Try to make me cry

Chapter 16: The Architecture of a Sacrifice

The air in Hawaii felt heavy and damp, smelling of tropical flowers and the salty sea. It had been two days since our tense flight, and in that time, Eddie and I had barely spoken. He just hung around the doorway of our room like a shadow.

I stood in front of the tall mirror, acting calm even though I felt empty inside. I picked out a long, black silk dress. It was a huge contrast to the bright, flowery outfits my sisters, Lily and Bethany, would definitely wear. To me, it felt like I was dressing for a funeral—my own.

I smoothed the dress over my hip to make sure it hid the bandage on my knee. I looked powerful and cold, like the boss everyone thought I was. I didn't look like a woman who had spent two days wondering if her husband was a villain or just another person caught up in my family's lies.

As I walked downstairs, the sound of my heels on the marble floor felt like a clock ticking down to something bad.

Eddie was waiting in the expansive, open-concept living room. The ocean breeze tugged at the curtains, but he stood perfectly still, a pillar of cold linen and iron will. He looked every bit the powerful, detached master of Veritas City.

“Your father called,” Eddie said. He didn’t turn around. His voice was flat, a controlled monotone that usually signaled he was in merger mode. “He expects us to present a united front regarding the partnership tonight. He also mentioned Edison Willow will be there.”

I froze mid-step. The name hit me like a low-frequency hum. Edison. That name sounds familiar.

“And why is that relevant?” I asked. I moved toward the bar, pouring myself a glass of chilled water I didn't want, just to give my hands something to do. My heart, traitorous and frantic, began a jagged rhythm against my ribs.

“He’s your father’s new protégé,” Eddie said, finally turning. His green eyes were sharp, scanning my face for a crack. “He’s also the son of a major competitor and a highly eligible bachelor. Your father intends to introduce him to Bethany if the partnership fails.”

He stepped closer, the scent of his woodsy cologne cutting through the salt air. “Keep your distance, Maggie. He’s here to look for a wife who can benefit his family, not cause trouble.”

I tilted my head, a slow, icy drawl spilling from my lips. “You sound worried, husband. Jealous, perhaps?”

Eddie’s jaw clenched so hard I heard the bone grind. “Don’t be ridiculous. I am only concerned about the stability of my company. Your impulsive behavior at the restaurant already caused enough of a stir. Stick to my side, or keep your mouth shut.”

I didn't answer. I just drank the water, the coldness of it matching the ash-taste of the word husband.

The House of Glass

The Ho family’s private beach house was an architectural scream of "look at us." It was all glass, teak, and white volcanic stone, glowing like a lantern against the darkening Pacific.

As we stepped onto the terrace, the air was already thick with the saccharine laughter of my sisters. Lily was glowing, her hand perpetually resting on her pregnant stomach as if it were a trophy. Bethany was draped in a neon pink chiffon that hurt to look at.

“I heard about the restaurant, Maggie,” Bethany said, cornering me before I could even reach the bar. Her smile didn't reach her eyes—it never did. “You’ve always been so desperate for attention. Poor Eddie. He must be humiliated to have a wife who throws tantrums in public.”

I adjusted my silk clutch, letting a small, lethal smile touch my lips. “The only thing humiliating here is your attempt at a fashion statement, Bethany. You look like a highlighter that’s running out of ink.”

Bethany’s face flushed a blotchy red, but before she could snap back, a voice like warm honey cut through the tension.

“Maggie Grayson! I was hoping I’d see you again.”

It was Edison Willow. He looked effortlessly handsome in a light grey suit. He ignored Eddie completely and took my hand, his eyes full of a warmth that felt completely foreign in this house.

“Edison,” I said, my voice softer than I wanted it to be. Why is he here talking to me… "We've met before?”

“I must apologize for that night,” he whispered, leaning in close. “I mistakenly stained your suit and you just got up and left that event.” She didn’t even look at me.

Beside me, Eddie went rigid. He placed a heavy, possessive hand on the small of my back.

“Mr. Willow,” Eddie growled. “Acknowledge the husband before you address the wife. We have family matters to discuss.”

Edison just smiled, totally unfazed. “Of course. But Maggie, you forgot to ask for my name that night. It’s Edison. Edison Willow.”

As the sun set, my mother tapped a glass with a silver spoon. The sound was sharp and cold.

“A toast,” she chirped, standing by my father. “To Lily and her husband for their wonderful fertility. We are so blessed!”

The guests clapped, but my mother’s eyes turned toward me, turning into chips of ice.

“And to Maggie. My poor, unfortunate child. I’m so happy I finally found a use for you, even if it was just marrying you off for your sister’s sake.”

I felt the air leave my lungs. Eddie’s grip on my waist tightened.

“You see, dear Maggie,” she continued, her voice full of venom. “You were always the sacrifice. Your father’s first choice for Eddie was actually Bethany. But she refused. The contract required a daughter to be married within the year to get the money. You were simply... next in line.”

The world tilted. I wasn't a choice. I was a spare tire. I was the second-hand daughter used to fix a gap left by my sister.

“Even your name,” my mother sneered. “Maggie was the name of the woman your father truly loved before me. You are a constant reminder of my failure to keep him. Isn't that a tragedy?”

I looked at my father. He looked at the floor. I looked at Eddie. He looked back at me with an expression of pity and guilt. He knew. He had known all along that I was just a replacement.

A single, hot tear tracked a path down my cheek. Maggie Grayson, the Tyrant, had been made to cry in front of everyone.

The Great Escape

I needed to run. I needed the ocean to swallow me. Suddenly, a hand grabbed my wrist. It wasn't Eddie. It was Edison.

“Excuse us,” Edison said, his voice hard as steel. He led me away from the crowd, down toward the dark sand.

“I told you I’m a showstopper,” I choked out, my voice trembling.

“You’re a victim, Maggie. And you don’t deserve this,” Edison said, stopping by the waves. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my tear-filled eyes. “Not from them. And not from him.”

“Willow! Take your hands off my wife!”

Eddie strode down the sand, looking like a god of war. He looked furious—not at Edison, but at the fact that I was broken.

“She’s had enough of your family, Grayson,” Edison countered, stepping in front of me.

“You don’t know a thing about her,” Eddie spat. He reached for my arm. “You’re coming with me. Now.”

“No!” I shouted, yanking my arm away. I looked at Eddie—the man who knew I was a consolation prize—and then at Edison, who offered me a way out. “Edison, take your hands off me, please.”