Chapter 2 Dirty Laundry and Wedding Dress

I left the HR department and got back to the Beacon Hill townhouse by three in the afternoon.

For the remaining seven hours of the afternoon, my phone stayed completely silent. Not a single text from William. Not a single call from my brother. Nobody asked where I was. Nobody cared.

Around ten o'clock, the front door finally unlocked. William walked into the living room, loosening his tie. In his left hand, he was carrying a familiar white paper bag with the North End Cupcake logo printed.

My chest tightened for a split second. That bakery was an hour away. Back when we first started dating, every time we had a massive fight, William would stand in the freezing cold for two hours just to buy me their red velvet cupcakes. It used to be his way of saying he was sorry.

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you all day," William said.

Maybe a stupid, lingering part of me thought he actually realized he crossed a line with the bathroom remodel. I reached over and opened the bag.

The tiny bit of warmth in my chest instantly hit absolute zero. 

There were no cupcakes inside. Instead, shoved into the bottom of the bag, were three silk blouses and an evening gown. All of them were smeared with dried frosting and chocolate.

I looked up at him. "What the hell is this, William?"

William shifted his weight. "Ivy went to a charity gala tonight and accidentally backed into the dessert table. You’re always the most careful with laundry in this house. Just hand-wash these for her, okay? Make sure you use the silk-specific detergent. You know how sensitive her skin gets if we use the regular stuff."

He paused, leaning closer with a perfectly practiced, patronizing grin. "Besides, this was the democratic result of our game night vote. You haven't forgotten, have you?"

I stared at him. Last Friday, Liam and William were four bourbons deep during board game night. Out of nowhere, Liam jokingly initiated a vote: Who is the designated family maid?

Three hands shot up. Three votes for me.

William had laughed it off, wrapping an arm around my waist. She’ll be a great wife and mother. She’s already picking up all our slack around the house anyway.

I thought it was just a tasteless, drunken joke. I didn't realize they had actually voted me into being their unpaid servant.

"I see," I said. My voice was completely flat. "So I’m doing her dirty laundry now."

William completely missed the warning in my tone. He reached out and pinched my cheek. "I knew you wouldn't be petty about it. Just get the stains completely out. Ivy is a massive neat freak." He started unbuttoning his collar. "Don't forget your wedding dress fitting tomorrow. Go to bed early."

He turned his back on me and headed upstairs to shower, naturally assuming the argument was over.

I stood alone in the living room. I listened to the water rushing through the pipes upstairs. 

I grabbed the paper bag, turned around, and walked straight over to the gas fireplace. The flames were already burning high. I didn't hesitate. I tossed the entire bag directly into the center of the fire.

The paper caught instantly. Within seconds, the flames licked the expensive silk. The fabric shriveled up, melting into violent black ash.

Seven years of this relationship. Once it got dirty, you didn't scrub it clean. You threw it in the trash.

The next afternoon, I was exactly two minutes late getting to the Vera Wang flagship store on Newbury Street because a London client demanded a late-stage revision sprint.

When I finally pushed open the glass doors to the VIP bridal suite, I stopped dead in my tracks.

Standing on the circular pedestal in front of the tri-fold mirrors was Ivy. She was wearing a bespoke Chantilly lace ballgown. It had taken six months of custom fittings, endless design tweaks, and multiple flights to New York to perfect.

It was my wedding dress.

William and Liam stood off to the side, both holding crystal champagne flutes, looking at Ivy with absolute adoration.

"I still think the satin mermaid cut fits the venue better," Ivy said. She stepped off the pedestal, picking up the heavy lace skirt and walking toward me, her eyes wide and innocent. "Charlotte, can we take a vote? I really, really prefer the other one."

She pointed to a sleek mermaid gown hanging on the display rack. It was the exact dress I had violently vetoed during my very first consultation.

I stared at her, then looked back at the dress she was currently wearing. My dress.

"This is my wedding gown," I said. "Are you seriously telling me I don't even get to decide what I wear to my own wedding?"

The two sales associates froze against the back wall. Their eyes darted nervously between me and Ivy. They finally realized they had put the actual bride's gown on the wrong woman.

William immediately stepped forward, positioning himself between me and Ivy. "Charlotte, stop being so aggressive."

"We agreed to vote on the big decisions. We’re not completely ignoring your taste. We're just finding a compromise that works for everyone."

Liam let out a sigh and slammed his champagne flute onto the table. "Jesus, Charlotte. From the time we were kids, you've always let her have the good stuff first. Once she's done trying it on, she’s going to give it right back to you. It's literally just a dress. The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow night. Do you really have to throw a massive tantrum right now?"

Right on schedule, Ivy's eyes flooded with heavy, perfectly timed tears.

"I'm so sorry," she choked out, her voice trembling and pathetic. "I just wanted to help you pick the best dress for the photos. I didn't mean to make you mad."

Before I could even respond to her absurd logic, Ivy aggressively wrenched herself out of the half-zipped bodice, letting the lace gown drop to the floor in a careless heap. She covered her face with her hands and sprinted out of the showroom sobbing in just her silk slip.

"Ivy, wait!" William yelled. He didn't even look at me. He just dashed out the door right behind her.

Liam shoved past my shoulder, glaring at me. "You are completely unbelievable," he muttered, sprinting out after them.

In their frantic rush out the door, neither of them even looked down. 

I stood there, looking at the wedding dress I had dreamed of for months, now dumped on the floor and trampled with muddy footprints. My heart couldn't stop trembling.

The store went dead silent. Only the soft jazz playing over the speakers filled the room.

The lead associate swallowed hard and cautiously stepped forward. "Ma'am... regarding this gown... do you still want us to pack it up for you?"

I let out a short, quiet laugh.

I reached into my tote, pulled out my card, and handed it to her. "Ring it up. Add whatever breach of contract penalties or damage fees you need to cover this mess. I'll pay it all right now."

Then I pulled out my phone. I dialed a number.

"Hello? This is Charlotte Bennett," I said, my voice steady, crisp. "The wedding is canceled. Yes, completely canceled. Contact all the vendors. I will wire the cancellation fees for the estate and the catering by the end of the day."