My boyfriend of five—Evan Callister, suddenly proposed to me.

Everyone flooded me with congratulations.

I felt happy too, quickly started planning our wedding.

Then I overheard him talking with his gang friends.

Apparently, I wasn’t his only option. Just one of five women he’d been seriously considering for marriage. A lineup that included his childhood sweetheart, a few of his long-time bed warmers, and some well-connected heiresses whose families could do wonders for his.

“I didn’t imagine that you actually gonna marry Liora at the end, I thought Viola’s still the one you love.”

And then Evan, “Liora’s father died. If I marry her, I could have all of her money and the casino. She cannot do a thing about it. She only has me as her family now.”

“And what if Viola hears about your wedding and freaks?” his friend teased.

Evan chuckled. “I told her that I will make Liora conveniently die after the wedding. Then her and I can get marry instead.”

My heart iced over. But I didn’t cry or confront or even blink.

Instead, I made the call to the man my father had always wanted me to marry — the one of noble status, the one everyone admired, the one I’d avoided. And just said one thing, “My wedding is three days from now. Come and elope with me.”

Liora’s POV

When I came to fetch my fiancé—soon-to-be husband, Evan—for a simple lunch, I didn’t expect to hear my world shatter.

From around the corner, I caught his voice, laughing with his friends. Laughing about me. About us. Mocking our relationship like it was some inside joke. And then he said it—how he’d never loved me. How he’d only seen me as a name on his list of potential wives.

I froze.

What scared me most wasn’t just Evan’s betrayal—it was how twisted he truly was. How he could be two completely different men. With me, he was soft. Gentle. The kind of man who brushed my hair behind my ear and kissed my knuckles like I was precious.

But with his friends? He was smug. Cruel. Like I was just another name on his list.

What kind of man thinks a woman like me could just be picked? Like I was one of many, and he was doing me a favor?

When I met Evan, he was a newcomer to New York’s mafia circle. Fresh blood. His father had just brought him in, and their family was still scraping by, dealing in low-level arms and dirty drugs.

But he had that smile. That posture—confident, but not cocky. Steady in a way that drew my attention.

In my world, the weak bow to the strong. Evan didn’t bow. He didn’t grovel.

And when he was with me, he didn’t treat me like I was fragile or something to conquer.

I used to think that was strength. Now I see it was arrogance.

Only a man drunk on his own ego would believe he could keep a dozen women on a shortlist and just choose who to marry like we were NPCs in his game.

But we weren’t. I wasn’t.

I was real. With real feelings.

No matter how angry I felt, how humiliated… this was on me. I made the choice to stay. I gambled on him.

Even on his deathbed, my father had tried to warn me. Told me Evan wasn’t the one. Tried to arrange someone else, someone powerful. But I’d refused. I told him, “I don’t care about influence or power. Evan will become someone one day. Just like you.”

That was the biggest mistake I ever made.

And then there was my second mistake. When Evan said he could help with my father’s casino, I trusted him.

What I didn’t see coming? The plan underneath it all—marry me, then kill me. The casino would be his, no strings attached.

Evan must be thrilled. In just three days, our wedding will make everything his.

I’m the only Bennett heiress. The sole heir to my father’s empire. And he really thought I’d settle for being another name on his list? Just a pawn in his game?

Sadness didn’t even stand a chance. Fury burned it out fast.

A plan was forming—bold, reckless, the kind you don’t even dare say out loud.

I was going to leave Evan. But not just leave.

I wanted him humiliated. Broken the same way he broke me.

If I was just a name on his little “wifey” list… then how would he feel knowing he was never even on mine?

I could already picture it—his smug face twisting the second it hit him.

I pulled out my phone quickly, jaw tight, fingers steady. “It’s me, Liora,” I said as the line connected.

A low chuckle drifted through the receiver. “I’ve been expecting your call.”

Tristan. The man my father once wanted me to marry. The son of a powerful ally, raised in the same dark world I was.

We’d known each other since we were kids—but we were never friends.

If it were up to me, nemesis would’ve been a better word for Tristan.

Still, I always knew—out of all the men in New York’s mafia circles, he was the only one who could match me. Maybe even outmatch me.

So just this once, I chose to trust my father’s judgment. And put my faith in the man I used to call my enemy.

My heart kicked just a little faster. “My wedding is in three days.”

He sounded amused. “You want me to come watch you play house with that soft little coward Evan?”

I ignored the teasing in his voice. “No. I want you to come… and elope with me.”

There was a pause.

“Elope?” he repeated, voice low now, serious. “You sure you know what that means, Liora?”

“Yes.”

“If I show up at that altar and take you away, there will be no second chances. You will marry me according to Mr. Bennett’s last wishes. Can you do that?”

His words sent my heart in a spiral.

“I know what it means,” I said, voice firm. “And it’s what I want. Come get me. Just make sure you show up on time.”

Then I hung up.

The shift inside me was almost dizzying—how fast I moved from heartbreak to strategy. But that’s what it meant to be raised in a family like mine.

In our world, betrayal wasn’t a shock. It was routine.

I just never expected to get one from Evan, the man I’d once chosen over everyone else.

He thought he could humiliate me, play me, and walk away untouched?

He was wrong.

Let him think I’d still walk down that aisle. Let him think he’d won.

I’d see him at the altar—just before I let it all burn.

Liora’s POV

I was rounding the corner when I heard it—that sugary-sweet voice that instantly made my skin crawl.

“Liora!”

Viola.

Evan’s so-called ex. Or, according to his little speech earlier, the only woman he’s ever truly loved.

God, even her voice grated now. I could kick myself for ever trusting her.

I was the one who let her work at my family’s casino.

I believed her story when she said she had to take a break from her Italian husband. The way she’d been so sad.

I even comforted her. Held her hand. Told her she was strong.

What a damn joke.

I turned slowly.

Viola stood by the elevator in a clingy, too-perfect office outfit, waving like we were still friends.

Like she hadn’t just been the ghost in the room Evan couldn’t stop mourning.

“Evan didn’t mention you were stopping by today,” she said with a polite smile—one that didn’t reach her eyes.

I didn’t bother to smile back.

“Just came by for the monthly meeting. I’m still the name on the board. Remember?”

It came out sharper than I intended, and for a flicker of a second, I saw it—surprise. Real surprise, breaking through the gloss on her face.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said quickly, recovering. She reached for my hand like nothing had shifted. “Want to go to Evan’s office together?”

I casually pulled my hand back. “Actually, I’ve got a headache. I think I’ll head home.”

Her eyes flickered—just for a second. Something cold and calculating beneath all that sugar.

She reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a crisp white shirt and a neatly folded navy tie.

“Evan left these at my place a few days ago,” she said, holding out the bag. “I washed them. Figured you might want them back—since you’re heading home.”

I took them without flinching. Clutched the bag tight in my hand.

The message was clear. He’d spent the night. Probably more than once.

Now that I thought, Viola’s pattern was too familiar. Back in the days, she’d pulled the same move. And I’d fallen for it—doubted her, doubted myself.

She and Evan, gaslighting me, probably laughing behind closed doors while I spiraled.

Every time, Viola would act sweet, saying things like, “Liora. Don’t overthink—I am just taking care of him…”

The old me would’ve nodded, said alright, and gone running to Evan for answers.

Viola probably loved that part the most.

Today, I just took the bag and smiled. “Thanks for helping. I know you’ve done a lot for Evan. And as his future wife, I truly hope he keeps surrounding himself with friends like you.”

I let friends land exactly the way I meant it to.

The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off her reaction—but not before I caught it. The twist in her expression.

Rage.

I didn’t give Viola the show she wanted.

Be patient, Viola. The show you came for was coming—three days from now.

The wedding.

I knew the closer it got, the more unhinged Viola would become.

Who could blame her? Watching the man she loves marry someone else—even for money—was still a knife to the gut.

And Evan? He had no idea how dangerous a jealous woman could be.

Lucky for me, I just thought of the perfect way to use her jealousy against him.

…

I’d barely stepped outside Evan’s casino when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t need to check the screen. I already knew who it was.

Evan.

Poor Viola must have run straight to him—no doubt twisting the story until she came out the victim.

It seemed as if the word ‘Friend’ had truly twisted a knife into her heart.

I reached for the phone. Paused. Then slowly pulled my hand back.

I returned to the mansion with Evan and started packing.

This house… I’d bought it thinking it would be our wedding home. The place where we’d build a life. Raise a family. Grow old together.

But clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

So I might as well get out while the market was still high.

By the time I finished sorting my jewelry and had a team of workers helping me pack up my closet, the front door burst open.

Evan stormed in, his face dark with fury.

“Liora, what the hell?” he barked. “You made fun of Viola? I thought you two were friends!”

He came down the hall fast, and the second he saw the boxes, he faltered. His eyes landed on the half-packed room, the chaos of open drawers, scattered heels, garment bags.

He stiffened. “What… What are you doing?”

I didn’t even pause. Just folded another dress and slid it into the box.

“Just clearing out some old clothes,” I said lightly. “After the wedding, I planned to get new ones anyway.”

I didn’t want to alert Evan. Not yet. He still needed to believe I was in the dark, still wrapped up in his lies.

The crease between his brows softened. He reached for my hand. “Liora… did Viola do something to upset you? You’re not the kind of woman who just made fun of another woman.”

I looked up, meeting his gaze evenly. “What kind of woman do you think I am, Evan?”

He blinked. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he quickly smoothed it over. “You’re sweet,” he said. “Kind. Soft.”

I gave a soft laugh. “Then why’d you come running back the second you heard someone badmouth me? Didn’t even bother to hear my side first?”

Liora’s POV

If Viola wanted to play the victim, then she shouldn’t be surprised when I played the role too.

My words landed. Evan’s brow furrowed deeper. “That’s not what I meant.”

I took a step back, letting my voice crack just enough.

“Evan, she’s your childhood sweetheart. And me? What am I—your tenth girlfriend? I know my place.”

I watched his jaw tighten. That flicker of guilt? Gone. Replaced with irritation.

“You’re exaggerating, Liora,” he snapped, a little too fast. “Don’t make a scene.”

His patience was thinning. But I didn’t back down.

“Who’s your fiancée—me or her? Because from the way you’re defending that whore, it sure as hell doesn’t sound like me.”

Evan stepped in closer. His voice dropped, low and cold. “Have I been giving you too much freedom lately? Did you forget what I told you? As my wife, you’re not allowed to act like this. If you can’t handle it, I won’t marry you.”

Like a threat.

As if not marrying him would be the end of me.

How arrogant do you have to be, Evan?

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, “If I don’t marry you, who will?” he murmured. “After your father died, I’ve kept your family’s casino afloat. The only reason it hasn’t been bought out or crushed is because of me. You need to think clearly, Liora. I’m the only one left who’s on your side. Don’t make me angry, okay?”

I tilted my chin up, swallowing the urge to slap him. Or throw up. “Alright.”

His eyes softened like I’d passed some test. “That’s my good girl. Let’s focus on the wedding, hmm? I heard you still haven’t picked a dress. Take Viola with you—she’ll help you.”

“Sounds good.” I smiled, bright and blinding.

“And make her your bridesmaid. She’s upset about what you said earlier.”

The sickness I felt wasn’t even about Viola anymore. She might not have been the worst of it. Evan was. The way he acted like a king, like we were all interchangeable. Like women were just… disposable.

Seeing me not rejecting, Evan smiled, pulled out his credit card, hesitated for a beat, then handed it over.

Without another word, he walked off—probably thinking he’d charmed me again. That I was right back where he wanted me. Trusting him. Needing him.

Self-entitled asshole.

The moment he walked out that door, I moved everything I owned to a penthouse apartment I’d quietly purchased months ago. A place Evan had never heard me mention.

He wouldn’t be able to find me. Not unless I wanted to be found.

…

Viola called me early in the morning, her voice practically bouncing through the phone.

“I already booked the wedding salon,” she chirped. “Come on, Liora. I’m picking the dress!”

She sounded so giddy, like she was the bride—or at least the most enthusiastic bridesmaid in history.

When I stepped into the salon, the front was empty. No sign of Viola.

A woman in a sleek suit came over and gave me a bright smile. “Right this way, Mrs. Callister.” She gestured toward the dressing room.

I hadn’t even touched the curtain when I heard a woman gasp inside.

And then, I pulled it open.

Viola stood there, beaming at herself in the mirror, dressed in a white wedding gown. “Stop it…” she said with a laugh, preening like a model mid-photoshoot. Then her eyes found mine, and the smile faltered—just slightly.

“I’m not Mrs. Callister,” she corrected smoothly. “She is.”

The staff member turned a brilliant shade of red. “Oh—I’m sorry, I thought…”

“No worries,” I said, waving it off.

Viola gave a slow spin in front of the mirror, catching my gaze in the reflection. “Do I look stunning?”

She didn’t even try to hide the pride in her voice. It oozed out of her, every inch of her posture smug.

She knew Evan had chosen her. After that day, he must’ve done something—said something—that made it clear she’d won. That she mattered more than I did. And she was reveling in it.

I should’ve walked out now. But I didn’t. The perfect time to walk out was yet to come.

So I nodded once, calm as ever. “Very stunning. No wonder the staff thought you were the bride.”

“That’s right,” she said, twirling again. “I guess I do have that bride energy.”

She gestured toward a gown on the rack beside her. “Since you were late, I picked out your dress.”

I stepped closer. Blinked.

It was… awful.

I wasn’t expecting Viola to choose something beautiful for me, but this was a new level of sabotage. It was plain. Ugly. Unflattering in every possible way.

If I wore that down the aisle, no one would believe I was the bride. They’d assume she was.

Still, I kept my tone light. “And the one you’re wearing now—planning to make it the bridesmaid dress?”

Viola raised a brow. “What, worried I’ll outshine you?”

She was getting bolder. Crueler. As if the closer we got to the wedding, the more convinced she was that I was trapped in their little game. That I wouldn’t dare fight back. And if I did? Evan would just put me back in my place.

So why bother pretending anymore?

She wanted a reaction. I saw it in her eyes, the way she watched my face like it was a game.

Fine. I gave her one. I furrowed my brow. “Now that you mention it, the dress you picked for me does feel a little… underwhelming.”

Her smile twitched. Cracked.

Then came the venom. “Well, you’ll have to wear it anyway. Evan said I’d be helping you. And apparently, helping you means fixing your outdated fashion sense.”

She didn’t even bother hiding her impatience anymore. Viola walked over, tossed the dress straight into my arms—like she couldn’t wait to see it on me. “Go try it on.”

I headed to the dressing room. Less than a minute later, she followed me inside.

The moment she saw me in the dress, she nearly burst out laughing. “You do look stunning, Liora. That dress really suits you.”

Before I could say anything, Evan’s voice echoed from the front of the shop. “Where are they?”

“Mrs. Callister is in the fitting room,” someone replied.

Viola turned to me with a raised brow… and then promptly dropped to the ground. “Why did you push me?” she cried, loud enough to carry through the entire store.