HIS FAKE BRIDE

CHAPTER FOUR

The café buzzed with afternoon chatter as Erin slid into the booth across from Tiffany and Mitchell. The familiar smell of coffee and pastries should have been comforting, but today nothing felt normal. The world had lost its warmth since that day, colors seemed duller, sounds more hollow. Even the sunlight streaming through the café windows felt like it was mocking her pain.

"You look terrible," Mitchell said, pushing a latte toward her. "Though I guess finding your fiancé with your best friend will do that to a person." The steam rising from the cup created a momentary barrier between them, like a visual representation of the fog Erin had been living in.

Tiffany kicked Mitchell under the table. "What she means is, we're here for you." Her eyes were soft with concern, hands fidgeting with her own cup as if she wanted to reach out but wasn't sure how.

Erin wrapped her hands around the warm cup, seeking comfort in its heat when everything else felt cold. "It's not just Kevin and Ashley. You should have seen Victoria today – calling me trouble, worthless. And Dad just sat there, letting her say those things." Her voice cracked as she let it all out, the words tumbling like fallen leaves. "Then she slapped me." The sting of the slap still lingered, not just physically but deep in her soul.

"She did what?" Tiffany's eyes flashed with protective fury. "That witch has gone too far." The café seemed to grow quieter around them, as if sensing the tension building at their table.

Mitchell's phone buzzed, interrupting their conversation. Her gasp made both women look up, the sound sharp enough to cut through the ambient noise. "You need to see this," she said, her finger sliding across the screen, hesitation evident in her movement.

Erin's stomach turned as Mitchell held out her phone. There they were – Kevin and Ashley, walking hand in hand through the park, their happiness a knife twisting in her gut. Another photo showed them kissing outside a restaurant. The post was from just thirty minutes ago, the timestamp a cruel reminder of how quickly life moved on without her.

"That slimy b***h! I'd drag her ugly looking red hairs out if I saw her. b***h!" Mitchell spat, her words drawing concerned glances from nearby tables.

"We should punch his car tyres so that he has an accident on the road and dies a terrible death," Mitchell suggested, only half-joking. The darkness in her voice matched the shadows under Erin's eyes.

"No," Erin said, pushing away from the table. The screech of chair legs against floor made her wince. "He's not worth it. I need some air." The café's warmth suddenly felt suffocating.

Her friends looked at her, their eyes gleaming with pity before parting ways with her only after making sure they knew she was okay. Their concern felt like another weight on her shoulders.

The walk back home did nothing to alleviate her pain. The streets seemed emptier than usual, each step echoing her loneliness. Glancing back, she caught a glimpse of someone ducking behind a building– a dark figure in a black coat. The sight sent ice through her veins.

Her heart raced as she picked up her pace, the click of her heels on pavement suddenly too loud. The footsteps behind her quickened too, matching her rhythm like a shadow's dance. She took a sharp left, then another, her steps echoing on the empty sidewalk. When she looked back again, the figure was gone, but the feeling of being watched remained, clinging to her like a second skin.

Erin practically ran the last block to her apartment building, her breath coming in short gasps. Her hands shook as she fumbled with her keys, the metal cool against her trembling fingers.

"Who the hell was that?" she whispered, double-checking the locks on her door. The sound of each bolt sliding into place offered little comfort.

Lucian. The name came to her thoughts as the one person that would send someone to follow her. Before she could fully process her thoughts, her hands moved to dial his number, muscle memory taking over reason.

One ring. Two rings. Each second stretched like honey.

"Finally," his voice came through the speaker, rich and commanding. "Wedding dress fitting. Tomorrow. 2PM. A car will pick you up."

"Wait, what? I can't just—"

"You can, and you will." The line went dead before she could protest, she had not even asked him the question she called him for. That arrogant bastard.

Erin threw her phone onto the couch, fury rising in her chest like a tide. "Who does he think he is?" she muttered, pacing her living room. But beneath the anger, a troubling thought surfaced, the person following her. The shadow of doubt grew longer with each pass across her floor.

"Did he send someone to follow me?" She hugged herself, suddenly feeling exposed even in her own apartment. She felt so alone, she couldn't trust anyone. Not Kevin, not Ashley, not even my own father. And definitely not Lucian Ashford."

The next day, exactly at 2 PM, a sleek black car pulled up in front of Erin's apartment building. The driver, wearing a crisp uniform, held the door open without a word, his silence another reminder of the world she was being pulled into.

"La Rose Bridal," Erin whispered as they pulled up to their destination. The shop's elegant storefront screamed luxury, each gilded letter a reminder of dreams now tarnished. She'd dreamed of coming here once, back when those dreams still felt possible.

Her phone buzzed – "Dad" flashing on the screen. The memory of their last meeting still stung at her heart, his silence during Victoria's tirade echoing louder than any words.

Inside, the boutique was all crystal chandeliers and plush white carpets. Lucian stood near the entrance, looking extremely handsome in a charcoal suit as he spoke with the shop's manager. His presence commanded attention from everyone in the room, everyone except Erin, who was trying her best to ignore him.

That's when she heard it – a laugh she could recognize anywhere. Ashley's laugh. The sound cut through the elegant atmosphere like a blade.

Before she could stop herself, Erin followed the sound. Again, she wanted to walk away but her body protested, drawn forward by some masochistic need to see.

She pushed open the dressing room door and froze at the sight in front of her, the wave of betrayal came flooding back again.

They were kissing, lost in their own world, as if they hadn't destroyed someone else's just days ago. Ashley was in a wedding dress and it stung at her even more, because it looked like she was being betrayed all over again. Kevin. The wedding dress. Their intimate moment.

She was disgusted.