Page 77 of Malicious Wedding

I glare at her. “How the fuck can you say that right now?”

“What? I’m just saying.” She takes a long drink. “Skip the bullshit cloak and dagger stuff and cut a girl a check.” I throw a pillow at her, which she artfully dodges. “Look, I know he sort of lied to you, but think about what he did. That man respected your wishes for ten years, despite being certifiably insane over you, and he only broke that silence because your whole family was in serious trouble. I honestly can’t believe I’m saying all this, but here we are.”

“Carson’s sick. He stalked me for ten years. You can wrap it up however you want, call it whatever you want, but it was still stalking. I feel violated, and the worst part is, everyone knew it. Everyone in his family, anyway. The first thing my brother said to me after waking up from a freaking coma was don’t get involved with Carson. That’s the first thing he said! And here I am, married to the guy.”

“You didn’t know,” Bernie says, putting an arm around me.

I lean my head on her shoulder. “Does that help? I mean, I knewsomethingwas off. People kept making comments, and heck, he even admitted that he’s obsessed with me. I thought it was hot and I was flattered, like I’m special or something, but now looking back I can see how pathetic it all really was.”

Bernie shifts slightly, kissing my hair. “You’re not pathetic.”

“But I am. I’ve been saying for years that I have some special guardian angel because things just kept working out for me, and instead of wonderingwhythat might be happening, I accepted it at face value. I thought I was just lucky, or I worked really hard and earned everything, or a million other rationalizations. Instead, it’s been Carson this whole time.”

“I can understand why you feel that way, but seriously Ash, you’re not pathetic at all. Nobodyeverwould’ve guessed that some random, rich gangster was taking care of them from afar. I mean, it’s total insanity, right? He’s been stalking you without stalking you for a decade.”

“I just feel used. That’s all.”

“I don’t want to be the devil’s advocate here, I really don’t, only it’s just that, I believe he never planned on getting involved with you, that he wanted to help you and make your life easier for you and only you, without ever getting anything in return. And that’s almost… sweet of him?”

“Until suddenly an opportunity arose.” I shake my head, standing. I can’t believe Bernie’s seriously trying to defend him right now. “He’s crazy, Bern. Crazy and manipulative. He played the long game and almost won. I married him!”

“Without a prenup,” she points out. “He knew he had to tell you sooner or later, right? If he’s as smart as you seem to think he is, and I tend to agree, then he knew what he was doing when he didn’t lock you down. He wanted to give you a choice. You could take him to court and make him bleed if you wanted to, and he knew that was a serious possibility from the start.”

I stare at her, seething. “Maybe you’re right. It’s still not better.”

“Yeah, probably. I’m just saying, he could’ve done a lot more to take away your agency, and instead it looks like he tried his best to make it so that you’re not trapped.”

“He did everything but tell me the truth, which is the bare freaking minimum. I can’t have a relationship with that guy anymore, but I also still need him to make sure none of you get hurt. Now I don’t know what to do.”

She’s silent for a moment before she stands, walks over, and gives me a hug. “I’m so sorry you’re in this position. I wish I had better advice for you, but I’ve never had to handle a rich psycho stalker before.”

“Thanks,” I say, hugging her back, even though I’m annoyed. “You want to know the sickest part? I was starting to feel something. I actually liked him. I still like him. Only I don’t know what was real and what was fake.”

“You can feel what you feel, it’s okay.” She squeezes my hand. “Stay here as long as you need.”

I sleep on her couch that night. I keep thinking about Carson, looking back over my life and spotting all the little ways he intervened to ease my life, and each time sends a shock of recognition and horror running down my spine.

I should’ve figured it out sooner. The signs were all there screaming in my face, except I refused to listen. I wandered around blissfully ignorant pretending like life just always worked out in my favor, when really it was Carson nudging everything along, keeping me on track.

In the morning, I shower, make coffee, and I’m about to ask Bernie if she wants any breakfast when someone knocks at the door.

I pause, nerves jangling. It’s barely past eight. Nobody gets deliveries this early.

Slowly, I look out her peephole.

There’s nobody.

I open the door, worried Carson’s about to jump out and grab me by the throat.

Instead, there’s a large, brown paper bag on the floor.

Beside it is my engagement ring sitting on top of a white piece of paper.

I stare at the ring. I recognize the bag—it’s from the bagel place I like.

He brought me breakfast. And returned my ring.

“You sick asshole,” I whisper, gathering it all up before locking all the locks. I dump the stuff on the table, staring at the ring, then read the note.

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