"I don't know why Hubert and I were set up, but nothing happened between us! Nothing!"
Sebastian's laugh was ice.
"Joy. Do you really think I'd believe you?"
I looked up at him, tears streaming.
"If you don't believe me—then why go through with the wedding? Why marry me at all?"
Sebastian's hand clamped down on the back of my neck, his grip bruising. Every trace of love had vanished from his eyes.
"Revenge, of course." His voice was ice. "You like being ridden, don't you? Then I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life as a living widow."
"Joy." He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "I want your remaining years to hurt a hundred—no, a thousand times more than what I'm feeling right now."
The next day, he boarded a flight to the Maldives with Narelle.
Our honeymoon. Our destination.
Sebastian had always hated being photographed. But for her, he hired a professional travel photographer. Hundreds of couple shots—him gazing at her on white sand beaches, her draped against him at sunset—all uploaded to her social media for the world to see.
By then, my scandal had spread across Capital City like wildfire.