I swore if I had to smile for one more fake photo, I was going to stab someone with my butter knife. “Ives, you have lipstick on your cheek,” I muttered through gritted teeth, plastering on a grin for the flashing cameras.
He leaned in, whispering against my temple, “Then fix it, darling. People are watching.” I wiped it off with a practiced flick of my thumb while he adjusted his cufflinks. We looked like the perfect pair, polished and predictable.
The board had finally stopped breathing down his neck, now convinced our little engagement circus meant he was emotionally stable. “A power couple,” one article had called us last week. Yeah. If power meant zero calories, no real conversation, and being chained to a man who only touched me when people were watching.
We were halfway through the gala when I spotted the buffet table. Real food. Bacon-wrapped shrimp, tiny sliders, deviled eggs, my mouth watered. “I’m gonna grab a plate,” I whispered, already walking.
He grabbed my wrist. Gently. But with pressure. “Not now. Senator Melrose is watching. Just smile. Laugh at something I say. We'll eat later.”
I blinked. “I’m hungry now.”
“And I’m working now,” he snapped. His eyes flicked toward the senator. “Just… don’t ruin the rhythm.”
I yanked my hand back and forced another fake laugh as he guided me toward the next politician with a donation check and a God complex. My phone vibrated in my clutch. Twice. I opened it discreetly.
Dana: Grandma’s in ICU. It’s bad. Come fast.
My breath caught, and my chest tightened. Suddenly, the room felt too loud, too hot, too full of Ives’ hand resting perfectly on my lower back. I took two steps back. “I need to go.”
“Excuse me?” he said, low enough that no one else could hear.
“I need to leave. It’s family. Emergency.”
He looked at me like I’d just said I wanted to streak across the ballroom. “Now?”
I didn’t answer, and kept walking. By the time I reached the hospital, my lungs burned from the speed of everything, my heels, worry, the fear pressing hard against my ribs. Dana was waiting near the emergency entrance. Her eyes were red, makeup smudged.
“She’s in ICU,” she said. “They’re stabilizing her now. They don’t know if-”
“I’m here,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “We’re here.”
And for a while, we sat in that ugly, fluorescent hallway in silence, watching nurses pass like ghosts. At some point, I felt it. A click. I looked up, nothing but vending machines and stale coffee. Weird, but I ignored it. I should’ve known better. The next morning, my face was everywhere.
“Mrs. Mercer Vanishes Mid-Gala. Storm Brewing?”
“Runaway Bride 2.0?”
“Fake Love or Real Trouble?”
The photos weren’t flattering. One showed me walking out of the gala alone, another caught me outside the hospital hugging Dana. A few genius outlets cropped the hug and slapped on headlines like “Marla seeks comfort elsewhere?”
They didn’t say I was with my cousin, they didn’t care about the hospital. All they cared about was the optics. I left Ives alone in public, and now the internet thought we were separating. I barely threw on a hoodie before rushing back to the townhouse. The headlines made it sound like I’d ghosted my own wedding. I needed to clear this up, now.
“Ives?” I called as I slammed the door shut behind me. “We need to talk.”
He sat on the couch in a crisp button-up, watching some financial news channel like the world wasn’t on fire. “Nice of you to show up,” he said without looking at me.
“I didn’t run off for fun. It was my grandmother.”
“Yeah, I figured. But guess what, nobody else knows that.”
I crossed my arms. “Why didn’t you just tell them?”
“I tried,” he snapped, standing. “But by then, the narrative was already spinning. You left me there, Marla. With investors asking where my fiancée went. We looked like a train wreck.”
“You’re mad about optics?”
“I’m mad that I was blindsided. Do you know how stupid I looked?”
I blinked. “My grandma was in the ICU.”
“I get that. But you could’ve said something. Whispered, waved, anything. Instead, you vanished.”
“I couldn’t think! I panicked. I’m sorry-” I stopped myself. “Actually, no. I’m not sorry. I did what I had to do.”
“You embarrassed me.” I froze.
Wow. I expected attitude, but this? This was worse, he was too self-centered. He only thought of himself, and that made him... disgusting.
“You think this is about you?” I asked. He fell silent, jaw tight, and eyes dark.
“You really care more about your board than me?” I said quietly.
“That’s not what I-”
“I didn’t disappear for no reason. I had a crisis. But you-” my voice cracked, “you didn’t even ask if I was okay.” He swallowed hardn unable to answer.
“I can’t keep doing this,” I said. I tugged the ring off my finger. “Smiling when I’m falling apart. Playing house while you treat me like a PR move.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” I scoffed. I dropped the ring on the table between us. The sound echoed, too loud in the quiet room.
“I don’t want this contract anymore,” I said. “Not if it means disappearing every time it’s inconvenient for you.” That shut him up. For the first time, Ives Mercer looked like he didn’t know what to say. But me? I was done saying anything at all.