Chapter 2

The marriage certificate slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.

My heart seized. The suffocation hit me all at once, from every direction.

He bent down and picked it up, pressed it back into my hand. His fingertips grazed the back of my hand — ice-cold, cutting.

"What's wrong? Having second thoughts?"

I couldn't speak.

He smiled. That smile was more unsettling than any tears.

"Too late, Sloane."

He said my name like it was nothing new. Like he'd been saying it his whole life.

"The moment you spoke that name, you tied yourself to me. For good."

I stood there, watching him disappear into the dark.

My phone buzzed. A Snapchat from Nicole: Congrats on the wedding, babe!!!

I replied: Do you know who he is?

She shot back instantly: Who?

I typed out the name: Marcus. Damon's uncle.

She went quiet.

Long enough that I thought her phone had crashed.

Then a voice note came through, her voice shaking: "Sloane… you are so screwed."

I didn't understand what she meant until the following afternoon.

Nicole called while I was standing in front of the fridge, zoning out. I'd spent my wedding night alone — Marcus never came home.

"Sloane, Mrs. Cross just called. The Cross family is having a dinner tonight, and she wants you there."

"Why would I go? I divorced Damon."

"Yeah, but — she also said to bring your new husband."

I closed the fridge door. Three seconds of silence.

"How does she know?"

"I have no idea!" Nicole sounded like she was about to cry. "But your ex-mother-in-law specifically said she wants to see Marcus. She said the whole Cross family is waiting…"

My stomach dropped.

The Cross family.

Marcus.

Uncle.

Those three things clicked together, and something cold exploded at the back of my skull.

I didn't dare tell Nicole what that name really meant. I just said "Got it" and hung up.

There was a black dress hanging in my closet. I put it on, stood in front of the mirror, and painted my lips red. Like walking to my own execution — at least I'd go out looking good.

Marcus came to pick me up that evening.

He'd changed into a dark charcoal suit, silver cufflinks catching the light as we passed under a streetlamp. The moment he saw me, his eyes moved over me — face to ankles — slow and deliberate. He didn't say anything, but the corner of his mouth shifted.

"Get in."

The ride was deadly quiet. I stared out the window at the streetlights blurring past, my palms slick with sweat.

He broke the silence. "Nervous?"

"No."

"Then why are you shaking?"

I looked down at my hands. They were. I curled them into fists and said nothing.

The car stopped in front of the Cross family estate. I knew those large red front doors too well. Two years of marriage to Damon, and every visit here was its own kind of torment. Mrs. Cross's sharp, dissecting gaze. Damon's barely-concealed impatience. The relatives with their passive-aggressive digs.

I thought the divorce meant I'd never have to come back.

And yet here I was — in a new dress, on a new husband's arm.

The whole thing was so fucking absurd.

Marcus held out his arm for me to take.

"Once we're inside, don't say a word. Stay close."

I was just reaching for his arm when the doors swung open.

Damon stood in the doorway.

Black shirt, collar unbuttoned, a glass of red wine in hand. His expression said he'd just found an uninvited guest in his own living room.

But the moment his eyes landed on Marcus, his pupils shrank.

"Uncle."

He said it through clenched teeth.

Marcus didn't even glance at him. He walked straight past, taking me with him.

The entire Cross family was there.

A dozen people filled the living room. Cross Sr. sat at the head of the room, turning a pocket watch over in his hands. He narrowed his eyes the moment he saw me. Mrs. Cross sat beside him, her smile so stiff it looked painted on.

"Sloane, you made it. Come sit down."

I had barely taken my seat when someone laughed.

"Never thought our Sloane would get divorced and end up marrying Marcus."

"Hey, don't — she's his wife now. That makes her our aunt."

The whole room laughed.

Knives behind every smile.

I was about to say something when Marcus spoke first.

"I don't need anyone's approval for who I choose to marry."