I used to think Steven’s mother was just tough on the outside, soft on the inside. That maybe, deep down, she did like me. But after what I overheard at the postnatal recovery center, I stopped fooling myself.
I answered calmly, “Steven and I have broken up, Mrs. Grant. Isn't calling the wedding’s off the right to do?”
“Broken up? What is it this time—did you upset him again? Then apologize! You're a woman, aren't you? You should know how to keep your man happy. No one else—"
I hung up. I was done being talked down to like that.
The next morning, Jaxon took me to try on wedding dresses. Midway through, he stepped outside for a work call and told me to go ahead without him.
I slipped into the gown he had specially flown in from Italy and turned towards the mirror.
When I heard movement behind me, I turned out of reflex and smiled, “What do you think? Do I look good?”
For a split second, I saw something like awe flash through Steven’s eyes. But then I also noticed Nellie stepping out from another fitting room.
Steven’s expression darkened immediately. He strode over and yanked the veil from my head.
“Oh, I see how it is,” he sneered. “You’re the one who called off the wedding and now here you are trying on dresses in secret? Playing hard to get, is that it? You think this is all some fun little game?”
His hand moved fast. The veil was torn off in a single jerk. The pins dug into my skin—one of them grazed my cheek. Blood welled up instantly, staining the couture dress I was wearing.
I winced, crying out from the sharp pain. “Steven, I didn’t come here for you!”
Nellie stepped in, her eyes already glistening with tears. “I swear, Lucia, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to try on a dress and take a photo. A little memory, that’s all. I’m not trying to marry Mr. Grant.”
Steven let out a bitter laugh. “Why bother explaining to someone like her? Lucia, I used to think you were just a little dramatic. I let things slide because I loved you. But this?” He gestured wildly. “This is you ruining our wedding like a selfish brat.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “Forget it. No wedding.”
Then he grabbed at the dress, trying to rip it off me, trying to push me out of the boutique like I didn’t belong there.
I struggled, trying to keep the gown from slipping. Just as he pressed down on my waist and tried to strip the dress from me in front of everyone, Jaxon arrived.