Chapter 2

The next morning, Anderson arrived with his groomsmen to pick me up.

Mia came along too.

When she walked through the door and saw me in my wedding dress, she burst into tears.

"Lisa, I'm so jealous. You get to marry the man you love. You're so lucky."

"Not like me. My parents are trying to marry me off to a ninety-year-old just to pay off their debts."

"But thankfully," she dabbed at her tears and shot a pointed look at Anderson, "someone already took me to get our marriage license this morning. That old man can't have me now."

Hearing the pride in her voice, I went completely still.

I'd already known about the plan to send me in her place.

What I hadn't known was that Anderson had already married her.

My best friend Laura didn't know any of this. She leaned close and whispered, "Today is your big day with Anderson. What is she even doing here?"

"And crying on purpose like that — is she trying to bring bad luck?"

"It's fine," I said, patting Laura's hand.

Today was never going to be my wedding with Anderson.

He was only pretending to go through the motions — just long enough to get me into the car.

Laura suggested we play the traditional game of hiding the bride's shoes.

Anderson frowned slightly. "Everyone help look. We don't have much time."

His friends searched the room and quickly found my wedding heels.

Anderson took the shoes and walked straight toward Mia.

"Lisa, Mia twisted her ankle on the way here. Her heels are broken."

He crouched in front of Mia and smoothly swapped out her damaged shoes.

"Mia has delicate feet. She can't wear rough shoes." He glanced back at me. "Let her have your wedding heels."

Then he pulled a worn-out pair of sneakers from the shoe rack and set them in front of me.

"They're just shoes." He looked at me steadily, his smile still soft. "You won't make a fuss over something like this, will you?"

"Anderson, those are her wedding shoes!" Laura couldn't stay quiet.

"So what?" Anderson's brow creased slightly. "They're just shoes. Does it really matter which pair she wears?"

"It's not just about the shoes —"

"Let it go, Laura." I stepped in front of her. "She can have them."

Mia was the daughter of Anderson's boss.

For the past two years, Anderson had always used that as an excuse — "we can't afford to upset her" — and I had given way every single time.

I gave Mia credit for my work projects. I gave her my pet. I gave her clothes and jewelry I loved.

And now, apparently, I was giving her my husband too.

Eight years with Anderson, and what I got in return was an elaborately planned betrayal.

Mia slipped on my wedding heels and couldn't hide her satisfaction.

"Anderson, these fit me perfectly. It's like they were made for me." She smiled smugly. "Where did you get them?"

The pattern on those shoes had been designed by Anderson himself.

When he was twenty, he pricked his fingers countless times working on them.

He'd told me then: "Lisa, I don't mind the pain. When we get married, you'll wear these. I want to make you the only pair of wedding shoes like this in the whole world."

Back then, Anderson had been so good to me.

He hated seeing me hurt. He wanted to give me everything.

Then Mia came along, and everything changed.