The Prank That Backfired

On my thirtieth birthday, Gideon Salton told me to meet him at city hall.

He made sure I wore a wedding dress and brought my papers, hyping it up as a huge birthday surprise.

But when I showed up, all dressed up, he turned to his trashy crew and laughed. "No way—she actually did it. Dress, docs, the whole thing. Pay up, fifty bucks each."

Then he looked at me. "Come on, Madison. You didn't seriously fall for that?"

I didn't answer.

He smirked. "If you're that thirsty to get hitched, go inside and grab some rando to register with."

His friends cracked up.

They called me Gideon's loyal simp, his forever backup plan. Said I'd never end up with anyone else.

But when I came out with my husband and a legit marriage certificate, Gideon just froze—pale, silent, wrecked.

I saw it—Gideon Salton taking cash from his buddies, one after another.

That was when it clicked: I was just the punchline in some bet.

The ones who lost laughed first, then rolled their eyes like I was the idiot.

"Madison Montclaire, do you even get how much I lost 'cause of you? Use your brain for once."

"We've told you a million times—Gideon's way outta your league. You really thought he'd marry you?"

"He's played you, what, eight, ten times? And you STILL fall for it? You're hopeless."

I bit my lip so hard it stung, fingers digging into my own skin.

Gideon, done raking in the cash, strolled back like nothing.

"What's wrong, Madison? Not happy?"

Then he turned to his crew.

"Hey, chill out. It's Madison's big day. Don't pick on the birthday girl."

For a second, I almost thought he grew a conscience.

Then he fished a bill from his pocket and held it out.

"Thanks for the thousand, babe. Here—five bucks. Go get a cupcake or something. Happy birthday."

The group cracked up again.

"Gideon, you're too sweet. Careful, she might fall for you AGAIN!"

"You see that dress? Girl's been planning your wedding since forever. Dream big, huh?"

If this was the old me, I'd be in tears—begging him to quit, asking him not to do this again.

This time, I took the five bucks.

"Thanks. Filing fee's thirty-five—I'm short four. We'll call it your contribution."

Gideon froze, then laughed like I was comedy gold.

"Madison, did you leave your brain at home? You really think I'd marry you? I'm messing with you. You're beyond pathetic."

He shook his head, like just looking at me was gross.

Even though I'd braced for it, his words still sliced right through.

Truth was, I found out about the bet last night.

He called me, sounding weirdly soft. "Madison, meet me at city hall at nine. Got a big birthday gift for you. Dress up a little—wear that new wedding dress. Bring your documents. Don't be late."

I hung up with my heart racing.

I'd just posted about trying on and buying a wedding dress.

Did he