1 Sienna had been back in New York for less than twenty-four hours, and she was already drowning her sorrows in expensive bourbon over her “one that got away.” “Three years, Jo,” she slurred, her voice thick with a calculated kind of misery. “Three years and I still can’t scrub him out of my system.” She swirled the amber liquid in her glass, her eyes glistening. “But he’s getting married next week. Tell me—should I go get him? Should I just take him back?” The question was directed at me, but her gaze didn’t stay on my face. It drifted, heavy and lingering, to the man sitting right beside me. Ethan didn’t say a word. He just kept rotating his glass on the marble tabletop, his expression a mask of cool indifference. But beneath the table, I saw his hand. He was gripping his knee so hard his knuckles were white, the tendons in his forearm taut like a bowstring. I opened my mouth to offer the comfort I had practiced for years, but then, the world glitched. Transparent lines of text began to drift across my vision, flickering like digital ghosts. [Look at this idiot. Still trying to comfort her. Doesn’t she see her boyfriend is looking at the lead girl like he wants to devour her?] [Ethan only stayed with Jo for three years to bide his time. Now that the ‘Real Deal’ is back, who wants a placeholder?] [One last drink, then the First Love takes her throne. Time for the Tool Girl to exit stage left.] I froze. My heart stuttered against my ribs. I looked at Sienna. She was waiting for my answer, her eyes wide and expectant, performing the role of the tragic heroine perfectly. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just felt a strange, cold clarity wash over me. I smiled. “You don’t have to fight for him, Sienna,” I said. The words hung in the air, sharp and unexpected. Both of them snapped their heads toward me. A flicker of annoyance crossed Sienna’s face before she could hide it. “Joanna, what is that supposed to mean? We’ve been best friends since college. Don’t you want me to be happy?” When I didn’t answer immediately, she turned away from me. Using the alcohol as a shield for her boldness, she reached out and grabbed Ethan’s silk tie, yanking him forward. The space between them vanished. They were inches apart, breathing the same air. “She won’t say it, so you tell me,” Sienna whispered, her voice a low, dangerous purr. “Should I take him back, Ethan? Tell me.” She lingered on his name, making it sound like a secret they shared. The text on my vision began to scroll frantically. [Kiss her! They’ve wasted so many years. Do it!] [God, the chemistry is insane. This is true love.] [Why is the side-character still in the room? Doesn’t she realize Ethan only dated her to keep tabs on Sienna’s life through her Instagram?] I watched Ethan’s throat move as he swallowed. He was vibrating with a restrained intensity I had never seen before. I remembered all the times we’d been apart over the last three years—how my phone would notify me that he’d visited my social media profile dozens of times a day. I used to think he was just obsessed with me, that he couldn’t stand being away from me. Now I realized he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the background of my photos, the stories where Sienna appeared, the updates I posted about her life in London. He wasn’t my stalker. He was hers. Sienna tightened her grip on his tie, pulling him closer until their lips were almost touching. Finally, Ethan pulled back, his hands trembling as he pushed her away. “You’ve had too much to drink,” he muttered, though his voice lacked any real conviction. Sienna wouldn’t let it go. “I’m not drunk! Why is everyone else allowed to be happy? Why does he get a wedding while I’m left with nothing? I just want what belongs to me. Is that a crime?” She looked at us both, demanding an answer. “I need to know. Right now.” Ethan’s jaw was set tight. He stayed silent. I knew Ethan had a past he couldn’t let go of. I knew there was a woman he had once been willing to destroy his life for—the woman who drove him to admit he was the illegitimate son of the Blackwell empire just to gain the status she demanded. But he had never told me her name. He had never told me she was my best friend. I looked at my glass, then downed the rest of the bourbon in one go. The burn felt good. It felt honest. “Like I said, Sienna,” I repeated, my voice steady. “You don’t need to fight. She’s going to give him back to you.” Ethan stiffened, looking at me with a bewildered frown. But his instincts were already betrayed; even as he looked at me, he was reaching out to steady Sienna as she stumbled. Sienna wiped a stray tear from her eye, a triumphant light dancing in her gaze. She threw her arms around me. “Are you serious? No take-backs, Jo. Promise?” I nodded slowly. Before I could say the words I promise, Ethan cut in. He stood up, wrapping his charcoal blazer around Sienna’s shoulders, shielding her as if she were something fragile and precious. “She’s drunk and doesn’t know what she’s saying, Joanna. Stop humoring her.” He avoided my eyes. “We’re done here. I have to head back to the office anyway. I’ll drop her off on the way.” He tucked Sienna into the passenger seat of his car with a tenderness he usually reserved for our anniversaries. Then he turned back to me, standing under the dim streetlights of the Meatpacking District. “Don’t overthink this,” he said. “I’m only helping her because she’s your friend.” He stood there, likely waiting for me to cause a scene, to get jealous, to demand he stay. But I just looked at him and realized he didn’t even know where Sienna lived. I had never told him her new address. And yet, he knew it was “on the way.” The lie was so hollow it echoed. I smiled, and for the first time in years, it felt effortless. “It’s okay, Ethan. You’re free to do whatever you want.” At 2:00 AM, I finally caught a cab back to our Upper East Side apartment. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Sienna. Jo, thank you for tonight. For the encouragement. We’re going to try again. He told me he never forgot me—he was just hurt that I left when he had nothing. Now that he’s built his kingdom, the misunderstanding is over. We’re home. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the taxi window and typed back a single word: Congratulations. Whatever happened between them was no longer my burden to carry. When I got home, the penthouse felt cavernous and cold. I curled up on the sofa and began scrolling through my old posts. I had a secondary account dedicated to “Bestie Adventures.” It was a digital diary of my life with Sienna. Before she left for London, she had cried in my arms. “He’s beautiful, Jo, but he’s a nobody. He literally knelt in the dirt and begged me to stay this morning. I know he loves me, but love doesn’t pay for a life in Mayfair.” She hadn’t known then that the “nobody” was about to inherit one of the largest private equity firms in the country. During her years away, we FaceTimed constantly. I shared everything with her, and I posted it all. That was how Ethan found me. Every post featuring Sienna had a “like” from him. Every video where her voice could be heard in the background was a video he watched on repeat. I had thought he fell for me during those two months of online flirting before we met in person. I thought we were a modern romance. The reality was, I was just a high-definition window into the life of the woman he actually wanted. My phone chimed again. A text from Ethan. I won’t be home tonight. Don’t wait up. It was the first time in three years he hadn’t come home. The Glitch flickered in the corner of the room: [The King and Queen are finally reunited.] [Is the side-character going to cry? Is she going to call him and beg?] [Don’t ruin the mood, honey. They’re busy making up for lost time.] I ignored the text, tossed my phone onto the rug, and fell into a dreamless sleep. I was woken the next morning by Sienna’s voice over the phone. She sounded radiant. “Hey, babe! Dinner tonight? Our treat. We want to celebrate your upcoming wedding properly. Please say you’ll come!” I hesitated for two seconds, then agreed. I wanted to see the end of the play. They were already at the restaurant when I arrived—a dimly lit, Michelin-starred place in Midtown. Sienna was leaning her head naturally on Ethan’s shoulder, a picture of domestic bliss. “If Joanna finds out about us, she’ll be devastated,” I heard her whisper as I approached. Ethan tilted his head, his expression obscured. “Stop. She can’t know. Not yet.” His voice was firm—the same voice he used when he knelt on the beach in the Hamptons six months ago and slid a four-carat diamond onto my finger. “Don’t ever take it off,” he had whispered. “You’re mine for life.” Six months later, the “life” he promised was a theatrical prop. I took a deep breath, smoothed my skirt, and walked to the table. Sienna sat up straight immediately. “Oh, Jo! I was just feeling a little lightheaded—low blood sugar. I borrowed your fiancé’s shoulder for a second. You don’t mind, right?” She nudged Ethan. “Go sit by Joanna, honey.” Before he could move, I pulled out the chair opposite them. “No need. I need the extra chair for my bag.” Sienna shrugged and raised her mocktail. “To Jo. To the wedding of the year.” She finished her drink, then looked at me with faux-hesitation. “Actually, Jo… I have a huge favor to ask. My mom is obsessed with me getting married now that I’m back. She’s trying to set me up on these blind dates with boring hedge-fund guys. I told her I already have a boyfriend.” She glanced at Ethan. “But I don’t know anyone here anymore. I was wondering… could Ethan play the part? Just for one weekend to get my mom off my back? He already said he’s okay with it if you are.” The Glitch screamed across the table: [Poor Sienna, she has to lie just to spend time with her man.] [Watch the villainess say no. She’s so predictable.] I chewed a piece of chilled shrimp, ignoring Ethan’s dark, unreadable stare. “Sure,” I said. “Just make sure the performance is convincing.” Sienna’s face lit up. “I knew you were the best! Don’t worry, I’ll keep a close eye on him for you.” The rest of the dinner was a silent war. Ethan was brooding, his face like a thundercloud. I didn’t understand why he was angry—wasn’t he getting exactly what he wanted? When the check came, the server handed Ethan a small gift bag. “Sir, we’re having a promotion for couples. Leave a review and take a gift. Your wife will love it.” He looked at Sienna. She looked at the bag. “Oh, I want the silk scarf!” Ethan scanned the QR code and handed the gift to her without a word of correction. No one told the server she wasn’t his wife. No one pointed at me. Back at the apartment, Ethan slammed the door and pinned me against the hallway wall. His energy was aggressive, almost predatory. “Since when did my wife become so generous?” he hissed. “You’re just giving me away now?” I pushed him back, hard. “You agreed to it first. Don’t play the martyr with me.” He stood in the foyer, silenced. After a moment, he let out a sharp, cynical laugh. “I told her I’d go only if you said yes. I thought you’d fight for me, Joanna. I thought you’d say no.” He stepped closer, trying to soften his gaze. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll play the boyfriend for a few days, but we’re the ones getting married. I have the rest of our lives to make you care again.” I listened to his practiced lines and felt nothing. He was a good actor; he’d had three years of rehearsal. I reached into my pocket, pulled off the engagement ring, and set it on the hallway table. “Whether you want to go or not is on your conscience, Ethan. Don’t pin your choices on me.” I looked at the diamond. “This belongs to you.” Ethan’s face went white. “What is this? Joanna, she’s your best friend. Stop being dramatic.” Before he could continue, his phone rang. It was the custom ringtone he had for Sienna. My phone had the same one. He looked at the screen, then back at me, his resolve shifting. “Jo, I have to go. Something came up. And… Sienna’s parents live a few hours away. I might be gone until the day before the wedding. But I’ll be back in time for the rehearsal, I promise.” I nodded. “Go.” The Glitch mocked me: [She’s still dreaming about the wedding. Poor girl.] [Wait until the ceremony. Sienna is going to object in front of everyone. It’s going to be iconic.] [Why is she just standing there? Run, girl, run!] A second later, my phone rang. Sienna. “Jo… you know, don’t you? You know Ethan and I were together before.” Her voice was trembling, staged with tears. “I shouldn’t have asked to borrow him. But I can’t help it. I never stopped loving him, and he still feels it too. Being with someone who doesn’t love you… it’s a slow death, Jo. Can’t you just let us be happy?” I waited for the silence to stretch. “Okay,” I said quietly. “I’ll let you go.” Sienna gasped. “You… you mean it?” “I mean it.” But we weren’t friends anymore. And I wasn’t his anymore. I spent the next forty-eight hours purging my life. Every couple’s pajama set, every “His & Hers” mug, every framed photo of us laughing at fundraisers—it all went into heavy-duty trash bags. I left the jewelry he bought me in neat rows on the vanity. When I was done, everything I owned fit into two suitcases. While I packed, Sienna kept the “Three-Way Group Chat” updated. Photos of the train tickets, photos of them at her parents’ country house, a selfie of Ethan smiling—actually smiling—next to her father. Her Instagram caption read: “Bringing the boyfriend home. Mom and Dad approved. My heart is full.” I liked the photo. Ethan immediately texted me: “Jo, the photo was Sienna’s idea. Her parents insisted. I couldn’t say no without looking like a jerk. I’m bringing you back some of that local honey you like, okay?” “Whatever,” I replied, and turned off my phone. They returned to the city at midnight, the day before the wedding. Ethan came into the bedroom and tried to pull me into his arms. He smelled like the outdoors and Sienna’s perfume. “God, Joanna, your friend is high-maintenance. I am never doing that again.” He kissed my forehead. “I missed you so much. I had to see you, even if the tradition says we shouldn’t meet the night before.” I stepped out of his reach. He just laughed, thinking I was still pouting. “Are you still mad about the fake boyfriend thing? She’s actually being really helpful, Jo. She wrote a speech for the ceremony—it’s beautiful. I’m going to memorize it tonight.” The Glitch appeared over his shoulder: [He’s so sweet, trying to calm the victim before the slaughter.] [Tomorrow is going to be a bloodbath. I have my popcorn ready.] [The bride is going to be so humiliated.] “Then I wish you both a very happy wedding day,” I whispered. He didn’t hear the “both.” He just smiled. “What was that?” His phone rang. Sienna. Again. “Ethan! I’m at the bar we went to the first night… I think I’ve had too much. I can’t get a cab. Please…” Ethan straightened up, his eyes full of instant panic. “Stay put, Sienna. I’m coming.” He turned to me, his face full of “guilt.” “Jo, she’s in trouble. I’ll just drop her home and then go straight to the hotel for the groomsmen’s breakfast. I’ll see you at the altar.” He kissed me quickly and vanished. You won’t see me anywhere, I thought. I left the ring on the table. He was so blinded by his “rescue mission” that he didn’t even notice the apartment was half-empty. He didn’t notice the bare walls. He didn’t notice I wasn’t wearing my engagement ring. The wedding day arrived. The Pierre Hotel was decked out in thousands of white peonies. Every power player in Manhattan was there. That morning, Ethan sent one last text: “Joanna, I’m finally making you a Blackwell.” The ceremony began. Ethan stood at the altar in a custom tuxedo, his eyes fixed on the heavy oak doors at the back of the ballroom. He looked nervous, his eyes darting around. He felt something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The doors swung open. The guests held their breath. A woman in a three-meter silk tulle veil, dripping in diamonds—a dress Ethan had personally commissioned—began the long walk down the aisle. The spotlight hit her face as she reached the altar. Ethan’s heart stopped. “What the hell are you doing?”
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