VANESSA BELMONT
I returned to my bedroom and paced. My phone dinged, and I glanced at the screen. A calendar reminder popped up: Engagement Banquet at the Echelon Hotel.
Memories of my previous life flickered in my mind like an old movie reel. Ah. Yes. I'd spent a miserable evening watching Nathan and Fiona not-so-secretly adore each other. It made me sick to my stomach, and I'd fled to the restroom to cry in a stall.
How humiliating.
But not as humiliating as standing on stage with my fiancé, exchanging rings and promises for a future together … only to have Fiona faint. Nathan left mid-vow to scoop up Fiona and rush her to the hospital. Wasn't he such a good friend? Vomit.
Oh my God. Was I really that pathetic? My cringe behavior was beyond embarrassing. Why had I given Nathan such blind devotion? Disrespect by clueless idiocy was still considered disrespect. I deserved better.
"I'll make him dump me," I told myself. I marched into my dressing room and stared at row after row of conservative clothing—high collars, knee-length skirts.
Ugh. So much white and beige. Not a single primary color. Plain shoes, all with low heels. I always pinned up my long red hair, wore only clear nail polish. My jewelry was expensive but not flashy. My makeup was low-key but flawless. My personality? Boring but—. No. No "but." Just boring. A quiet, reserved nincompoop—that was Vanessa Belmont.
My cat, Henry, jumped onto the chair where I usually sat to put on my shoes. "It's time for some serious retail therapy." I raised my arms dramatically. "No one will stop me from being fabulous."
Henry meowed loudly, and I took that as, "You go, girl."
***|***|***
You know who looks good in emerald green?
Me.
The strapless sheath dress clung to my curves, the slit on one side revealing my leg up to mid-thigh. My stilettos matched the deep green of the dress, and diamond-and-emerald drop earrings swayed with every step. A matching pendant rested just above my cleavage, catching the light. My nails shimmered in glittery silver—fingers and toes.
My glossy blonde curls cascaded over my shoulders, framing my face. Dark smoky eye makeup, bold red lipstick.
Watch out, bitches.
Sweet, shy, compliant Vanessa was gone.
That confidence lasted until I reached the ballroom entrance. Two guards stood outside the double doors, checking invitations. I didn't have one—because this was my engagement banquet. Surely they'd let me in.
Nathan and I usually arrived separately for events. His stipulation. For the last two months, he brought Fiona, of course, to parties and get-togethers. She pretended to be some kind of personal assistant. Nate told me he'd given her the job because she wanted the dignity of earning her own money. Given how often he bought her clothes and groceries and things for the apartment he also paid for, I think he was full of shit.
Also, who makes their fiance show up to the ENGAGEMENT banquet alone? Dollars to donuts that Fiona the Fragile Fairy was inside the venue, clinging to Nathan's arm like a barnacle on a yacht.
Nerves twisted in my stomach. Why was I so anxious? Duh. I was about to face the the person who'd murdered me in my past life. Not to mention Nathan, who left me to die. What an asshole.
Okay, okay. I needed to get a grip. I wouldn't marry Jerkface Jang. And I wouldn't be scared of Fiona. They had no idea I'd been reborn. I had the upper hand now. And I would get revenge on everyone who'd wronged me. And I would eat more candy and drink more wine and paint while naked. But first, I needed to learn how to paint.
"Vanessa?" A nasally voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned and saw Fiona's two favorite flying monkeys: Kiki Moore and Hanelle Fye. "What are you wearing?"
"It's an exclusive from Belladonna," I said smoothly. "One-of-a-kind."
"Liar." Kiki was short, with long dark hair and a sneer permanently etched onto her perfectly made-up face. As usual, she wore a Chanel outfit—pink-and-black jacket with a matching mini-skirt. "How would you get a Belladonna original?"
With a phone call, I thought. Bellie and I had been college roommates. We remained friends to this day. She'd sent over the dress before I'd even finished asking for her help. I adored her to bits, and felt guilty about devoting so much time and attention to Nathan. He didn't really want me. I was a business decision, a wife on paper, a marital afterthought. This time around, I would pay more attention to my friends and to building a good life.
Kiki waved her hand in front of my face. "Hello? Vanessa? You really have some nerve showing up in a fake dress."
"Anyone can see the fabric is cheap," Hanelle added. Taller, with a light brown bob and pinched lips, she wore the same Chanel outfit as Kiki—just in black and white.
Kiki's lips curled. "Nathan will hate this awful dress."
"Not as much as I hate you," I muttered. "Or did you forget whose engagement banquet this is?"
Kiki's smirked. "Rightfully, it should belong to Fiona and Nathan. After all, she's his childhood sweetheart. They grew up together."
Hanelle nodded. "He's only marrying you because his family is forcing him."
"That still means I'm the wife," I said. "And Fiona's the mistress."
"The third party is the one who isn't loved," sneered Kiki.
"Yeah," echoed Hanelle. "That's you."
"Oh. I thought the third party was the bitch not wearing the wedding ring or living in our house."
"Just you wait," said Kiki.
"For what? Hell to freeze over." I pinched my fingers and rubbed them—the gesture for money. "I look forward to your red envelopes, ladies."
Kiki stamped her foot, and Hanelle, ever the follower, did the same. They turned and shoved their invitations at the guards. They opened the double doors.
"By the way," Kiki tossed over her shoulder, "this woman is trying to sneak in. Mr. Jang will be very upset if you let her inside." Her smile was all teeth—the kind monsters wore. "Throw her out."