Chapter 5: The Truth Comes Out

She looked me up and down, as if I were a stranger.

Her eyes flicked over my outfit, lingering just a second too long on my thrifted heels.

The bride pouted, "Don’t be ridiculous—she’s my friend."

Lillian’s voice was a balm, but I could feel the tension radiating between us.

Natalie gently removed her hand from mine.

She let it slide away with practiced grace, but her jaw was clenched tight.

"Careful with your bracelet. Didn’t I give you that one? It cost over $30,000—be careful, some people might covet it."

She was clearly hinting at me.

Her words hung in the air like cigarette smoke. Lillian looked puzzled; I pretended not to hear.

Thirty thousand dollars.

The number echoed in my head. I tried not to let my face show anything, but my hand instinctively covered my own wrist.

So Natalie Porter could buy such expensive gifts for her girlfriend after all.

I touched my own wrist.

Once, there had been a bracelet there too, a gift from Natalie—twenty bucks.

It was a woven cord, cheap and cheerful, with a tiny silver charm. She’d handed it to me on our first anniversary, eyes bright with pride.

Back in our poorest days, she’d told me she bought it with money earned as a costumed mascot.

She described the heat, the sweat, the heavy costume. I’d kissed her on the forehead, whispering how proud I was. Turns out, it was just another story.

On a summer day over ninety degrees, she’d come home drenched in sweat. I didn’t know she’d actually just come from the gym. I’d felt both touched and sorry for her.

Looking back, I can’t believe how easily I was fooled by her stories.

I used to stay up late painting, using my commission fees to buy her a $75 watch for her birthday.

I remember saving every extra tip, just to make her smile on her birthday. She wore it for a week, then it disappeared.

Now, the watch on her wrist had long since been replaced by a Patek Philippe.

A watch worth more than my car. She wore it like it was nothing.

This was the real her.

Rich. Confident. Calculated. I was just a chapter she’d closed.

Turns out, feeling sorry for someone brings nothing but bad luck.

I sneered, "Lillian, you’re really blessed. Your wife is so generous. Unlike my ex—no parents, ate my food, lived in my apartment, and the bracelet she gave me was only twenty bucks."

The words were bitter, but I couldn’t help myself. It felt good to let the truth hang out for once.

Natalie’s face darkened.

A muscle jumped in her jaw, but she said nothing.

Lillian stood up for me, "Then she really was a jerk. Good thing you broke up."

Lillian reached for my hand, squeezing it in solidarity. For a second, I actually felt lighter.

Natalie cleared her throat.

"Maybe some people are only worth a twenty-dollar bracelet. Unlike my Lillian, who deserves to be spoiled, no matter how much it costs."

She said it with a sweet smile, but her eyes flashed with something sharp.

So, in her eyes, I was no longer worthy.

It was a gut punch, but I refused to flinch.

Looking at the hypocritical Natalie Porter, I couldn’t help but laugh.

I let the laugh ring out—sharp, a little unhinged. It startled Lillian, but it felt honest for once.

"You two are so loving, it’s enviable. I wish you a happy marriage and a long life together."

I found an excuse to leave.

Something about needing to check on a client call. I grabbed my clutch, head held high.

Natalie grew anxious.

She leaned forward, voice low. "Ms. Lee, in such a hurry to leave? Is this wedding not fancy enough for your taste?"

Her sarcasm was obvious.

It dripped off every syllable. I rolled my eyes, barely hiding my annoyance.

I curled my lips and replied with a single word—"Yes."

Short. Cold. Just enough to make my point.

My own wedding with Marcus Hill had been held on a small island he’d just bought, with only a few close friends and family.

We exchanged vows on the sand, barefoot, wind whipping through my hair. It was perfect for us—intimate, no drama, no audience.

Low-key, not lavish, but it was exactly what I wanted.

There were no peonies, no glittering chandeliers, just laughter and the steady crash of waves.

The wedding Natalie Porter prepared for another woman—I didn’t care for it in the slightest.

I felt nothing, except relief that I wasn’t the one at her side anymore.