Chapter 13
He looked at me like he finally understood, in one single devastating rush, that there had once been another man standing at the edge of my life the whole time. A man who had loved me with patience instead of possession. A man I could have chosen. A man I had chosen now.
Cole turned to me, voice hoarse. “Ava. Don’t do this.”
I held his gaze.
“For three years,” I said quietly, “I begged for scraps from a man who had already given his heart somewhere else. Now I have someone who looked at the ruins you left and still thought I was worth loving. Why would I ever go back?”
He had no answer for that.
A month later, he showed up at the wedding.
Of course he did.
Halfway through the ceremony, just as Ethan was reaching for the ring, the doors opened and Cole walked in.
There was a murmur through the guests.
He was in a dark suit, tie crooked, eyes bloodshot, looking less like an officer and more like a man who hadn’t slept in weeks.
“Stop the wedding,” he said.
The music cut.
My father rose halfway from his seat. Ethan’s groomsmen moved immediately. Security took one step forward. But Cole lifted a hand.
“I just want the truth,” he said.
My stomach didn’t even drop. I was beyond surprise with him.
He pointed at me. “She’s lying to all of you.”
The room went silent.
Cole laughed, wild and ugly. “You all think she’s some flawless beauty? Some perfect bride? It’s makeup. It’s all makeup. That’s not what she really looks like.”
A shocked murmur rippled through the room.
He turned to Ethan’s parents, voice rising. “Ask her to wipe it off. Ask her to take off the makeup right now. Then you’ll see what kind of fraud you’re welcoming into your family.”
Ethan moved toward him, but I touched his arm.
“It’s fine,” I said.
Cole looked at me with vicious triumph. “What’s wrong? Don’t dare?”
I bent, picked up the bottle of makeup remover sitting on the bridal prep table near the stage entrance, and held it up.
The guests watched in complete silence.
Cole’s smile widened. “That’s right. Let everyone see.”
I poured the remover onto a cotton pad and wiped once down my cheek.
Then again.
Then, just to make my point, I unscrewed a bottle of water and poured it straight over my face.
A collective gasp ran through the room.
Nothing disappeared.
If anything, stripped of powder and finishing spray, my skin looked even clearer. My features softer and brighter in the warm ceremony lights. No harsh contour. No dramatic illusion. Just my face.
My real face.
Cole’s smile vanished.
“No,” he said.
I wiped the water from my chin and looked at him.
“No?” I echoed.