I was supposed to be engaged tonight.
The ring was already warm in Callum’s pocket. I had seen the box that morning, black velvet, sitting like a promise on his dresser while he kissed my shoulder and told me to wear the red dress. I wore it. I did my mouth dark. I walked into the Vale ballroom ready to say yes in front of everyone who had ever looked at me like I was temporary.
Then he got on the little stage beside the ice sculpture and put his hand on Vivienne Vale’s waist.
“We’re getting married,” he said, smiling like he had not spent two years f*****g me in his car, his office, my cheap apartment. “Vivienne said yes.”
The room clapped. Her father did not. Roman Vale stood at the edge of the light in a black suit, silver at his temples, watching his daughter get claimed by a man w
