In the end, Marco escorted me out himself.

He didn’t let anyone else touch me. He dragged me away from the rose garden, away from the laughter, away from the blue dress and the man I had foolishly believed might one day look at me and choose me. He pulled me through side corridors, out of sight of the soon-to-be bride and groom, until we reached the driveway where my chauffeur and bodyguard stood waiting like executioners.

He opened the car door and guided me inside. I didn’t resist. I ...