Page 104 of Knotted

Then she kisses him. Full on. Deep. So deep that the crowd loses their absolute shit as my heart shatters. The world blurs, and my chest collapses on itself until I can’t breathe.

I should say something.

Tell him the truth.

Tell everyone the truth.

That’s not Sydney Sun. I am.

But I can’t.

I’m too busy wiping away the tears to do anything else.

“You need to take a seat, miss,” a woman says, her voice breaking through the haze.

But I don’t sit. I can’t.

My feet unlock, and I rush to find Taylor. By thetime I reach her, she’s already at a table on the other side of the room, wrapping me in the biggest, tightest hug.

“You won!” she squeals, excitement bubbling over. “I saw you in that killer red dress, and?—”

Her voice falters as she pulls back, her face twisting with confusion when she sees I’m still in the emerald dress I came in. “What’s going on? And...why are you crying?”

“We need to find Brian.” The words come out in a choked sob. “I have to tell him the truth.”

By the time we make it backstage, he’s gone. My doppelgänger’s gone. And most of my hope is gone with them. Then I call. And Taylor calls.

Nothing.

For the next hour, we push through the crowd. My mind spins, emotions crashing into one another like waves in a storm—rage, fear, regret. It’s all too much, but I can’t stop. Not now.

Brian first. Breakdown later.

Then we split up, and I stumble onto Wyld and Roxie. They’re practically wrapped around each other, limbs tangled like two cozy wolf spiders caught in a web. And my last shred of my sanity snaps.

I lunge for Roxie, fury blazing through me. “You’ve had your fun. Where is he?” My voice cracks, but I don’t care. I’m past that.

She shoves me back and straightens her dress, her smirk deepening. “Don’t you meanthey?” Her voice is syrupy, mocking. “And shouldn’t you know? You’re his wife, after all.”

She pulls out her phone, scrolling leisurely, dragging out the moment like she’s savoring it. “Must’ve been awkward, right?Watching him kiss another woman while you just stood there, letting him.”

Then she shoves the phone in my face, the screen blaring with the shot. Brian andNot-Sydney Sun, kissing. And raw pain hits my chest all over again.

And the next shot?

It’s me. On the verge of tears, my reaction captured in brutal clarity.

By this point, I’m so done. Either I’m getting charged with attempted murder, or I’m leaving.

With fury boiling beneath my skin, I storm off, ready to let the social media chips fall where they may. Let them post. Let them speculate. I don’t care.

Except I really do. It’s public and horrible and the heartbreak of Brian Gabriel Bishop all over again.

Her voice slices through the air. “I believe he’s whisking her away for the weekend,” she calls out, the smugness dripping from her words. Her hot pink phone is already pointed directly at me. “Any comment?”

I whirl around, fury pulsing through my veins. “You want a comment? You’ve got one. Go fuck yourself.”

I know I’ve just handed her exactly what she wanted—perfect footage, a juicy headline—but at this point, I don’t care. Not anymore.

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