Gilded Days Cannot Bring Back Old Shadows

“Ms. Sanders, what are you doing? Your engagement party with Mr. Foster is about to start. The guests are all waiting!”

I pushed the makeup artist's hand away, staring at my paper-pale reflection in the mirror as a wave of nausea washed over me. She was still babbling, “Look at this wedding dress, Ms. Sanders. It's so beautiful. Mr. Foster had it custom-made in Paris—”

“Throw it away,” I interrupted her, standing up and picking up my suitcase.

“What?”

I turned around just in time to see Julian Foster push open the door and walk in.