Natalie must’ve whacked Zach over the head with the amnesia stick, because he spent the next couple days pretending the moment we shared in my room—where we clutched onto each other for dear life—never happened.
She caught on to my mood, too, winking at me every time our paths crossed.
As for Zach, I couldn’t be mad. Not like he gave me the asshole treatment he served to everyone else—with second and third helpings.
Unlike with Natalie and his staff, he still paused to talk to me every time we met in the halls.
He showed up when Dan, Bryan, Deanne, and Tom arrived with legal briefs—skimming the documents, guiding me, asking the tough questions I didn’t necessarily know how to ask.
And he quietly hired cleaners to pick up the work I stopped doing as I focused my energy on the case, digging through all the paperwork.
In lieu of winning a gold medal, I decided to laser-focus on winning my case.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized I never wanted to return to the competitive stage.
I loved the sport, yes.
But I’d known from the moment I committed the crime that I deserved to be punished and only managed to skirt it through Andras’ deep-rooted connections to the fencing world.
I needed to face the music.
Vera didn’t rob me of my last chance at the Olympics. I’d done that to myself.
But that didn’t mean I’d let her take everything Dad had left behind.
After annotating a legal brief, I roamed Zach’s house, looking for something to do.
The place shined thanks to my joint efforts with the new cleaning service and Dallas had an OB/GYN appointment, so I couldn’t pass time binge-shopping for the baby online and watching in horror as she DoorDash’d from seven different restaurants to satisfy her cravings.
I sauntered down the hall, passing by open doors, when I heard my name being called from the sunroom. “Miss Ballantine?”
Constance Sun.
I stopped dead in my tracks, my shoulders squaring into a stiff knot.
Don’t let her push you around. You have every right to be here. Life makes you strong so you can protect yourself.
I rerouted with a sigh, stopping at the sight before me.
Constance and Eileen sat at a grand driftwood table, brochures fanned all over. Sun spilled behind their shoulders, making them look like two fallen angels.
Zach had left hours ago. They must’ve shown themselves in.
Still, the idea of Eileen in his proximity—in his house—made my skin crawl. So much for safeguarding my heart.
I plastered on a carefree smile. “Yes?”
Constance poured herself another cup of tea. “Could you be an absolute doll and help us out?”
“Sure.” My teeth slammed together, but I kept my smile intact. “How can I be of service?”
“My vision isn’t what it used to be. Could you help me organize these wedding venues in alphabetical order?”
My eyes darted to the reading glasses on her nose. A frown creased my brows.
Her intentions were obvious. She wanted me to see what the future had in store for her son, Eileen, and most importantly—not me.
If I let her get to me, her claws would sink straight into my bones.
As subtle as I could, I coiled every muscle in my body, aware they both watched me like hyenas.
Eileen sucked in a quick breath. “Constance…”
She, too, couldn’t believe the pettiness.
But I could.
I jeopardized the most important thing in the world to Constance—her son’s future. Nothing mattered more to her than keeping Zach safe under her watchful eye.
She refused to introduce dangerous, unknown elements into his life, lest he end up like his father. I understood it, but I didn’t have to like it.
“Oh, not you, too, Eileen.” Constance emphasized the word too. “These people are here to help.”
“These people?” Eileen nearly shrank into her seat to the point of disappearance.
Constance snapped her fingers at me. “Dear, do hurry, please. We have a cake tasting in an hour.”
Screw this.
I refused to let her see me break.
I flashed her my brightest, happiest smile. “Coming right up.”
As I gathered the brochures, I decided not to tell Zach about this. What was the point? She would stay after I left.
As much as I hated Constance, I couldn’t deny the fact that she adored her son in her own warped way.
She dropped off batches of his favorite cucumber salad every three days, celebrated his every professional win, and (according to Dallas) even pulled strings to have the strip of road her husband had died on redone, so Zach wouldn’t recognize it.
I didn’t question her devotion to him.
Eileen shot me an embarrassed smile without meeting my eyes, helping me sort through a stack of brochures. A reluctant pang of respect dragged through me.
The Maldives.
The Amalfi Coast.
Southamptons.
The destinations didn’t matter. Neither did the wedding itself.
The simple reminder that Zachary Sun would no longer need a reason for me was enough to send a wave of despair spiraling through me.
“Oh, Eileen.” Constance frowned at the silent—and shocking—act of resistance but accepted a stack of pamphlets from her future daughter-in-law. “There’s such a thing as a heart too pure. Unsavory people will take advantage of it.”
I caught her underlying meaning.
She must’ve seen me in the worst way possible.
Could I blame her? I’d barged into her son’s life, broken into his home, tried to steal from him, and traded orgasms with him in exchange for legal help and a boatload of money.
Hardly a beacon of altruism.
All the while, I vowed to follow through on my lifelong promise to never engage in a relationship. To never become Dad and Vera.
Constance held the booklet to the light. “Isn’t this venue lovely?”
It took me a moment to realize she’d spoken to me. I couldn’t help it. Even though I knew it would hurt, I glanced at the photo.
The Botanica.
A lush haven of soaring trees, hundreds of thousands of rare flowers, and hand-carved outdoor furnishings. It hit like a bullet to the gut.
What is wrong with you, Fae? Weddings make you cringe. You’ve always called them a waste of a down payment.
“Stunning,” I agreed, meaning it. With the fake smile still plastered on my face, I deposited the remaining brochures onto the table and offered a little bow, bending my knees with flourish. “How else may I be of service to you, Mrs. Sun?”
It worked.
Constance looked completely devastated by my good mood. “Actually… Eileen, darling, why don’t you show Miss Ballantine the wedding gowns that are our frontrunners? I’m sure she’ll have some interesting input.”
Eileen’s eyes widened. She looked horrified by the idea.
I couldn’t blame her.
I no longer bothered wearing my maid uniform, so my fashion style—or lack thereof—was evident to the naked eye. I wore black leggings paired with a fuzzy green and yellow sweater.
“I’m sure Miss Ballantine has things to do with her time…” Eileen trailed off.
Time wasn’t my problem. The thought that I wanted to curl into a ball and cry until I died of dehydration was.
Because choosing a wedding dress for Zach’s bride was the height of angst for me. I had a literal physical reaction to it. Like scorpions were crawling all over my skin.
But again, I couldn’t let Constance win. “I’d love to take a look.”
With a sigh, Eileen clasped a stack of glossy brochures tabbed with Post-it notes, sifting through three of them until she flipped to the right pages.
She fanned the options before me. Classic A-line dresses with extensive tulle and enough lace to open a French bordel.
Zach would absolutely hate them.
He enjoyed contemporary, artsy things. Grecian silk. Pleated cuts. Maybe something diamond-embellished.
It frightened me that I knew his likes and dislikes so well.
I swallowed down a desperate scream, shrugging as I tapped one of the pictures. They all looked the same to me, anyway. “This one is gorgeous.”
Eileen brightened. “This one is my favorite.”
For a moment, I pitied her.
For suffering the same phobia as Zach. For entering a loveless marriage. For having no one to help navigate her fears.
At least Zach would leave our arrangement cured.
I swore to it.
Constance searched my face for any trace of emotion—sadness, disappointment, jealousy—but found none.
Little did she know, she’d stumbled upon a veteran when it came to emotional abuse, courtesy of Vera’s twenty-three-year bootcamp.
“Very well, Miss Ballantine.” She nodded to the door. “Please, leave.”
“If you need anything else…” I jerked a thumb toward the hallway. “I’ll be in the living room, watching a movie.”
I deliberately antagonized Constance, resenting her for controlling Zach, knowing she didn’t have the balls to cry to him.
She glowered. “Hadn’t realized this was your day off.”
“It isn’t.” I drew a hand to my chest. “My, my. How unsavory of me.”
Humming, I strolled out, taking measured steps to my room, not letting the first tear fall until I was absolutely positive it couldn’t be heard.
