By the time we reached the hotel suite, Ethan was relaxed, unwinding as if the night had been nothing more than a beautiful beginning to our lives together. He poured champagne, handed me a glass, kissed my forehead—but I didn’t drink. I just watched him. Studied him. Memorized every move, every smug expression.
It was fascinating, really—how easily people could lie. How effortlessly someone you loved could betray you and believe they’d never be caught.
Ethan went on about our honeymoon plans, his excitement evident. I listened, nodding at all the right moments, but inside I was thinking about how different his life would look once I was through with him. Because tomorrow, he would wake up to something he never saw coming.
I lay beside him that night, my body still, my heart steady. Ethan slept easily, peacefully, while I remained awake, staring at the ceiling, my mind weaving together the perfect storm.
He thought I was his. He thought I was trapped.
But Ethan had just married the wrong woman—and by the time he realized it, it would be too late.
The first morning of my marriage should have been filled with soft whispers, sleepy smiles, and the warmth of new beginnings. Instead, I woke up next to a man I could no longer recognize.
Ethan’s breathing was steady beside me, his face peaceful, as if he had not just hours ago mocked the woman he had promised to cherish. The irony of it all was suffocating. I lay there staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the previous night settle over me like a heavy, unshakable fog.
The words he and Liam had exchanged played on repeat in my mind, each syllable slicing through my thoughts like a blade.
You could do better than her. She’s naive. You’ve got her right where you want her.
I turned my head slightly, watching Ethan sleep. His expression was one of complete contentment—blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beside him. He thought he had won. He believed his web of deceit was still intact.
But what he didn’t know—what he couldn’t know—was that he had underestimated me in ways he would soon regret.
I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could, my bare feet against the cool marble floor. Early morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Everything was beautiful, picturesque—the kind of setting I had once imagined my first day as a wife would be.
But now, all I saw was a carefully crafted illusion. A mirage already beginning to crack.
I walked over to the vanity. My reflection stared back at me—unrecognizable. The girl in the mirror had gone to sleep a bride and woken up someone else entirely. Her eyes were sharper, her lips pressed into a firm line. There was no trace of love in her gaze—only cold determination.
I let out a slow breath, steadying myself.
I had work to do.
Ethan stirred behind me, shifting under the covers. “Morning, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
I turned, forcing a soft smile. “Morning.”
He stretched, yawning. “Last night was perfect, wasn’t it?” His eyes met mine—warm, affectionate, like a well-rehearsed act.
I nodded. “Perfect.”
You had no idea how good I was at pretending.
Ethan rolled out of bed and walked over to where I stood. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me into him, pressing a kiss to my temple. I let him.
I needed him to believe nothing had changed—that I was still his naive, trusting wife. If he saw even a flicker of doubt in my eyes, everything I was planning would be ruined.
“I was thinking we should have breakfast on the balcony,” he suggested, his fingers brushing over my arm. “Just us. No more chaos, no more guests—just you and me.”
How ironic. He wanted intimacy now, after what he had done. The thought made my stomach turn, but I smiled anyway. “That sounds nice.”
He kissed me once more before stepping away to grab his phone. As he scrolled through it, a slow smirk curved on his lips. “Liam’s already up,” he said. “He sent me a text saying he’s still laughing about last night.”
I swallowed the anger that rose in my throat.
Still laughing. Of course he was.
Liam had spent years making a sport out of making me feel insignificant. Why would my wedding night be any different?
I moved to my suitcase, pretending to look for something, my mind racing. I had spent the entire night plotting—running through every possible move I could make. I needed to be strategic. Careful.
Revenge was best served slowly, with precision.
And I intended to make every moment of this count.
I pulled out my phone, scrolling through my messages. Among them was one I had sent to myself at 3:00 a.m., when I couldn’t sleep.
Step one: establish control.
Ethan thought he had the upper hand, but I had leverage. Real leverage. I had spent years listening, watching, absorbing every little detail—about him, about Liam—and now all of it was going to come back to haunt them.
He thought he had married a woman who would never leave, but I had already started paving my way out.
The first step: money.
Ethan had always been careless about his finances. He trusted me enough to let me handle most of our joint accounts, and while I had never considered exploiting that before, last night had changed everything.
He had built this marriage on deceit. Why should I play by the rules?
While Ethan showered, I opened my laptop and got to work. I transferred small amounts—nothing too noticeable—into a separate account. A safety net. This was going to end, and it was going to end on my terms.
I closed the laptop just as Ethan walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.
“You coming?” he asked, running a hand through his damp hair.
I smiled. “I’ll be right there.”
As soon as he was gone, I exhaled slowly.
