The champagne glass slipped from my fingers before I even realized I'd grabbed it.
It shattered against the pristine marble floor of the Grand Ballroom at The Plaza, and the sharp crack of breaking crystal cut through the string quartet's rendition of Pachelbel's Canon like a gunshot.
Two hundred faces turned toward me in perfect synchronization designer gowns in soft pastels, tailored tuxedos, pearls that probably cost more than my car, all frozen in a tableau of upper-class shock.
At the altar, beneath an arch absolutely drowning in white roses and peonies that must have cost a fortune, my ex-fiancé stood with his arm linked through his bride's.
Damien Sterling looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he had.
I'd died three months ago when he dumped me. This was just my vengeful spirit come back to haunt him.
"You can't marry him!" My voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling, bouncing between crystal chandeliers that cast everything in a soft, romantic glow. Romantic. God, what a joke.
The bride Madison Hayes, sweet perfect Madison with her princess ballgown and her fairy-tale wedding turned to look at me with her doe eyes going wide. Her father, who'd been in the middle of giving her away, actually stumbled backward. The officiant's mouth hung open like a fish.
But it was Damien's face I focused on. Damien, who'd whispered he loved me for three years. Damien, who'd gotten down on one knee at sunset on a beach in the Hamptons. Damien, who'd held me while I cried and promised he'd never leave.
Damien, who'd sent me a text message a fucking text message saying I was "too complicated" and he'd found someone "easier to love."
"Raven?" His voice cracked on my name. "What are you doing here?"
What was I doing here?
Excellent question. I'd asked myself the same thing in the Uber on the way over, nursing the bottle of tequila I'd bought from a liquor store with my last twenty dollars. I'd asked it again when I'd slipped past security by pretending to be a plus-one for the Hendersons from table twelve.
And I'd definitely asked it when I'd downed three more shots in the coat room while listening to the ceremony begin without me having the guts to actually go through with this.
But now, standing in my ripped black jeans and leather jacket among a sea of Vera Wang and Armani, my boots tracking dirt across their perfect white aisle runner, I knew exactly why I'd come.
"Tell her." I started walking down the aisle, my footsteps too loud in the horrified silence. Someone's grandmother gasped. I didn't care. "Tell her what you said to me three nights ago, Damien."
Madison's perfectly made-up face crumpled like tissue paper. "Damien? What is she talking about?"
"She's drunk." Damien's face flushed red, that telltale sign he was about to lose his temper. He'd always hated when I embarrassed him in front of his rich friends. "Security! Someone get security!"
"I'm not drunk." I was. A little. Maybe more than a little. "I'm honest. Which is more than you can say, you lying piece of"
"Miss, you need to leave." Two security guards appeared from nowhere, moving toward me with that careful, placating walk they used on crazy people. Which, fair. I probably looked crazy. Felt crazy too.
But I was faster.
I yanked my phone from my jacket pocket and held it up, finger hovering over the screen. "One more step and everyone in this room hears the voice message you left me at 2 AM on Tuesday, Damien. I'm sure Madison would love to hear it. I'm sure your mother would too."
Victoria Sterling sat in the front row in a dress that probably cost more than most people's cars, her face a mask of aristocratic horror.
She'd never liked me. Said I wasn't "their kind of people." Whatever the hell that meant.
Damien's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Raven, don't do this. Don't"
I pressed play.
His voice filled the ballroom, thick with whiskey and regret and that pathetic desperation I'd heard a thousand times before: "Raven, baby, please pick up. I know it's late. I know you probably hate me.
But I made a mistake. A huge mistake. I never should have let you go. I thought God, I thought Madison was what I wanted.
Stable, predictable, easy. But she's not you. She'll never be you. I don't love her the way I loved you. I don't love her at all. This wedding is a mistake. I'm making the biggest mistake of my life. Call me back. Please. We can fix this. We can"
I stopped the recording. The silence that followed was so thick you could choke on it.
Madison yanked her hand from Damien's arm like she'd been burned.
Tears streamed down her face, ruining her professional makeup job. "You called her? You said you you promised me"
"Madison, I was drunk, I didn't mean"
Damien reached for her, but she slapped his hand away.
"You didn't mean it?" Her voice rose to a shriek. "You didn't mean it when you said you don't love me?"
"That's not what I" He shot me a look of pure hatred. "This is your fault. You're ruining everything!"
"I'm ruining everything?" I laughed, and it came out bitter and broken. "You called me, Damien. You got drunk at your bachelor party and called your ex-fiancée to tell her you were making a mistake.
That's on you."
Victoria Sterling stood up, her face twisted with rage. "You vindictive little bitch. How dare you come here"
"How dare I tell the truth?" I turned to face her, to face all of them.
"How dare I let his bride know she's about to marry a man who doesn't love her?
A man who dumped me three months before our wedding because I was 'too much work,' but now he's having second thoughts because his shiny new toy isn't as exciting as he thought she'd be?"
"Get out!" Victoria's voice could've cut glass. "Get out before I have you arrested!"