L
marriage
I was the quintessential Upper East Side
princess, engaged to the reckless heir of the
Thornton empire, Julian. I twisted myself into
a pretzel to fit into his world. He loved
racing? I learned to drive like a demon. He
loved to drink, so I learned to blow the bottle..
Julian caused trouble? I cleaned it up. He
raged? I soothed with a smile. I became the
model fiancée. Everyone thought I was head
over heels for him.
Julian thought so too. Until the night of his
welcome–home party for his childhood
sweetheart. I gently peeled his fingers from
my wrist and said, “Let’s end the
engagement, Julian.”
That night, they said Julian lost it.
く
- 1.
Julian’s birthday present arrived – a men’s
watch, hand–delivered by the brand manager
herself. The silver–gray face and matching
hands echoed the cool tones of his favorite
sports car. He’d mentioned the watch
offhandedly ages ago, but getting it had cost
me considerable time and effort.
The manager caught my gaze lingering on the
watch. “Chelsea, you’re so wonderful to
Julian. You’re the most devoted fiancée I’ve
ever seen.”
She wasn’t wrong. Everyone thought so. No
one expected a Thornton daughter to fall for
Julian, Manhattan’s most notorious bad boy. I
traded my cello for a steering wheel and a
く
traded my cello for a steering wheel and a
bottle of whiskey for my usual sparkling
water.
It was hard to imagine someone as quiet and
composed as me becoming so…obsessed.
My devotion to Julian was legendary. Even his
posse of entitled friends respectfully called
me “Mrs. T–to–be.” The gossip blogs called
me the “genuine rose” among a sea of
transactional marriages.
“Chelsea,” the manager gushed, “it seems the
rumors are true. Wedding bells soon?”
I tore my eyes away from the watch and gave
a shy smile, just like any girl anticipating her
big day. “I hope so.”
But turning away, I caught my reflection in the
