Chapter 3

Stella’s POV

During my lunch break, Clara called again.

"Stella, when can you make it to New York?" Her voice was filled with eager anticipation. "The estate venue and hotel are already locked down. We're just waiting on you to pick the date."

I leaned against the balcony railing, watching the manicured lawn below. "I have a checklist of fifteen things to finish. Once I cross them off, I'm on the next train. It won't take long."

"Good," Clara said warmly. "Everything is ready for you on this end. Take your time, sweetie."

After hanging up, I opened my phone and crossed one item off my digital checklist. Fourteen left.

By afternoon, a few local friends found out I was leaving and insisted on taking me out for a farewell dinner.

About seven or eight people gathered in the private dining room. They were people I had gotten to know during my years in San Francisco. Someone asked if the marriage rumors were true, and I nodded, confirming I was heading to New York to get married.

They exchanged stunned glances.

"Out of nowhere?"

"Who's the guy?"

"Wait... what about you and Julian?"

I fielded their questions casually without offering details. Some were genuinely happy for me, saying moving back to New York was great because I'd be closer to family. Others felt it was too sudden, holding their glasses with hesitant expressions. I accepted every toast with a smile, drinking quite a bit while keeping my words to a minimum.

When the dinner wrapped up, I stood by the curb waiting for an Uber.

The evening breeze was brisk. I pulled my coat tightly around myself. My first Uber pulled up, but before the driver could stop, a sleek black sedan abruptly cut across the lane, cutting him off. The driver cursed, swerved around the obstacle, and drove off.

I recognized the sedan immediately.

A second Uber arrived, then a third. Each time, Julian's car swerved to block them, bullying the rideshare drivers until none dared pull over.

With no other choice, I walked over, yanked open the passenger door, and slid inside.

The heat was blasting. Julian's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, his expression dark with annoyance.

"That arranged marriage is a joke," he said sharply. "Stop acting out."

I turned my face toward the window. "What am I doing wrong?"

"You know exactly what I mean." Julian's voice simmered with suppressed anger. "Camilla just got back. There's so much I have to sort out for her. Once this busy patch is over, I'll go public with our relationship. Is waiting a little longer really that hard for you?"

I didn't say a word.

I watched the streetlights blur past in the dark, one by one, like the lonely years I had spent counting down the days.

Assuming my silence was compliance, his tone softened. "Tomorrow, go down to the boutique and help Camilla out. She needs an extra pair of hands while trying on dresses."

I pulled my gaze away from the glass. "Sure."

The following afternoon, I arrived at the high-end boutique.

Camilla was already trying on her first gown. When she saw me walk in, she put on a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Stella, you're finally here! Come give me a hand."

For the first gown, Camilla had me crouch on the floor behind her to fasten dozens of tiny, intricate fabric buttons. The buttons were microscopic and placed awkwardly down the train. I squatted on the hardwood floor, painstakingly sliding each one into its loop until my legs went numb. When I tried to shift my weight to stand up, Camilla spoke from above, "There are three left. Hurry up, would you?"

I had no choice but to stay on my knees.

For the second gown, she sent me running back and forth to the jewelry vault to fetch matching pieces.

"These earrings are all wrong. Bring me the pearl drops."

"The pearls look too plain. Get the diamonds."

"The diamonds are too flashy. Switch back to the pearls."

I ran back and forth between the fitting suite and the vault half a dozen times, only for Camilla to sigh and say, "Never mind. I won't wear any jewelry for now."

For the third gown, Camilla made me hold up a heavy full-length vanity mirror.

The heavy glass strained my muscles. My arms began to shake within minutes. Camilla spun in circles before the glass for ten full minutes before frowning. "The angle is off. Shift it an inch to the left."

I gritted my teeth, forcing the heavy frame an inch to the left.

Julian sat on the plush leather couch nearby the entire time, staring down at his phone, without uttering a single word.

Holding the heavy glass, I caught Camilla's smug reflection in the mirror, then glanced over at the man absorbed in his screen. My arms shook violently.

Yet I refused to let the mirror fall.