I posted an invitation on my personal website for my fiancé Preston Lockwood’s private art exhibition, but I forgot to remove his ex-girlfriend, Savannah Vaughn, from the guest list.

The next day, after our wedding, Preston began his revenge. He turned our wedding night into a betting game for his friends.

Voices drew me toward the manor’s cigar room, where I found Preston, my phone in his hand. He was on a video call with his so-called “friends” in some private online club.

"First one to get a kiss gets a million dollars."

"Preston, even if Juliana is head over heels for you, this is messed up!"

"Too far? She's my wife. I own her. And I haven't even touched her! Raise the stakes!"

The men on the other end of the screen erupted in laughter.

"Seriously? Tossing your new bride to us on your wedding night? What if she turns on you?"

Preston sneered. "She was rubbing our engagement in Savannah's face. It's my own personal hell that I can't marry my soulmate. Besides…"

He held up a small vial of clear liquid and smirked. "This will make her wild. She won't even know who she's with."

The champagne glass slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor, my vision blurring with tears.

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1

Preston Lockwood’s friends were still fawning over his “creativity” on the video call from the cigar room.

A smug smile played on my husband Preston Lockwood's lips as he nodded. "Just a little fun."

"Aren't you worried Juliana will lose it when she finds out?"

Preston snorted. "Come on. I'll just say I was joking. What's she going to do, throw a fit?"

His friends applauded dramatically, lapping up his every word.

"Preston, you're so captivating. Why else would Juliana be so crazy about you? But what on earth did she do to make you angry enough to pull a stunt like this on your wedding night?"

Preston raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the flattery.

"She flaunted our engagement in Savannah’s face. Failing to protect Savannah is my life's biggest regret. If I don't teach Juliana a lesson, she'll never stop lording it over Savannah."

He continued scrolling through his phone, then broke into a grin. "Found it!"

He held up the screen. "Hot, right? These are some private sketches Juliana drew for me. Look at that body. Worth a bet, don't you think?"

They let out a chorus of vulgar whistles and whoops.

I wanted to rush in and shut him up, but my hands were trembling uncontrollably. My throat was raw, a tight, burning pain that wouldn't subside.

Preston and I had been engaged since we were children. Three years ago, when the Lockwood family's real estate company was facing an investment crisis, Preston suddenly re-entered my life.

I was drawn to his talent and looks, falling for him at first sight. I did everything I could to win him over, until he finally asked me to be his girlfriend.

When we were together, he'd meticulously mix my paints, stay with me in the studio late into the night, hold car doors open for me, and always have my favorite art supplies ready before I even had to ask.

His constant attentiveness made everyone around us green with envy.

Seeing me so happy, my parents doubled down on their support for the Lockwood family. They not only used their connections to help the Lockwood Group expand into overseas markets but also secured two major contracts for the company.

Before long, our marriage went from a distant possibility to a sure thing.

But just a month before the wedding, a woman named Savannah Vaughn showed up, claiming to be Preston's true soulmate.

And what did Preston do?

He knelt before me, his eyes filled with a panicked and fragile innocence. "Juliana, don't listen to Savannah's nonsense. It's your talent, your soul that I love. Just… please don't let her find out about us, okay? She'll make a huge scene."

I believed him. I told myself that Savannah loved Preston, but he had never loved her.

Then came the mistake that started it all. I posted the invitation to our private art exhibition online and forgot to block Savannah.

That night, Savannah posted a video of herself weeping in the gallery, her eyes red and glistening—the perfect picture of a heartbreak designed to stir sympathy in anyone who saw it.

Just before dawn, Preston's friends brought him home.

He was so drunk he could barely stand. I rushed over and asked what had happened.

One of them shot me a sideways glance and muttered, "He feels like he betrayed the one person who truly gets his art."

His friend’s words made no sense to me then. But now, it all clicked into place. Looking back, the signs had been there all along.

Savannah was the muse Preston kept hidden in his heart. I was just the convenient choice, the girl whose family could get his back on their feet.

I stumbled out of the cigar room in a daze, my eyes burning, my parents' warnings echoing in my mind.

My heart ached for them. I had chosen a man who didn't love me, and with my own two hands, I had destroyed my own happiness.

Because Preston didn't love me, my dignity and my feelings meant nothing to him. He'd turned me into a laughingstock, transforming the night I'd been dreaming of into the cruelest of jokes.

I trudged back alone to our bridal suite, deep within the manor. I had designed and decorated everything here myself, from my favorite scented candles to the freshly picked flowers and the silk nightgown laid out on the bed.

I buried my face in my hands and cried for a long time, until the swipe of a key card cut through the silence.

"Preston, Juliana's in here!"

A group of men flooded in. My phone slipped from my trembling hands and clattered to the floor as I instinctively wrapped my arms around my chest.

"Don't be shy, Juliana."

One of the men swaggered over, reeking of alcohol.

Later, I would learn his name was Troy Bishop.

He spotted the silk nightgown on the bed, hooked it with a finger, and a lecherous grin spread across his face. "Preston said your wedding night needed a few judges…"

"Get out! There are cameras everywhere in here!" I forced my voice to sound calm.

Troy only grew more excited. He plopped down on the mattress beside me, his eyes raking over my body.

"Playing innocent? Preston's off with another woman as we speak."

"Give me a break," someone else snorted. "You weren't so shy in those sketches. Don't act all innocent now."

"A saint?" another jeered. "Preston bet away her first night. She can't be that much of a saint if he was willing to do that."

"It's not like that!" I cried, hot tears spilling from my eyes.

My best friend, Maya Reed, had helped me put that collection of intimate sketches together. I had only ever shown them to Preston.

Troy's smile turned cold as he reached for me.

Just then, a laugh echoed from the doorway. "Well, well, well. Couldn't miss the main event, could I?"

It was Savannah's voice.

She strode in, glanced at the circle of men around me, and arched an eyebrow.

I couldn't tear my eyes from the dark, tell-tale mark on her collarbone. Our gazes met, and the triumphant glint in her eyes sent a chill through me. That couldn't be what I thought it was...

"Sorry I'm late, Juliana," she purred. "My man wouldn't let me leave."

She swept her hair over her shoulder, and my blood ran cold.

The one-of-a-kind platinum cufflinks I had designed for Preston were clasped around her wrist.

Savannah produced two glasses of whiskey and offered one to me. "I missed the wedding. Let this be my apology."

The men hooted. "Is Preston's stamina that bad? Savannah can still run over here to mess with Juliana."

"What do you know," another said. "The Lockwood Group is about to go public. What use will the Hayes family be then? Of course Preston's going to kick them to the curb!"

I backed away step by step until my back hit the headboard. I remembered the vial of liquid Preston had been holding. Had Savannah put something in this glass?

"Take it away! I'm not drinking it!" I shouted.

They laughed even harder.

"Are you refusing me, Juliana?" Savannah grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer, and leaned in to my ear.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Preston and I already had our celebration. As for you… you're not afraid I drugged this, are you? Silly girl. You've already been drugged. It was in that glass of rare whiskey you had at the reception."

My mind went blank. The scene from the reception flashed before my eyes.

"To your art, Juliana, cheers," Preston had said.

Preston handed me a glass of amber liquid, his gaze so tender it made me melt. I forced down a blush and drained the glass.

So he had drugged me then?

"Juliana?" Preston's voice came from the doorway as he walked in with a warm smile.

His shirt was uncharacteristically buttoned to the top, but a faint lipstick smudge on his collar confirmed everything.

I bit my lip, digging my nails deep into my palms, the sharp sting keeping me lucid.

Preston sat beside me and pulled my arms down.

"What are you doing? They're all my friends. Don't you trust us?"

Suddenly, the room started to spin, and a wave of heat surged from deep within my body.

"Whoa! Preston, looks like the drug is kicking in."

"Preston, is this really okay?" Troy asked hesitantly.

Preston laughed dismissively. "Don't worry. The Hayes family's trust fund has some problems, they won't be back on their feet anytime soon. Do whatever you want. I'll take the heat."

With the last of my strength, I grabbed his sleeve, my vision blurring with tears. "Preston, tell me… why?"

I wanted to ask, "Why would you do this to me? I gave you my whole heart. Why?"

His eyes turned bloodshot. He seized my chin and said coldly, "Juliana, your family's so-called 'class' is just an act. This is only the beginning. There's plenty more where this came from!"

He flung my hand away, and I collapsed onto the mattress. Without a backward glance, he wrapped his arm around Savannah and walked out. At the door, Savannah turned, a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

The moment he was gone, the group of men surged forward, their hands grabbing at my dress.

"Help… help…" I tried to cover myself, but my limbs felt like lead, my muscles useless under the drug's influence.

Within seconds, cold air hit my skin as the men's gazes burned over me.

They closed in around the bed. I struggled to crawl away, but a hand clamped around my ankle and dragged me down. More hands reached for me.

I bit my tongue until my mouth filled with the taste of blood, the sharp pain giving me a sliver of strength back.

I remembered the heavy, antique brass letter opener on the nightstand. Tonight, it might be my only salvation.

Gritting my teeth, I inched toward the headboard as their hands dragged across my skin, whistles and crude comments buzzing in my ears.

"God, this is so exciting…"

"She's probably still a virgin. Skin like silk. Can't believe Preston never touched her."

"Who cares? Her first time is ours!"

"Come on! Let's all go at once!"

A hand fumbled between my legs. The drug made my breath come in ragged gasps.

A sickening wave of drug-induced pleasure and nausea washed over me, my vision swimming with stars.

I bit down harder on my tongue until a trickle of blood escaped the corner of my mouth.

The man closest to me grabbed my chin and slapped me. "Stop fighting!"

My fingers finally brushed against the cold metal on the nightstand.

"Stay back!" I screamed, swinging the letter opener in a wild arc through the air.

"Ooh, she's got a toy! What's this, Juliana? You like it rough? We can play that game."

No one took the letter opener seriously. A few of them even laughed.

I retreated to the corner, hugging my body tightly, the feeling of their hands on my skin replaying in my mind.

Then, I raised the letter opener, turned the point toward myself, and plunged it into my own thigh.

The rowdy men fell silent. Before they could react, I stabbed myself again. Agonizing pain ripped through me, tearing through the drug's haze and burning it away.

"You want me dead? Fine, I'll grant your wish!"

Blood stained the white carpet. My strength was draining away, my vision darkened, and then everything went black.