Chapter 1

At our engagement party, my fiancé was suddenly replaced by five strange men.

"Maureen Summers, aren't you face-blind? If you can pick me out from among them, the wedding goes ahead as planned."

"But if you get it wrong, we call off the engagement. I don't want a future wife who can only recognize me by my scent."

I listened to the recording playing in my earpiece, tears welling up and refusing to fall.

Because not one of those five men was Zachery Stephens.

I was about to make some excuse and slip away when the earpiece kept playing.

"Zach, if your bride finds out you ditched her on purpose just to go register your marriage with Lucretia Fox, won't she—"

Zachery cut him off, impatient.

"Lucretia's cancer is already terminal. Marrying me is the one thing she's wanted most in her whole life. How could I not give her that?"

"As for Maureen, she's spent ten years fawning over me. She's not going to break it off over something this small."

The bouquet slipped from my hands and hit the floor.

So from the very start, Zachery had never intended to marry me.

Fine. Then I'd let them have exactly what they wanted.

I raised my hand and pointed at one of the men.

"Excuse me. Will you marry me?"

...

The guests erupted.

The man froze, then let out a low laugh, and the other four scattered at once.

"Miss Summers, I'm not Zachery."

I dropped my eyes, nails digging deep into my palm.

"I know..."

"But could you keep playing along with me? I'll pay you for it."

"And afterward, if you want a divorce, I'll agree to it..."

The man pulled out a ring and, with great deliberation, slid it onto my ring finger.

"Of course."

He paused.

"But the payment—I'll be the one who decides that."

Something familiar drifted off him, and yet I couldn't for the life of me place it.

"The wedding, then. Seven days from now. I'll come for you."

I started, but nodded anyway.

The sooner this act was over, the better.

By the time I'd finished dealing with the guests, night had fallen.

I got home to nothing but dead silence.

Zachery still wasn't back.

I sighed, rubbed my aching legs, and sank limp into the couch.

I decided I should at least tell Zachery.

Seven days from now, I was getting married too.

I opened my phone. Zachery hadn't answered a single message.

I hesitated a moment, then tapped into his feed.

A slash of glaring red jumped into my sight.

【Not many days left now. At least in the end I get to stand beside him as his wife. I suppose that means no regrets.】

In the photo of the marriage certificate, Zachery was smiling so gently, but the corners of his eyes were red, as if he'd just been crying.

The screen in my hand went dark, then lit, then dark again.

As much as I didn't want to believe it, the person who'd posted this was Lucretia—the one whose family had gone bankrupt three years ago and fled abroad.

And also my best friend.

A quick, urgent knock came at the door.

I yanked out a tissue, wiped my tears dry, and forced my sore, weak body up to answer it.

Zachery stood there, water dripping from his hair, someone held tight and shielded in his arms.

"Maureen, there's some luggage in the car. Go help me bring it in!"

Before I could get a word out, he'd already carried the person upstairs.

By the time I hauled the last big case inside, I was soaked through and shivering with cold.

"Maurie, thank you for carrying everything up. That was really so much trouble for you."

My head snapped up, and a wave of sweet, cloying women's perfume hit me full in the face.

Lucretia's face was ghostly pale, yet she was dressed exquisitely, not a single strand of her hair wet.

She held out a cup of steaming ginger tea to me.

"Drink up. Careful you don't catch a cold."

Zachery frowned and quickly helped Lucretia settle onto the couch.

"Don't waste your energy on her. A little rain won't kill her. Sit down, I'll make you some porridge in a bit."

My hand around the ginger tea jerked, and a few scalding drops spilled onto the back of my hand, leaving a small patch of skin red.

Did it take being on the verge of death to earn his concern? Or was I simply not worth it?

"Maureen, there's something I have to tell you."

Zachery held her so carefully, as if Lucretia might shatter in his arms the very next second.

"Lucretia... her cancer is already terminal."

"For the time she has left, let's take good care of her."

I stood there holding that cup of ginger tea, frozen, like someone had hit pause on me.

"When... when did you get sick?"

Only after the words left me did I realize my voice had already gone hoarse beyond recognition.

Lucretia coughed lightly a few times.

"Just this month. Only found out a little while ago."

"I hadn't planned on telling you. I didn't want to spoil your engagement party."

"But I was in so much pain, and I don't have a single friend I can lean on, so I called Zachery. I never expected him to rush right over. Maurie, you're not upset, are you?"

I looked at Lucretia leaning weakly into Zachery's arms, and all at once it felt so unreal.

The year I was sixteen, once Lucretia found out I liked Zachery, she'd kept encouraging me to go after him—helped me lose weight, taught me to do my makeup, schemed up ways for me to "accidentally" run into him.

And now, in less than a single day, she'd gone and registered her marriage with Zachery, leaving me alone at my own engagement party for everyone to laugh at.

Zachery let out a cold snort.

"Upset? What right does she have to be upset?"

"A woman who can't even recognize her own fiancé—she gets to be upset?"

The engagement party from that afternoon flashed through my mind, and my fingertips went white where they clenched.

"So you two just went and registered your marriage?"