Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Before the wedding, Ryan had told me repeatedly–practically begged me—not to
come.
He tried to couch it in polite terms, saying he didn’t want Emily to misunderstand or cause any unnecessary drama. But the message was clear: I was to know my place. In his mind, that meant I was supposed to stay hidden, to play the dutiful mistress,
content with secrecy and silence.
As the newlyweds approached our table, the room was abuzz with sycophantic congratulations.
“Congratulations, Mr. Cooper and Ms. Hart! What a perfect couple!”
“Wishing you both endless happiness and a prosperous future!”
The guests at our table rose to their feet, their smiles wide and their hands full of
red envelopes. Many of them were familiar
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faces–business associates from Ryan‘ s company, people I’d met during our years together.
To them, this marriage was a golden ticket. By hitching their wagons to Ryan’s newfound wealth and status, they hoped to secure their own fortunes. It was clear now why Ryan had orchestrated such a grand, extravagant event. The luxury, the media presence, the endless stream of guests—it wasn’t just about love or appearances. It was a business move, a calculated ploy to instill confidence in his company‘ s future. And it was working.
Ryan stood tall, basking in the glow of their admiration. The compliments rolled in, each one feeding his already inflated ego. But as they neared me, the energy shifted.
I rose from my seat, a glass of wine in hand and greeted them with a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
The moment Ryan saw me, his expression faltered. His pupils narrowed and a flicker
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of panic darted across his face. But it wasn’t Ryan who seemed most shaken.
It was Emily.
Her face drained of color, her forced smile crumbling as she locked eyes with me. She looked like she’d just seen a ghost. And in a way, she had.
Half a year ago, my mother and I had dragged her out of that hotel room–naked, humiliated and terrified. I’d grabbed her by the hair and slapped her eighteen times, each one a bitter catharsis for the betrayal she‘ d embodied.
That memory must have haunted her, because here she was now, trembling in her designer gown, unable to hide the fear in her eyes. But I wasn’t about to blow my cover just yet.
I tilted my glass toward Ryan, a faint smile playing on my lips. “An ex–boyfriend getting married and his ex–girlfriend showing up to give her blessing,” I said
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lightly. “Shouldn’t you feel honored?”
The room fell silent for a beat before erupting into a mix of gasps and murmurs.
“Mr. Cooper, you‘ re incredible! Even
your ex came to support you–what a man of charm!”
“That’s some next–level charisma right there!”
The sycophants were quick to spin the awkward moment into yet another compliment, eager to keep Ryan‘ s good
graces.
Ryan, forced to maintain his composure, managed a tight–lipped smile. “Claire,” he said, his voice overly formal, “even though we parted ways long ago, I’m truly glad you could be here to celebrate with us.”
He raised his glass in a mock toast,
signaling to the best man with a subtle nod. “This toast is for you.”
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The best man, catching the cue, hurried to pour wine into my glass. I watched them both, my smile never wavering, as the game continued to unfold.
