For this chapter Listen to: So Am I by Ava Max.

The quick clicking of heels resonating from a short distance woke me up. My eyes flickered at the sun peeking into my room from my window. Still dazed from sleep, I tried figuring out if it was morning or afternoon. The acute and distinct sound caught my full attention, and the loud footsteps were now approaching my room. My sluggish brain tried to process what was happening.

"Chloe, are you ready?" My sister's voice sent me flying from the bed to the door to stop her from entering my room.

Shit! Today is the wedding.

I looked around for the wall clock and checked the time. I still had forty-five minutes to get ready.

"Chloe?" my big sister called, trying to open the door, but I pushed with overwhelming might on the door and succeeded in locking it.

"Almost ready. I will be out in a minute!" I said breathlessly.

"Why did you lock the door?" she asked, knocking harshly.

"I don't want you to see how fabulous I look yet." I giggled nervously, feeling her roll her eyes from the other side of the door.

"Whatever. Hurry up. I can't be late for my best friend's wedding. I'll be downstairs."

I waited for her to leave before running to my closet to pick out the dress I'd bought last week for the wedding. I laid it on the bed and undressed quickly, almost tripping on my pajama shorts as I pulled them down my legs.

During my whole twenty years on earth, I had never taken such a quick shower. I slipped on my peach corset tulle dress that stopped above my knees. The off-the-shoulder sleeves were made with delicate lace. I loved the dress because it went with the light shade of my skin, enhancing my blue eyes.

"Chloe!" Ciara called.

The aftermath of her voice rang in my head. It made me feel like a child being scolded for playing in the mud.

"Coming!" I yelled back as I brushed my hair and prepared to style it to perfection.

"Chloe, come on. We're gonna be late," Ciara shouted from downstairs, her patience seeping out of her.

I didn't blame her. I'd feel worse if I were in her place.

We were going to a big wedding—a billion-dollar wedding sounded more appropriate since the two wealthiest families in Beverly Hills were getting married. Well, I considered myself poor since I was living off my parents' wealth.

It was Ciara's best friend's wedding, and I wanted to tag along mainly because of the cake and mouthwatering cuisine. Food was life—I'd always defend that quote.

I didn't know much about her best friend, but I knew they had been joined at the hip since senior year, and Ciara was going to be the maid of honor. I'd never wanted to go to the wedding. I had loads of schoolwork due on Wednesday, especially an eight-page essay, but when Ciara had kept talking about the wedding and how spectacular it was going to be, I'd become intrigued.

Now, she was waiting for me while I struggled with the chignon I'd decided to make. I'd had everything planned for today's event, but it was falling apart. My dark brown hair was long, making it hard to style it the way I wanted. The dress made me feel like an angel as I stared at myself in the mirror mounted on the white dresser, but I was not even close to being considered an angel. I blocked the memories away with a fake smile.

I kept my eyes on the mirror as I used each pin to hold my thick hair in place, but it was a complete disaster. I was in this situation because I'd forgotten the time for the wedding.

"Coming. I just need to put in the last pin," I lied.

I had two pins in between my lips as I struggled with the one in my hand to hold my hair. I had spent almost fifteen minutes on my hair. Who knew a chignon was this hard to do? I wouldn't be surprised if my big sister decided to ditch me—it was her best friend's wedding—but I wouldn't miss the cake for the world.

"Oh my God, Chloe, what the hell are you doing up there?" Ciara yelled.

She was my ride to the wedding and my invitation as well.

"Chloe!" Mom called.

"Honey, hurry up." I heard Dad's voice next.

"Almost done!" I yelled back after I succeeded in putting in the last pin.

Next time, I would use YouTube. I believed YouTube had all the answers to every difficult task in life. I smiled at myself in the mirror, impressed with my handiwork.

I grabbed my makeup kit and went to work. I was about to use the dark eyeliner when Ciara yelled my name again, making me smudge it against my cheek.

"Great," I growled, grabbing a wipe to clean the charcoal color streaking my face.

"I give up. I'm leaving. Sofia will kill me if I show up five minutes late," Ciara said.

If only Mom had allowed her to spend the night at Sofia's house. She couldn't even attend the bachelorette party because our mom believed it was a lame party for ill-mannered women.

"Wait, give me five seconds!" I screamed, grabbing my purse. I packed my lipstick, eyeliner, and jewelry inside. I picked up my strappy heels and rushed out of the room like my ass was on fire.

"Sorry, I was styling my hair," I rasped, running down the stairs barefoot, like someone escaping from a psychiatric ward.

Just when I was about to get off the last step, the worst happened. Everything in my purse fell out, and when I tried to pick them up, my hair loosened as the pins dropped. I stood upright and stared at my sister, who looked at me with murderous intent.

My parents looked frustrated too—Mom mostly. She was the type that expected you to never do anything wrong. She loved perfection, and right now, I was the opposite. They might die from a heart attack when they discovered the truth about their perfect daughter.

I could keep up the facade; I had done it for years.

"Sorry, I will just pick them up and—"

Ciara cut in, "You know what? I can't wait anymore, not even for you to breathe. Call your boyfriend. I'm sure he won't mind giving you a ride."

I hated when she was angry. There was this look she always gave me, like I was the worst person to ever exist on earth.

Her dark eyes blazed in anger as she stared at me. It was as if I could see the fire in them. She had our father's dark eyes while I'd inherited Mom's cold blue eyes. I envied her perfect height and oval face. She could be mistaken for a model. I, on the other hand, could be mistaken for a fourteen-year-old.

"But I don't have an invitation," I grumbled.

Ciara groaned and searched her fancy round golden purse and then threw the invitation card at me with an icy look. "Happy now? Thanks a lot, Chloe, for making me late to my best friend's wedding. Remind me not to pick you as my maid of honor, not even one of the bridesmaids."

Ouch!

"Ciara." Mom stepped forward in my defense.

"Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad. I have to be on my way."

She looked at me, the expression on her face so grim that I wanted to run to my room and forget about the wedding. She turned away and headed for the front door. I knew I had to face my parents next.

I turned to look at them with a sheepish grin plastered on my face. Mom folded her arms, and her fierce blue eyes focused on me like a camera. She was tall—taller than Dad and everyone in her family. I guessed Ciara had taken a quarter of that gene while I had taken Dad's short gene.

"Chloe," Mom started.

Her whole demeanor reminded me of my high school principal. That woman was Ursula's twin sister who'd escaped from the sea.

"You owe your sister an apology, and this should be the last time you try something like this. We didn't raise you to be so tardy."

"I get it, Mom. It won't happen again," I grunted.

"Good. Give Grey a call now. If you're twenty minutes late, then forget about attending the wedding."

"Mom," I grumbled.

"Twenty minutes, Chloe," she repeated.

"Dad." I gave him puppy eyes.

"You heard your mom."

Why doesn't anyone treat me like the last born in this family? I thought we got special treatment.

He always sided with his wife. How could I forget that? If there was anything I had learned about their relationship while growing up, it was that Mom had the upper hand.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"Remember, this family has a reputation. It will be best if you don't ruin that," Mom reminded me. She was probably thinking about her classy group of friends who only gathered once in a blue moon to sip expensive wine and envy each other's designer clothes.

It was always about the family's reputation. Every freaking mistake I made ruined the family's reputation.

"I won't." I forced a smile and went back upstairs to my room.

I'd been faking smiles my whole life, hiding the pain no one ever noticed—not even my parents. I only hoped I would never fail them or give them any reason to be ashamed of me again.

Wait until they find out about Dominiano.

Luckily for me, my boyfriend, Grey lived close by. I finished my makeup and put on my jewelry and heels. Mom called my name when Grey arrived. I hurried down the stairs with a big grin.

There he was in a slim-fit black suit that he'd matched with black Chucks, looking cool and handsome, as always. His curly hair looked perfect from here, tumbling to his forehead like bangs. His soft smile made his brown eyes sparkle with an irresistible charm as he held my gaze.

My parents stared at us as we reached out to hug like two lost lovers finding each other after years of endless searching. I tried to suppress the wide smile on my face as I moved closer to touch him, but Mom's voice interrupted us.

"You're running late."

Mom believed that only married couples should show affection in public. She'd told me it was a waste of time since we were not going to end up together in the future.

We had rules in my family, like we were not allowed to date until we were eighteen. We could move out of our parents' house to live on our own when we were done with college and had a decent job. Mom had told us she was brought up that way and it was the reason for her success and reputation as a surgeon.

I doubted that.

Dad had once told me she had a strict father who'd left a scar on her arm. It made sense why she always wore long-sleeved clothes.

I had broken the first rule. I'd started dating at fourteen. In fact, I'd dated four guys before I turned eighteen, and I was not planning on staying with my parents until I was done with college. Mom might have succeeded in talking me into attending a college only fifteen minutes from home, but graduate school would be my decision to make.

I loved my freedom, and I wasn't getting it here. I could only access my trust fund when I turned twenty-two. Two more torturous years to go. I planned to elope once I got access to it, maybe on a continent far from home.

I hooked my arm with Grey's and stared at my parents. Mom's eyes fixated on us, and it was an effort not to roll my eyes at how she monitored us like a hawk, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Be on good behavior, Cassandra."

I hated my middle name, and Mom only used it when she wanted to express how serious she was. I always saw Mom as a dictator. Her reputation was like oxygen to her.

"I will. Bye."

"Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Simpson," Grey said, smiling firmly.

"Make sure you return home with your sister!" Mom yelled after us as we stepped outside and walked to the car.

"I have goose bumps when I'm around your parents," Grey whispered to me when we were out of earshot.

I giggled, facing him. He looked elegant and gorgeous. I ran my fingers through his soft curls and smiled at him. His mixed genes from his white father and Sudanese mother had done him good. His father was a movie producer, and his mom was a powerful attorney, but they lived in New York, and he'd moved here with his elder brother during his junior year in high school.

"You look hot. I'm so jealous," I said, frowning.

His brown eyes glimmered under the sunlight. I traced his chiseled jawline and cheekbone with my fingertips.

"You look ravishing. Why don't we skip the wedding?" he said, putting his arm around my waist, sliding it slowly to my hips.

He leaned closer to my face to kiss me. I slightly parted my lips to welcome his.

"Cassandra." I heard my mom's voice.

We both looked in her direction and found her staring at us from the doorway.

"We were just leaving."

We rushed to where his white Tesla was parked and got in.

"Wow." He laughed.

"You should be used to her by now."

"Trust me, I'm still trying."

We left for the wedding, laughing.

I guessed it would've been worse, going with Ciara while she was fuming with rage and holding an invisible dagger over my head.