Zara's POV
"Don't answer that phone."
Ethan's hand covers mine, stopping me from picking up Sienna's call. We're still standing in the Carlyle bar, the news playing on every screen, Dante's face going whiter by the second.
"She needs to know—"
"Not like this. Not over the phone while we're standing here with the evidence." His grip tightens. "We go to her. Together. Now."
Isabella stands up, one hand on her pregnant belly. "I'm coming too."
"The hell you are," Ethan says coldly.
"She deserves to hear the truth from me. From us both." Isabella's voice wavers. "I never wanted this. Marcus Reid approached me two months ago with photos of me and Dante from that night. He threatened to destroy me publicly if I didn't help him."
"Help him do what?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.
"Help him destroy you." Isabella looks at me with something like guilt. "He said you stole his career. His reputation. He wanted to take everything from you the same way you took everything from him."
"I didn't steal anything—"
"I know that now." Her eyes fill with tears. "But Marcus is convincing. And I was scared. I'm a nobody, Miss Kingsley. One scandal and my career is over. So when he told me to call Dante, to tell him I was pregnant, to push him toward this wedding while keeping secrets... I did it."
My stomach churns. "You told him to hire me?"
"Marcus told me what to say. He knew Dante felt guilty about the baby. Knew he'd want the prenup to protect both me and Sienna. Knew hiring you would put you in the spotlight right before everything exploded." She's crying now. "The plan was always for this to go public right before the wedding. To make you look incompetent. Like the wedding planner who couldn't even keep her own celebrity wedding together."
"You set me up." The words taste like ash. "All of you."
"I'm sorry—"
"Your sorry means nothing!" I'm shaking with rage. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Sienna is planning a wedding to a man who's been lying to her for months! I'm about to lose everything I rebuilt! And Marcus—" My voice cracks. "Marcus wins again."
Dante finally speaks, his voice broken. "I didn't want this. I tried to tell Marcus I was done, but he said he'd leak everything if I backed out. The baby. The affair. The secret payments to Isabella. He has evidence of everything."
"Then we go to the police," Ethan says sharply.
"With what proof? Marcus was careful. Everything happened through encrypted messages. Burner phones. He's been planning this for months."
"Years," I whisper. "He's been planning this for years."
The truth crashes over me like a wave. This isn't about one wedding. This is about systematic revenge. Marcus has been waiting, watching, gathering ammunition. And I walked right into his trap.
My phone rings again. Sienna. Still calling.
"We have to go," Ethan says firmly. "Zara, come on."
But I can't move. Because on the TV screen behind Dante, another story is breaking.
A photo of me. From three years ago. At that canceled wedding—the one Ethan asked about.
The headline: "Wedding Planner Zara Kingsley's Pattern of Disasters—Is She Cursed or Incompetent?"
"No," I breathe. "No no no—"
Ethan sees it too. His face goes hard. "Who leaked this?"
"Marcus," Dante says miserably. "He told me he'd been collecting evidence for years. Every wedding you've done, every client complaint, every minor issue—he's documented everything and made it look like a pattern of failure."
My phone explodes with notifications. Text messages. Emails. Social media mentions.
I open Twitter and my blood turns to ice.
Marcus Reid has posted. A long thread. Starting with: "It's time to tell the truth about Zara Kingsley and the empire built on lies..."
"Don't read it," Ethan says, reaching for my phone.
But I'm already reading. And every word is a knife.
Marcus claims I stole his business ideas. Claims I manipulated clients into firing him. Claims the canceled wedding three years ago was my fault because I had an affair with the groom.
That last part isn't true. None of it's true.
But there are photos. Doctored screenshots of text messages I never sent. Fabricated emails with my signature.
"He's framing me," I whisper. "This whole time, he's been building a case to destroy me publicly."
"We can fight this," Ethan says. "We can prove it's fake—"
"Can we?" I look at him. "Marcus is smart. He wouldn't post this unless he knew I couldn't disprove it fast enough. By the time we prove it's fake, the damage will be done. My clients will leave. The press will move on. And I'll be radioactive."
"Then we move faster."
"How?"
He doesn't have an answer. Neither do I.
My phone rings. Not Sienna this time. My assistant, Josie.
"Zara?" Her voice is panicked. "I've had twelve clients call in the last ten minutes. Three of them canceled. They saw the news and—"
"I know," I say dully. "I know what they saw."
"What do we do?"
What do we do? The question every survivor asks. What do you do when the monster you escaped comes back stronger, smarter, armed with years of calculated revenge?
"I'll call you back," I tell Josie and hang up.
Ethan is on his phone, texting rapidly. "I'm calling my investigator. We're going to trace every one of Marcus's posts, every photo, every document. We'll find the holes in his story—"
"There won't be any holes." I feel numb. Empty. "He's been planning this for three years. He's thought of everything."
"Zara—"
"I need to go to Sienna. She still doesn't know about the baby."
"We'll tell her together—"
"No." I step back. "You deal with Dante. Get the truth about Marcus's blackmail on record. I'll handle Sienna."
"You can't face her alone. Not after this."
"I've faced worse." I turn toward the door. "Besides, she hired me to plan her fairy tale. The least I can do is be there when it turns into a nightmare."
The taxi ride to Dante and Sienna's penthouse takes twelve minutes. Twelve minutes to watch my career implode in real-time on my phone. Twitter is brutal. Instagram worse. Someone created a Facebook group called "Zara Kingsley's Wedding Disasters" and it already has 2,000 members.
By the time I reach the building, I'm hollow. Just going through motions.
The doorman recognizes me. "Miss Vale is expecting you. She's... not doing well."
"I know."
The elevator ride up feels like ascending to my own execution.
Sienna opens the door before I can knock. Her face is swollen from crying. Mascara runs down her cheeks. She's still in her premiere gown from earlier, but now it looks wrong. Too pretty for this moment.
"Zara." She pulls me into a hug. "Thank God you're here. Did you see the news? The photos of Dante with Isabella? Everyone's saying—" She pulls back, searching my face. "You know something. I can see it. What aren't you telling me?"
And here it is. The moment I have to destroy her.
"Can we sit down?"
Her face goes pale. "It's worse than the photos, isn't it?"
"Sienna—"
"Just tell me. Is he cheating?"
"It's complicated—"
"IS HE CHEATING?"
"She's pregnant," I blurt out. "Isabella. Dante's ex-wife. She's pregnant. The baby is his."
Sienna stops breathing. Just stops. Her eyes go wide, vacant, like something inside her just died.
"Three months," I continue, because I have to. "It happened before you got engaged. He found out two weeks ago and didn't tell you. He's been meeting with her to discuss custody and child support."
"He's been... lying to me. For two weeks."
"Yes."
"While I planned our wedding."
"Yes."
She sits down slowly on the couch. Mechanical. Like a robot.
"Sienna, I'm so sorry—"
"Get out."
"What?"
"Get out of my home." Her voice is eerily calm. "Get out and take your fairy tales with you."
"Sienna, please—"
"You knew." She looks at me, and her eyes are dead. "How long have you known?"
"I just found out tonight. At the Carlyle. Ethan and I went there to find Dante—"
"So Ethan knew too. Everyone knew except me." She laughs, bitter and broken. "The stupid bride. Planning her dream wedding while her fiancé fathers another woman's child."
"It's not your fault—"
"ISN'T IT?" She's on her feet now, screaming. "Maybe everyone's right! Maybe I'm just another dumb actress playing make-believe! Maybe love is just a lie people tell themselves!"
She sounds like Ethan. Like every cynical word he's ever said.
And I hate it. I hate that she's right.
"Sienna—"
"The wedding is canceled." Her voice is flat now. Dead. "Send me the cancellation fees. Whatever I owe, I'll pay. But I never want to see you, Dante, or anyone connected to this disaster again."
"You don't have to decide tonight—"
"I JUST DID!" She's crying again, but this time it's different. Angrier. "Get out, Zara. Get out before I say something we'll both regret."
I leave. What else can I do?
In the hallway, my phone rings. Ethan.
"How is she?" he asks immediately.
"Destroyed. She canceled the wedding."
He's quiet for a long moment. "I'm sorry."
"Are you? Isn't this what you predicted? The fantasy crashing into reality?"
"Zara—"
"You were right, Ethan. You were right about everything. Love is just temporary insanity. Marriage is a contract waiting to fail. Happy endings don't exist." My voice cracks. "Congratulations. You win."
"I don't want to win. Not like this."
"Then what do you want?"
Silence. Then: "Where are you right now?"
"Leaving Sienna's building."
"Stay there. I'm five minutes away."
"Why?"
"Because you shouldn't be alone right now. And because—" He hesitates. "Because I need to show you something. Something about Marcus's plan that you need to see."
"What is it?"
"Not over the phone. Wait for me."
He hangs up.
I stand in the lobby, watching Manhattan through the glass doors. People walking past. Living their lives. Falling in love, falling apart, moving forward.
And I'm stuck. Trapped in the same nightmare I escaped three years ago.
My phone buzzes. Unknown number.
The message makes my heart stop:
"Enjoying the show? This is just Act One, sweetheart. Wait until you see what I have planned for the finale. PS - That contract you signed three years ago? The one you burned? I have the original. And tomorrow, everyone will know what you really are. Sleep well. -M"
Below it, a photo.
The contract. The one I thought was gone forever.
The one that proves I did something unforgivable the night my wedding fell apart.
The one that will destroy me permanently if it goes public.
And Marcus is going to release it tomorrow.