Chapter Two

Allison’s POV

The flashes wouldn’t stop.

Bright. Blinding. Ruthless.

Dozens of cameras snapped in rapid succession as I stood there, stunned and hollow. Frozen in place while the press captured every angle of my downfall — the heartbreak, the confusion, the humiliation.

I should’ve turned away. Covered my face. Walked out with whatever dignity I had left.

But I couldn’t move.

I was too busy breaking.

Jayden had just called me his side chick.

And the world had heard it.

“She’s just a jealous side chick,” he said, not missing a beat. “I don’t even know how she got in here.”

I heard the click of a pen from one reporter. The amused scoff of another guest. A laugh from someone near the bar.

“The side chick?” A man beside him raised a brow. “You really shouldn’t let women like that crash your night. Wouldn’t want Miss Cecilia getting upset.”

“Yes, that was my mistake,” Jayden said smoothly, slipping an arm around Cecilia’s waist. “Are you mad, darling?”

“I could never.” Cecilia’s giggle floated through the air as her eyes flicked toward me, sharp and amused.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

My best friend. My husband.

As whispers spread across the room like wildfire, a man in a tuxedo with a clipboard tapped Jayden lightly on the shoulder. “Mr. Lace,” he said, smiling at Cecilia, “we’re ready for your speech. The press and guests are waiting by the main stage.”

“Perfect timing,” Jayden responded smoothly. His hand remained around Cecilia’s waist as if the two of them weren’t standing on the remains of my marriage. “Shall we, darling?”

Cecilia didn’t even glance my way. Her fingers curled around his, her head held high as she walked with him — hand in hand — to the stage.

That was it. My cue.

There was nothing left to fight for. Nothing left to say.

I turned before the tears could fall. My feet moved on instinct as I made my way toward the exit, each step heavier than the last. I walked past the photographers, the murmuring guests, the glass displays, and the wine-stained laughter that suddenly felt a world away. The red carpet beneath me felt like a tightrope. I was teetering between fury and despair.

Outside, the air hit like a slap. It was cooler than I expected, a sharp breeze cutting through the silk of my gown. I paused just beyond the steps, away from the glimmering lights, and finally exhaled.

The reality of what had just happened hit me full force.

He called me a side chick.

After four years of marriage, that was all I was to him.

My hands trembled as I reached for my phone, my fingers numb, and unlocked it without thinking. Dozens of notifications lit up the screen — texts, missed calls, tags on social media. But one name blinked on the screen that made my blood run colder than the wind licking at my skin.

Mom.

Before I could even decide if I wanted to speak to her, my thumb had already answered the call.

“Allison,” she snapped before I could say a word. “What in God’s name did you do?!”

I blinked, stunned. “What?”

“Jayden just called,” she continued, her voice sharp with disapproval. “He told us everything. That you showed up uninvited and started causing a scene. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is—for him? For us?”

I stared ahead blankly, traffic passing by in streaks of red and white. “Mom, he’s cheating on me. With Cecilia. I saw them. They were—he kissed her. And she wore my dress, the same one he gave me to wear tonight.”

“I don’t care what she wore!” she barked. “You’re making it about a damn dress? Allison, your husband is a powerful man, and he has responsibilities. You think throwing a tantrum in public is the way to keep your marriage together?”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “He told the world I was just a side chick.”

“And maybe,” she said icily, “if you had been the kind of wife a man like Jayden needed, he wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere.”

That did it. The crack in my heart split clean in two.

“I was loyal,” I whispered, voice barely audible over the city noise. “I stood by him. For four years, I stayed hidden while he built his image. I supported him. And he tossed me out like garbage.”

“Then be grateful for what he gave you.”

My hand shook. My knees weakened.

I wanted to laugh. Or scream. Or drop into the middle of the road and let the lights swallow me whole.

“You’re really taking his side,” I whispered.

“I’m taking the side of logic,” she said. “He’s a Lace. You’re just—”

She didn’t finish. But she didn’t have to.

Instead, I hung up.

The silence that followed was louder than the conversation.

I stood there on the street, alone in a dress that no longer felt like mine, and realized there was nowhere to go. My things were still at Jayden’s house — a house that probably already had space cleared for Cecilia. I had no plan. No safety net. Not even a family willing to take me in without shame.

I did the only thing I could do.

I started walking.

Block after block. No destination. Just distance. I walked through the city like a ghost, passing glittering storefronts and couples holding hands, all while that one line echoed in my head.

She’s just a jealous side chick.

By the time I found the bar, my feet were sore and my emotions had splintered into something numb. I didn’t even look twice. I just pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The bar wasn’t fancy. Which was perfect.

It was dim, the music was loud enough to drown my thoughts, and the drinks were strong. I slid into a booth near the corner, head low, and waved down the bartender.

“Vodka. Double. No ice.”

He raised a brow but didn’t ask questions. Good man.

When the glass hit the table, I downed it in two swallows. It burned all the way down, but I welcomed the fire. It was the only warmth I’d felt all day.

Another round.

Then another.

The room tilted a little, but the pain in my chest didn’t ease. My fingers were still trembling, my eyes still hot. Every time I blinked, I saw Jayden holding Cecilia’s hand. Smiling. Calling her the love of his life.

After four years of marriage.

“Asshole,” I muttered.

The bartender slid over. “Everything alright?”

“Nope.”

He hesitated. “Want me to call someone?”

“I don’t have anyone.”

He nodded like he understood. Then walked away.

I leaned back, head against the wood, and stared at the ceiling.

Maybe I’d been a fool all along. Maybe Jayden never loved me. Maybe I was just a placeholder. The sweet, dumb girl who looked good on paper and knew how to keep her mouth shut. Not loud. Not messy. Not like Cecilia, who sparkled even when she lied through her teeth.

I should’ve seen it. The late nights. The locked phone. The lipstick on his collar once—he said it was his mom’s hug.

Another laugh burst out of me. This one hurt more.

I was such an idiot.

Someone slid into the booth across from me.

I didn’t look at first.

“Bad night?” a voice asked. Deep. Smooth. American accent, but touched with something else—like he’d been places.

I opened one eye and glanced up.

The man was… ridiculously handsome. Tousled black hair, faint stubble, ice-blue eyes that didn’t blink much. He looked like someone who’d been rich too long to care about rules anymore. His suit was casual but expensive. His watch probably cost more than my life.

I blinked at him. “Is this the part where you offer me a drink and I pretend I’m not a mess?”

He smirked. “Only if you promise not to cry on my jacket.”

“No promises,” I muttered, turning back to my glass.

He didn’t leave.

Instead, he flagged the bartender. “Whiskey. Neat.”

I watched him from the corner of my eye.

“Let me guess,” I said finally. “You’re here to forget something too?”

He looked at me for a long moment. “Not forget. Just… remind myself I’m still alive.”

Something about the way he said it made me pause.

I studied him now, properly.

He wasn’t just good-looking. He looked… dangerous. But not in a threatening way. In a don’t-touch-if-you-can’t-handle-the-burn kind of way.

“You’re not from around here,” I said.

“Was. Left for a while. Came back tonight.”

“Lucky you.”

He sipped his drink. “You’ve got rage in your eyes. But you’re holding it in.”

I raised a brow. “That supposed to impress me?”

“No. Just an observation.”

I sighed and leaned back. “My husband cheated on me with my best friend. Told the whole city I was just a side chick. Parents blamed me for it. Now I’m sitting here, drinking like a cliché.”

He whistled low. “Damn. You win.”

“I wasn’t playing.”

His eyes met mine. Serious now. “Good. Don’t ever play with men like that again.”

There was silence between us. Not awkward. Just… still.

Then I did something I didn’t expect.

“I want you to sleep with me,” I said flatly.

His brow twitched. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m not interested.”

“I don’t care.” I reached out and wrapped my hand around his wrist. “I’m not asking for a forever. I’m asking for a night. One night that’s not about him. One night that’s mine.”

He turned fully toward me now. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m grieving,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”

His eyes darkened at that. The stillness in his body shifted — something deeper taking root.

He leaned in, just slightly. “I don’t f*ck broken girls.”

“Then make me whole,” I dared.

A pause.

Then he murmured in a low, velvet voice that curled against my skin like smoke:

“I don’t do sweet. I don’t do gentle. If I touch you, you won’t sleep tonight. You’ll bleed him out of your body screaming my name. Still want that?”

I exhaled sharply, goosebumps prickling my skin.

“Good,” I said. “Then break me.”