Her lips curved in a smile.
"Am I really that beautiful, Starlene? Why are you crying?"
"They decided at the last minute to switch to a conventional wedding style. The makeup artist didn’t know how to adjust for it, so she quit."
"By the way, you’re so good at makeup. Why don’t you do mine today?"
She was about the same size as me, so the gown fit her perfectly and no alterations were needed.
Dizziness hit me and the staircase seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
Suddenly, a figure appeared behind me and I stumbled into a broad chest.
Rhea tilted her head, pouting in mock grievance.
"If you don’t want to, just say so, Starlene. No need to make a show of refusing me, okay?"
Turning around, I met Justin’s eyes—cold, sharp and threatening.
"She wouldn’t dare, would you, Starlene?"
In that instant, the dam inside me finally burst.
I almost asked Justin if, from the very beginning, he had never intended for me to wear this dress.
If, from the start, I had never been the real bride in his version of the story.
If my presence had only ever been a bargaining chip, a lure to bring Rhea Winslet back to this country.