My Runaway Groom's Billionaire Cousin

The reflection in the mirror didn't look like Blaire.

She looked like a porcelain doll encased in fifty thousand dollars' worth of Vera Wang silk and lace. Perfect. Fragile. Expensive.

Blaire pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to flatten the nausea rolling in waves. It was just nerves. Every bride felt this way. It was the biological response to signing away her life to one person forever.

"Oh my god, Blaire, listen to this one," Serena chirped from the velvet settee behind her. Serena was scrolling through her phone, the blue light reflecting in her perfectly manicured nails. "'The merger of the century. Singleton and English aren't just joining fortunes; they're creating a dynasty.' People are obsessed. The hashtag SingletonEnglishWedding is trending higher than the Met Gala."

Blaire forced the corners of her mouth up. It felt tight. Artificial.

"That's great," she whispered.

She glanced at her phone sitting on the vanity. The screen was black.

Jeffery hadn't texted. Not a Good morning, beautiful. Not a Can't wait to see you. Nothing since last night.

Her chest tightened. A specific kind of pressure, like a fist squeezing her lungs. Jeffery was emotional. He was soft. He should be blowing up her phone with nervous emojis right now.

The silence was loud. Too loud.

Suddenly, the heavy oak door to the bridal suite flew open. It banged against the wall with a violence that made Blaire jump.

Serena dropped her phone.

Blaire spun around, her massive skirt rustling like dry leaves.

Barrett stood in the doorway. Her brother. But he didn't look like the confident CEO of English Enterprises. He looked like a man who had just seen a ghost. His skin was the color of ash. Sweat beaded on his forehead, matting his blond hair.

"Barrett?" Blaire took a step forward. "Is it time?"

He didn't look at her. He looked at Serena. Then at Piper, who was fixing her lipstick in the corner.

"Get out," he croaked. His voice was wrecked.

Serena frowned. "Excuse me? We're in the middle of-"

"I said get the hell out!" Barrett roared, his voice cracking. "Now!"

The air left the room. Serena and Piper scrambled, grabbing their clutches and rushing past him without a word. The door clicked shut, sealing them in.

The silence that followed was heavy. Suffocating.

"What happened?" Blaire asked. Her voice was trembling. She hated it. "Is it Mom? Is it Dad?"

Barrett walked toward her. His legs seemed unsteady. He stopped two feet away and reached into his tuxedo pocket. His hand was shaking so badly he could barely grip the piece of paper he pulled out.

It was a sheet of hotel stationery. Crumpled. Stained.

He held it out to her.

"Blaire," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Blaire stared at the paper. She didn't want to take it. She knew, with a sickening, physiological certainty, that touching that paper would end her life.

But she took it.

She unfolded it. Jeffery's handwriting. Loopy. Rushed. Cowardly.

Blaire,