Tonight the Laurents were throwing us an engagement party. Vivienne insisted on handling everything. The venue, the guest list, the flowers, the caterers — all of it. She smiled when she told me not to worry about a thing and I smiled back because that's what you do when your future mother-in-law offers to plan your party. You say thank you and you stay out of her way.
I didn't trust Vivienne. I never had. But Julian loved his mother with a devotion that made it impossible to say anything about her without sounding jealous or ungrateful. So I kept my opinions where they were safe — behind my teeth.
"Stop fidgeting." Aria slapped my hand away from the neckline of my dress for the third time. She was sitting on the bathroom counter in my apartment, legs swinging, already fully dressed and looking like she hadn't spent a single minute getting ready. That was the thing about Aria Laurent. She was effortlessly everything. Twenty-three, long legs, sharp tongue, and the kind of face that made men do stupid things. She was Julian's younger sister and somehow my closest friend, which made zero sense on paper but made all the sense in the world in practice.
We met the first time Julian brought me to a family dinner. I had been so nervous I almost threw up in the car on the way there. Vivienne had given me this slow once-over when I walked in, the kind that started at your shoes and ended at your edges, and I could tell from the slight tightening of her mouth that I hadn't passed whatever test she was administering. But Aria had walked right up to me, hugged me like she'd known me for years, and whispered, "Don't worry, she does that to everyone. You're fine." I loved her from that moment.
"I'm not fidgeting, the neckline is too low." I tugged at it again.
"The neckline is perfect. Your tits look incredible. Leave it alone." She hopped off the counter and stood behind me in the mirror. The dress was a deep burgundy, fitted through the waist and hips, with a slit that stopped mid-thigh. I had to admit, I looked good. My locs were pulled up in a way that showed off my neck and shoulders, my skin was glowing from the obscenely expensive body oil Aria had gifted me last week, and my makeup was minimal but precise. I looked like a woman who had her shit together. Funny how convincing the outside could be.
"Julian is going to lose his mind when he sees you," Aria said, resting her chin on my shoulder.
I smiled at her reflection. "That's the plan."
She grinned back and for a second I felt it — that warmth that comes from being exactly where you're supposed to be, with the people you're supposed to be with, heading toward the life you're supposed to have. I held onto that feeling because some part of me, some small quiet part that I couldn't explain and didn't want to examine too closely, had been feeling like something was slightly off for weeks.
Nothing I could point to tho .
Julian had been busy. That wasn't unusual — he was always busy. He was positioning himself to take a larger role in the Laurent Group, which meant meetings and dinners and calls that went late into the night. I understood that. I had worked for the Laurent Group. I knew what that world demanded.
But there were moments. Small ones. His phone buzzing and him flipping it over without looking at it. A dinner reservation for two on his credit card statement. Things that individually meant nothing but collectively formed a shape I refused to look at directly.
Because if I looked at it directly I would have to do something about it. And I didn't want to do something about it. I wanted to put on this dress and go to my engagement party and be happy with the man I loved. So that's what I did.
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The venue was stunning. Vivienne had chosen a rooftop space in Manhattan with a view of the skyline that made the city look like it was showing off just for us. Everything was white and gold — the flowers, the tablecloths, the champagne flutes lined up on trays carried by servers who moved like ghosts through the crowd. It was elegant without being cold. I had to give Vivienne that much. The woman had taste.
Julian was already there when Aria and I arrived. He was standing near the bar in a navy suit that fit him like it was stitched onto his body, talking to two men I didn't recognize. He saw me before I reached him. His eyes moved over me slowly, deliberately, and the smile that spread across his face was the kind that used to make my stomach flip. It still did, if I was being honest. Whatever doubts had been circling my mind like vultures dissolved the second he looked at me like that.
He crossed the room to meet me halfway. "You're trying to kill me," he said, low enough that only I could hear. His hand found my waist and he pulled me in, pressing his lips to my temple. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. He smelled like himself tonight. His cologne. His skin. No foreign scents. Just Julian.
"You clean up alright," I told him, straightening his tie even though it didn't need straightening. He caught my hand and kissed my knuckles.
"Just alright?"
"Don't fish for compliments. It's unattractive."
He laughed and the sound settled something in my chest that I hadn't realized was unsettled. See? Everything was fine. I was overthinking. I was always overthinking.
The party filled up quickly. Laurent family members I had met once or twice, Julian's friends from Columbia, business associates who shook my hand and told me how lucky Julian was. I smiled and thanked them and pretended I didn't notice the way some of them looked at me — that quick flicker of surprise that Julian Laurent was marrying a girl like me. A girl without a last name that opened doors. A girl whose mother was a single woman in Queens who worked two jobs to keep the lights on.
I wasn't ashamed of where I came from. But I wasn't naive about where I was standing either. This world had a velvet rope and I was on the other side of it only because Julian had pulled me through.
Dominic arrived late. I noticed because I always noticed when Dominic Laurent entered a room. Not because I was looking for him — I wasn't, not anymore but because the energy shifted. It was subtle. Like someone had turned down the music by one notch. People straightened up. Conversations got a little quieter. He had that effect.
He was in all black because of course he was. Suit, shirt, no tie. His height made him impossible to miss even if you wanted to and I did want to. I had spent the last several months actively wanting to miss him, ignore him, forget him. Ever since I left my position as his secretary, ever since I drafted that resignation letter and placed it on his desk and watched his jaw tighten as he read it — I had been trying to undo whatever connection existed between us.
It wasn't working.
He didn't come over to congratulate me. Didn't seek me out. Didn't even look in my direction as far as I could tell. He found a corner of the rooftop that allowed him to be present without being involved and stationed himself there with a glass of something dark. Whiskey probably. He drank whiskey when he didn't want to be somewhere.
I knew that because I knew him. I knew all of his tells, all of his small habits, all the things he thought he hid from the world. Two years of being the closest person to him had given me a map of who Dominic Laurent was underneath the cold exterior and I hated that I still carried it.
Aria appeared at my side with two champagne flutes and handed me one. "Uncle Dom looks thrilled to be here," she said dryly, following my gaze.
I took the champagne and looked away from him. "When does he ever look thrilled about anything?"
"Fair point." She clinked her glass against mine. "To you and my brother. May he always deserve you and may I always be your favorite Laurent."
I laughed. "You're already my favorite Laurent."
"I know. I just like hearing it."
We drank and I let the champagne soften the edges of the night. Everything was fine. The party was beautiful. Julian was attentive, checking on me every few minutes, introducing me to people, keeping his hand on the small of my back like he was afraid I'd drift away if he let go. It was everything an engagement party should be.
Then Camille arrived.
I didn't notice her at first. She came in quietly, She was wearing a simple black dress that hugged her frame in all the right places and her hair was down, falling past her shoulders in soft waves. She looked beautiful in a way that didn't demand attention but received it anyway.
I waved her over with a smile. We had only known each other for about two months but the friendship had developed quickly. She was easy to talk to, funny, a little guarded but that just made me want to know her more. She reminded me of myself in some ways — a woman navigating spaces that weren't originally built for her. Or at least that's what I thought.
"You made it!" I pulled her into a hug.
"Of course I did. I wouldn't miss this." She held me at arm's length and looked me over. "You look stunning, Sienna. Seriously."
"Thank you. Come, let me introduce you to everyone."
I turned to find Julian so I could introduce them and that's when I saw it.
He was already looking at Camille. Not at me. At her. And the expression on his face wasn't the polite curiosity of a man seeing his fiancée's friend for the first time. It was something else entirely. Something that flashed across his features so fast that if I had blinked I would have missed it.
But I didn't blink.
It was panic.
He recovered almost immediately. The charming smile slid back into place like a mask being adjusted and he walked over to us with his hands in his pockets, relaxed, easy, every inch the Julian that everyone in this room expected him to be.
"And who's this?" he asked, extending his hand to Camille.
"This is Camille. My friend I've been telling you about," I said.
"Nice to meet you, Camille." His voice was steady. His handshake was brief. He didn't hold her gaze too long. Everything about the interaction was perfect.
Camille smiled warmly. "Congratulations to both of you. Sienna is an incredible woman."
"She is," Julian agreed, sliding his arm around my waist.
And that should have been it. A normal introduction at a normal party. But my body knew something my mind hadn't caught up to yet because my stomach had dropped and it wasn't coming back up.
The night continued and I kept watching without meaning to. Julian excused himself more than usual. Bathroom. Phone call. Need to say hello to someone.
Camille stayed near me most of the evening, which made it worse somehow. She was attentive and sweet and complimented Aria's dress and asked Vivienne about the flowers and did everything a good friend would do at your engagement party. Nothing was wrong.
Around eleven, Julian disappeared again. I scanned the rooftop and couldn't find him. I checked the bar. The lounge area. The clusters of guests still drinking and laughing under string lights. He wasn't anywhere.
"Have you seen Julian?" I asked Aria.
She looked around lazily. "Probably on the phone. You know how he is. Want me to find him?"
"No. I'll go."
I set my champagne down and walked toward the inside of the venue where the restrooms and a long corridor led to a private balcony on the far side of the building. My heels clicked against the marble floor and with each step the noise of the party faded behind me, replaced by the kind of quiet that felt intentional.
I heard them before I saw them.
Julian's voice, low and hard. Not the voice he used with me. Not the voice he used with anyone at that party. A voice I had never heard before.
I slowed down But my feet kept moving because some part of me already knew. Had known for weeks. Maybe longer.
I turned the corner.
Julian had Camille pressed against the wall. His hand was gripping her arm and his face was inches from hers. He was saying something I couldn't make out, his jaw tight, his body tense with a kind of anger that didn't belong at an engagement party.
And then Camille did something that made my heart stop.
She saw me. Over Julian's shoulder, her eyes met mine for half a second. And in that half second everything about her shifted. Her free hand came up to Julian's face and she pulled him into a kiss.
Julian jerked back immediately. Grabbed her wrist and pushed it down. His face twisted with anger and he opened his mouth to say something — probably to curse her out, probably to tell her she was crazy, probably something that would have given me a reason to blame her and not him.
But Camille's eyes filled with tears on command. Her bottom lip trembled. And she whispered something that made Julian's entire body soften.
I watched it happen in real time. The anger draining from his face. His grip loosening on her wrist. His hand moving from restraint to comfort, his thumb brushing across her knuckles in a gesture so familiar that it couldn't have been the first time.
He pulled her into his chest. His hand cradled the back of her head and he pressed his lips to her forehead and murmured, "It's okay, baby. I know. I'm sorry."
Baby.
I'm sorry.