Steal My Groom? Enjoy the Six-Figure Debt

The wedding was scheduled to take place at Morning Mist Winery in Willowcrest Valley. The winery didn't host ordinary weddings. Its event spaces were reserved only for private members and longtime business partners. The reception hall overlooked the vineyard, and on clear days, the ridgeline stretched across the horizon beyond its floor-to-ceiling windows. Mark Sandy had brought his friends there once. Ever since, he'd told everyone he was close to the owner. I never corrected him. Morning Mist was my father's company's largest winery partner in Westland. Our wine-import business had helped the winery break into the East Coast market, and when I turned 18, its owner gave me the first private membership card ever issued to someone outside his family. Mark was only a regional sales manager at my father's company. After we got engaged, Dad had planned to promote him. He even handed Mark several restaurant accounts he'd previously managed himself. Mark closed two deals and promptly decided he'd made it into the upper echelons of the industry. Throughout the wedding preparations, he never asked about the contracts or looked at a single invoice. His only contribution was posting pictures of the wine cellar, vintage cars, and mountain-view suites on social media. His friends assumed he'd earned all of it himself. Leah Holt obviously felt the same way. When she walked into the dressing room, her gaze swept over my diamond earrings before settling on the vineyard outside the window. "Mark really went all out," she said as she opened her makeup case, her tone carrying the easy familiarity of someone who knew him well. "I always knew he'd be somebody someday." I glanced at her. Mark had recommended the bridal styling team. He said Leah had worked on celebrity weddings in San Aurelia and was nearly impossible to book. During my trial session, she'd worn a mask and let her assistant do most of the work. Her eyes had seemed familiar, but I hadn't thought much of it. Now that her mask was off, she reminded me of an old photograph buried in the back of Mark's desk. "Did you know Mark before this?" I asked. Leah's brush paused for a beat as she was putting on my blush. "Willowcrest is a small place. Everyone knows everyone." She changed the subject with a smile and told me to close my eyes. I'd stayed up until 2:00 a.m. finalizing the seating chart, and I was exhausted. I closed my eyes, intending to rest for a few minutes. When I opened them again, a stranger stared back at me from the mirror. Chalk-white foundation had caked around my nose. My brows were thick and black, and blue eyeshadow stretched all the way to my temples. Leah had even drawn beyond my natural lip line in dark purple, making me look like a faded plastic mannequin from a department-store window in the '80s. With her back to me, Leah cleaned her brushes. Her shoulders trembled. She was laughing. Then the door opened. Mark came in with two of his groomsmen. The room fell silent for a second when they saw my face, then erupted in laughter. "Oh my God." Mark gripped the door frame. "Leah, are you trying to make me marry an '80s album cover?" Leah laughed so hard she crouched beside her makeup case. "She said she trusted me. I just wanted to see whether the distinguished Miss Bennett could pull off any look." They were mocking me. Mark didn't care how I felt. He walked over and rubbed a finger across the tail of my eyebrow as if he were inspecting an amusing prop. "Just wash it off and start over. Don't sulk. We have a lot of guests here today. You can take a joke, can't you?" I stared at the smile still lingering on his lips, and the last of my hope sank away. For three years, I'd mistaken his cruelty for bluntness and his vanity for ambition. I'd convinced myself he simply wasn't used to my world. I loved him, so I kept making excuses for him. But he knew Leah was humiliating me. He let her turn me into the punchline. Our three-year relationship didn't end with some earth-shattering betrayal. It died in a room full of laughter. I met Mark's gaze in the mirror. "Make her apologize." Leah's smile vanished, and her eyes turned red on command. Mark's face hardened. "Erin, don't bully the staff on our wedding day." I pulled out a makeup wipe and dragged it across my lips. The purple-black lipstick left a filthy streak on the white cloth, just like the love between us.