1 Prologue—Isabella

"We need to talk."

Nothing good ever started with those four words, especially not from a groom to his bride while walking down the aisle. It took all the strength in me to not lose my smile under my nearly opaque veil. For the first time ever since I tried it on, I appreciated its ability to conceal almost everything behind it. If I was getting stood up on the aisle, at least it would hide my embarrassment.

"What happened?" I asked in the softest whisper I could manage, trying not to attract the attention of the thousands of guests in the cathedral and probably hundreds of thousands watching us on live media coverage.

Max, my fiancé, leaned closer to hug me, but I knew it was all so he could tell me what had gone wrong. "The cake came out yellow." He whispered, and I nearly laughed out loud.

The cake? That was all that had him this worked up? To be fair, our wedding was a huge deal, dabbed as the wedding of the century by innumerable tabloids. Being the daughter of a tycoon had its own downsides, this being the biggest of all. I didn't want a mega wedding to marry the love of my life. A cake color gone wrong was the least of my concerns.

"Who cares? Let's just enjoy our day. Besides, they will have something to talk about." I kissed his cheek, relief finally settling in the pit of my stomach.

The rest of the walk down the aisle was bliss with Max holding my hand like it was the most precious jewel in the world. Even with the veil out of my face, I could only see him through my watery eyes. This was really happening.

"We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the marriage of Isabella Claire Cartier and Mark Robinson." The words rolled off the priest's tongue cooly as though he couldn't wait to be done. The feeling was mutual. I wanted nothing more than for the wedding to be over and to figure out the rest of my life as Mrs. Robinson. Feeling his tightening hand around mine, I knew the feeling was mutual.

I blanked out through the routine recitals and smiled when I finally heard the question I'd been waiting for all year: "do you take Max Robinson as your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"Yes." My voice nearly broke as I tilted my head and looked at him. "I do."

He smiled back at me as the audience applauded, and when the cathedral quietened down, he got asked the same question, only for him to hesitate.

My heart lurched in my throat. Was he having cold feet? Besides, why was it my first instinct to assume he had changed his mind every time something didn't go as usual?

"Max?" I whispered his name and he finally snapped out of whatever trance had his mind occupied.

"Sorry, my wife-to-be is so beautiful that I was lost in her eyes." He smiled before answering, "Yes, I do."

An inexplicable feeling washed over me as I fell head-first into the trap I didn't know had been woven for me.

______

"Congratulations honey!" My mother was over the moon when she finally had the chance to speak to me. "Did I say you look lovely?"

"Only ten dozen times before the wedding." I hugged her with a chuckle and pulled away before we became an emotional mess yet again.

"I have to interact with the guests. There must be ten million of them, thanks, mom."

She laughed at my complaint. "Don't be such a party pooper. The more the merrier, right?" Understanding my distaste for large crowds and the fact that I'd had to live my entire life in front of cameras, she held my shoulders. "This is probably the last time you have to deal with such large numbers."

"I'll suck it up, but only for you and dad." I groaned and entered the grand, lavishly decorated dungeon, also known as the reception hall. The only good thing about it was my husband in his perfectly fitting tux, ready to give his speech on the stage.

"You're a sight for sore eyes." I mouthed when he looked at me. And he was cheesy—but it always sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach despite having known each other for ages.

"I would like to thank you all for attending this special occasion." The words rolled off his tongue as smoothly as ever. He was a natural charmer—or I was so deeply in love that I would be charmed no matter what he said. And when he finally got off the stage, with everyone clapping, and asked me for a dance, I didn't hesitate to place my palm delicately in his.

"I can't wait for all this to be over so I have you all to myself." He whispered in my ear and I couldn't agree more.

"Let's find somewhere to escape all this," I suggested. "One waltz and we can bolt away."

He nodded in agreement and held my waist. We waltzed a circle and mischievously slipped out of the hall to the garden behind the hotel. It was more beautiful under the moonlight and the relief we felt to be away from the bustle was unanimous. We stopped at the bridge underneath which a river flowed, reflecting the starry night sky in its charm.

"What kind of couple runs away from their own reception?" I joked and jabbed him in the side.

"The kind who wanted a small wedding, but who were forced into this extravagant affair." He rested his arms against the railing of the bridge.

"All that matters is what we feel, right?" I brushed it off. My life was perfect if I dared to say so myself. I had the childhood everyone envied, loving parents and the most excellent man I could ever wish for as my fiancé. But you know what they say about good things.

"Actually, Isa, I have something to tell you. I was not being completely honest earlier."

And that proved my point. All good things did come to an end.