Dear Ex, Your Billionaire Uncle Is Mine

Sierra’s Pov 6:30 p.m. Panic gripped my chest as I grabbed the pink dress from the counter and rushed into the changing room. I caught a glimpse of Violet, my assistant, pacing the room in heels. Each sharp click was a sound of disapproval. That was Violet’s silent language for: You're late again. I got the message. But I didn't need the reminder. Brandon hadn't texted me all day, and the silence unsettled me more than I wanted to admit. Only minutes ago, my step mother had stood in the hallway, her back straightened and her red lips parted in a warning: “Sierra, need I remind you for the umpteenth time that the progression of your relationship with the Carr heir is of immense importance to your father and myself?” She’d opened a black lace fan and waved it with visible disgust. “I paid good money for the scoop that Brandon bought an engagement ring yesterday. I expect perfection. Smile. Accept the ring. Don't mess this up. Nod if you understand.” My throat burned but I nodded anyway. I wanted to tell her that I loved him, that this wasn't ambition. But the words wouldn't come. Maybe because deep down, I knew all it would do was make Rose furious. “I won't let you down,” I whispered, despite my trembling hands. She’d turned to leave or so I thought. I’d barely exhaled in relief when Rose stormed right back in, and circled the makeup artist. “More blush on her cheeks, please? She’s as white as a day-old ghost!” I was already thirty-one minutes late for the biggest night of my life, and Brandon Carr didn't tolerate delays. He detested them. We’d been dating for seven months, and he’d made his expectations painfully clear. He’d even had his secretary write them down and sent the list to the house on the very first day. No lateness. No wardrobe emergencies. No last-minute changes. He’d pick out whatever dress he wanted me to wear and have it delivered at least a week before the event. Any mistake on my part would result in him giving me the silent treatment for days… sometimes, weeks. Back then I thought it was romantic, being wanted so precisely. But now I didn’t know anymore. I could only hope that Brandon was too busy welcoming guests and making introductions to notice my absence. It was a long shot… I knew. But I hoped. “You look exquisite as always, Ma’am,” Violet said the instant I stepped out. “Now we only need to get you in the car and we'll be there in no time.” My cheeks became warm at her compliment. Violet always knew the right things to say, but I didn’t want her tagging along tonight. The poor girl already had dark circles underneath her eyes and her posture dropped beneath the weight of exhaustion. “Thank you, Vee. But I mentioned earlier that you should go home. I'll handle the rest.” Violet hesitated, adjusting her glasses. And I sighed. She was impossible. “What is it now?” I asked. “I know you said to go home…but I stayed back just to go with you. I...” I nodded as I made my way to the car. I didn't have the time for this. “Fine, you should come.” *** I should’ve known something was wrong when Brandon didn’t reach for my hand. He never missed a chance to perform. Never let me forget that we were on display. “Amazing, babe. Let them see those diamonds I just got you,” he’d say. “No, babe. Look right. Ah, perfect!” Later he’d say: “Good job tonight baby.” And I’d smile. Always. Because he liked it that way. No questions asked. Tonight, he’d seen me come in and didn't even acknowledge me or reach for my hands to kiss them. I guess I deserved it for being so late and so I sat in a corner with Violet and simply stared at my cocktail. But my hands wouldn't stop shaking. The ballroom was filled to the brim, and I couldn't breathe. I detested the stares, the whispers, and the suffocating need to perform. I stiffened, as I realized I needed air. I ran my slender fingers through my dress, Brandon’s pick of course and stood up to go outside. Then I spotted him. Walking towards me. Looking as dashing as always in his customized navy suit. I smiled at him. But he didn't return it. Instead, he took my hand and, saying nothing, led me to the center of the room. His grip was unusually cold. Like I was walking toward an execution in heels. Was this it? Was he about to propose? My chest began to heave but i forced myself to focus on him. Focus, Sierra. Smile. Someone handed him a microphone and my smile vanished as the ballroom grew quiet. All eyes were on us. Brandon cleared his throat. “May I have your attention, everyone?” He began, and I began to sweat. This was it. My moment. Just like Rose always wanted, and I hoped she was watching. Smile, Sierra, remember. Brandon continued: “I just wanted to say this and make it clear to everyone before it becomes misinterpreted. Sierra and I are no longer an item.” The floor shifted and I couldn’t breathe. Someone laughed or maybe it was the sound of my heart, breaking. Gasps, including mine filled the room. And I stared at him in shock, too stunned to speak. I blinked. Unsure I’d heard right. “What?!” He walked past me then, still holding the microphone. “Sierra is beautiful and incredibly talented, but she’s not the right fit for the Carr legacy. I wish her all the best, moving forward.” Then he turned and winked at me and I nearly choked. “Brandon, what the hell is this?” I demanded as I managed to reach for him. “If this is one of your media stunts, you better stop...” But he flung my hands and walked away. Flashlights caught my face, standing right where he’d placed me. In disgrace. Abandoned in front of everyone who mattered. Then I saw her… Vanessa Grant. The Mayor’s daughter. And my childhood best friend. Standing across the room, smiling as Brandon took her hand. Wearing the same dress I had on, but in red. The same dress Brandon had picked out for me a week ago. Vanessa was still smiling as she held onto his shoulder, whispering something I couldn’t hear. There and then, I staggered backwards as I realized that it wasn't just betrayal. They’d planned this. Strategically. With an audience. And with me as the show.