Chapter 2

The banquet hall was heated to excess.

I had barely sat down when Ethan's assistant came over with a message.

"Miss Nora, Mr. Hale says the media are all here. He'd like you to change and come back in ten minutes for a photo."

My knees were wrapped in a wet towel, my calves stiff with pain.

I asked: "Where are my clothes?"

The assistant's gaze flickered, then she led me to the coatroom.

The door swung open to reveal two rows of gowns.

The left side was all Lily's.

Champagne, pearl white, dusty rose—even the backup shawls arranged by color.

On the right hung a single black dress.

The waistline had been re-taken, the stitching hidden in the lining, invisible from the outside.

The assistant said quietly:

"Mr. Hale said you're not particular. Wear this one for now."

I reached out and touched the waist. The fit was exact.

He remembered my measurements.

But remembering them didn't stop him from giving me the leftovers.

Lily's voice came from the doorway.

"Nora, don't blame Ethan. I had someone alter that dress ahead of time. I was worried you wouldn't have anything that fit."

She walked in, her white gown like snow. The hem was made from hand-sewn lace that the Paris atelier produced only three of this year.

I looked at her.

"So this is the one you didn't want?"

Lily's face went pale for an instant, then quickly arranged itself into hurt.

"I just thought black was more understated. More suited to you."

Ethan came in after her.

He caught the tail end, and his brow creased.

"Nora, Lily was trying to help. Don't twist her kindness into something ugly."

I hung the black dress back on the rack.

"I'm not wearing it."

The coatroom went silent.

Ethan stepped closer, his gaze falling on my frost-blue wrists. He reached out and touched one—barely, lightly.

"Just change first. Don't let yourself freeze."

I caught the cedar scent on him.

Once, I had loved that smell.

In my last life, all he had to do was come a little closer and I could swallow every grievance whole.

Lily let out a soft laugh beside us.

"Ethan, don't go soft too early. She hasn't signed the statement yet. Once she's feeling better, she'll just say we bullied her again."

Ethan's hand stopped in midair.

I froze too.

So that small piece of warmth was just a tool—meant to coax me into swallowing tonight's humiliation quietly.

Ethan turned his head, his voice dropping slightly.

"Lily."

Lily immediately lowered her eyes: "I'm sorry. I said the wrong thing."

But the words had already landed. Like a needle, puncturing the last thin membrane of an old dream inside me.

I pulled my hand back.

"Take the photos without me."

Ethan's expression went completely cold: "Nora, don't mistake my patience for something you're owed."

I put on my own coat and pulled open the coatroom door.

Outside, the reporters were already waiting.

The lights hit me. Every lens pointed my way.

I didn't flinch.

A half-wet gown, an old coat, a face white with cold.

I walked the red carpet one step at a time.

Behind me, Lily wore the haute couture gown that should have belonged to the proposal's leading lady, her arm linked through Ethan's.

Camera flashes erupted in a blinding sheet.

Someone murmured: "Who's the real star tonight?"

Ethan didn't answer.

I didn't look back.

The answer had been in front of everyone all along.