~SCARLETT.
Sunday evening, I stood in front of the floor-length mirror in the walk-in closet, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me.
The emerald-green gown hugged my figure like it had been made just for me, shimmering under the soft lights. Silver heels peeked out from beneath the fabric, completing the look. My makeup—done by a professional Liam had insisted on hiring—was flawless: smoky eyes, soft nude lips. But what truly transformed me was my hair. The braided updo framed my face with an elegance I never imagined carrying.
Swallowing hard, I smoothed my hands down the dress. It didn't feel real. Any of it.
Liam had orchestrated everything. 'You deserve to be taken care of,' he'd said when I protested, leaving no room for argument.
And despite the chaos of the past few d
