Chapter 1
The second I got the refund text for the wedding crown and lace bridal gown, Silas Brooks called me.
His voice crackled through the line, sharp with irritation.
He asked, "The designer said you returned the crown and gown?
"There is a limit to how much of a tantrum you can throw.
"Clara was nice enough to give up her hotel booking for us. Do not be so ungrateful."
I stood in the cold wind of late autumn, staring at the thin refund receipt in my hand.
My voice stayed steady. I replied, "She does not need to give it up anymore."
Silas snorted and said, "What the hell are you playing at now?
"I just transferred five million into your account as allowance this morning. Is that not enough for a handbag?
"I have already given you the position of Mrs. Brooks. Why are you still nitpicking over stupid little details?
"You are being way too greedy, Iris Taylor."
I folded the receipt neatly and tucked it into the pocket of my coat.
My tone did not shift. I told him, "Since you think I am greedy, I do not want to be Mrs. Books anymore."
Dead silence hung over the line for a split second.
Then Silas laughed. He said, "Well, look at you. Gotten all tough on me, huh?
"If you are so tough, do not set foot back in Briarwood Estates today. Let us see how long you can keep this stubborn act up out there."
The line went dead with a click.
I stared at the blacked-out screen, but this time, I did not frantically dial him back to explain like I always did.
Three years of marriage, and this was how he always acted.
He was dead certain I would never leave him. Dead certain that if he so much as gave me the cold shoulder, I would come crawling back begging for his favor.
I flagged down a passing taxi and gave the driver the Briarwood Estates address.
Of course, I was going back. All my ID papers and the things my grandmother left me were still there.
When I pushed open the front door of the villa, warm golden light spilled out from the living room.
Silas sat on the sofa.
A coffee cup rested in his hand, and he did not even bother to glance up at me.
He said, without looking up, "So you decided to come back after all?"
Then he added, "I thought you would freeze out there all night just to make me feel bad for you."
I slipped off my shoes, did not respond to him, and headed straight for the stairs.
His voice dropped to a low, sharp growl as he commanded, "Stop right there."
I froze mid-step and turned to face him.
He slammed his coffee cup down hard on the coffee table with a loud clunk.
He demanded, "Iris, what the hell are you throwing a fit about today?"
"I just went to Ellenton for a work trip, and I helped Clara check out a diamond ring while I was at it. That is all.
"Her hand size is almost the same as yours. What is wrong with letting her try it on for you?"
I stared at him, looking so self-righteous, and a sharp, bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat out of nowhere.
I shot back, "While you were at it?
"Every single year on our wedding anniversary, you just happen to have a work trip to Ellenton. What a coincidence.
"Those photos of you two feeding pigeons in Trafalgar Square that were all over social media—were those just a coincidence too?"
Silas's brows snapped together, and a flash of irritation darkened his eyes.
He snapped, "That is just the media making up rumors out of thin air.
"Clara is all alone in a foreign country, and it is hard for her. I am like a big brother to her, so why would I not look out for her? Can you not even be that generous?"
"Big brother". What a convenient, perfect excuse.
I stared straight into his eyes, my voice perfectly steady. I said, "I am not angry.
"I just realized that lace wedding dress is not right for me."
"Cathedral-style ceremony, seaside venue—those are all Clara's preferences, not mine.
"Silas, answer me honestly. Who exactly are you marrying here? Me or her?"
His face darkened instantly.
He growled, "Iris, do you really have to twist things and make them sound this ugly?
"I told you, a wedding only happens once in a lifetime. Isn't it great to have an elaborate one?
"A black wedding dress, that generic, off-the-rack style—it is not fit for such an occasion."
I did not argue back.
Before, I would have fought tooth and nail to explain how beautiful that dress was, how special the one my grandmother designed was.
But now, I did not even have the desire to speak up.
I just nodded. I said, "Fine.
"Whatever you say."
I turned on my heel and kept walking up the stairs.
Silas clearly never expected me to back down so easily. He froze for a beat, and then he snapped, "What the hell do you think you are doing?"
I did not even turn my head as I answered, "Packing my things."
A cold, mocking laugh drifted up from behind me. He called out, "Packing your things? Come on, Iris, do you really think I am going to run after you and beg you to stay just because you pull this little runaway act?
"That crappy little bridal shop of yours would have gone under years ago if I was not pouring money into it every single month.
"You cannot even put food on the table without me."
I pushed open the bedroom door and did not bother answering him.
I dragged a black suitcase out and spread it flat on the floor.
When I pulled open the closet door, I found it crammed full of high-end designer couture Silas had bought me from all the top brands. Every single one of them was bright, blazing red—the same shade Clara adored.
I did not take any of them. I only grabbed a few worn old sweaters I had bought years before.
I pulled open a drawer, fished out my passport, and tucked it close to my body.
Finally, I walked over to the nightstand.
A thin folder sat there, holding the wedding dress design my grandmother had drafted by hand for me just before she passed away.
It was the only thing in this whole house that actually felt like mine to keep.
I reached out to grab the folder.
A hand suddenly clamped down hard around my wrist.
