The rehearsal dinner at the Four Seasons was exactly as Liam wanted it: opulent, highly publicized, and filled with tech investors who loved a good love story.
He stood at the head of the long banquet table, holding up a flute of vintage Dom Pérignon. The chandeliers caught the gleam of his perfect smile.
"To Chloe," he announced, his voice carrying over the gentle clinking of silverware. "My rock. My brilliant co-founder. And the woman who has had my heart since we were eighteen years old. Tomorrow, I finally get to make you my wife. You deserve the perfect wedding, and I promise to spend the rest of my life giving you the world."
The room erupted into applause. Some of the investors' wives were wiping away tears. In the back corner of the room, near the bar, I saw Mia. She was dressed
