Sure. So where is he, huh? You've been out here long enough. Where's your mystery man?"

My face burned as I yanked my wrist free, his words slicing through me.

Then a deep voice behind me cut in.

"Shane, let her go."