The Three-Year Lie: Her Sweet Revenge

ca

out only for brief, humiliating trips to the bathroom, a bottle of wa

door swung open. It was Emmanuel, a smirk pla

king over my disheveled form. "Time to go pick out your we

mb to react. He hauled me to my feet and pushed me tow

ers. Bianca was in the passenger seat, chattering brightly about the designer boutique we were

silk and shimmering crystals. Bia

"I told them they were being too harsh, but you know how protective they are of me." She leaned in, her

simply pulled away and gave her a small, polite smile

he quickly rearranged her features into a mask of sweet benevolence. She didn'

air. "Oh, Anthony, darling, what do you think of this one for me? For the reception, p

ny said, his voice t

," Emmanuel added, his eye

pletely ignoring my presence. I felt lik

er to Bianca. "Oh, you must be the bride! You are g

id of honor. Erica is the lucky bride." She shot me a look dripping with mock pity. "Anthon

me, his expression bored.

," I sai

one out at random. A simple, elegan

tant help me into it. When I stepped out, the m

blivious to the cold blade of abandonment twisting in my gut. "T

. A pale, hollow-eyed stranger in a beautiful white

room. "On second thought," I told the a

s and walked out of the bouti

ulously expensive veil, the diamond embroidery catching the

l bag. I systematically went through the apartment, purging it of my existence. Every b

jewelry, the designer bags, the expensive

o the bedroom. My bedroom. He w

que," he said, his voice a soft, practiced imitati

I recognized them from a magazine Bianca had been lookin

word. My cold complianc

loset?" he asked, trying to read

ad, my eyes downca

ng my chin up with his finger. "Don't worry," he murmured, his voice dropping into the intimate register I now knew w

e body went rigid with revulsion. He l

up my throat. I tore myself from his grasp, clappi

onfusion, the smooth mask of 'A

man who was the father of the child I was about to abort,