Chapter 3: Sixty Seconds
Marcus picked up on the second ring.
"Claire.
Shouldn't you be getting married right now?"
"I need you to freeze the bridge loan."
A pause.
Long enough that I could hear the ambient noise of wherever he was — a restaurant, voices, the soft clink of glassware.
"Come again?"
"The forty-two million.
The draw is scheduled for Monday.
I need you to hold it."
Another pause.
This one different.
"Claire, that loan closes in seventy-two hours.
Ethan's team has already—"
"Marcus." I kept my voice flat.
"I am the co-signatory on that agreement.
You know that.
I need you to hold it until I instruct you otherwise."
Behind me, I heard Ethan move.
"Who are you calling?"
I turned so my back was fully to the room.
"Marcus, do you understand what I'm asking?"
"I understand what you're asking," he said carefully.
"I need to understand why."
"Because I am standing in a bridal suite watching my fiancé hold his best friend's wrist while she wears my grandmother's ring and my wedding dress, and he just said 'And?' when I listed the one hundred sixty people waiting downstairs for a wedding that is not going to happen."
The glassware sounds stopped.
"Say that again."
"You heard me."
"Claire—"
"Hold the loan, Marcus."
A beat.
Then: "It's held."
I ended the call and turned around.
Ethan's face had changed.
The casual lean against the vanity was gone.
He was standing straight, both hands at his sides, and something behind his eyes had shifted from irritation into something that looked almost like calculation.
"Who was that?"
"Marcus Webb."
The color left his face in a single, visible wave.
"You called Marcus."
"I did."
"On our wedding day."
"You said 'And?' Ethan.
To my face.
On our wedding day."
Savannah made a soft sound.
"Ethan, maybe we should—"
"Don't." He didn't look at her.
He was still looking at me.
"What did you tell him?"
"To hold the bridge loan."
"You can't do that."
"I just did."
His jaw worked.
"Claire.
That loan closes Monday.
If it doesn't fund, the Series B falls apart.
The whole round collapses.
Do you understand what you've just done?"
"I understand exactly what I've done."
"You will destroy seven years of work over a dress."
The word landed like he'd meant it to.
Small.
Dismissive.
A dress.
I looked at Savannah's left hand.
"Give me my grandmother's ring."
Savannah glanced at Ethan.
He gave the smallest nod.
She slid the ring off and held it out.
I took it.
Closed my fingers around it.
The metal was warm from her skin and I hated that.
"Ethan," I said.
"I need you to hear me very clearly."
"Claire—"
"This is not about the dress.
This is not about Savannah.
This is about the fact that you have spent five years making me feel like I was the problem every time I asked you to choose me.
And today you chose her.
In a room.
On the day we were supposed to get married.
In front of your mother with her phone up."
Diane lowered the phone at last.
Ethan's voice dropped.
"You're overreacting."
"Your investors are downstairs, Ethan."
He blinked.
"Go tell them the wedding is postponed.
I'll wait here."
He didn't move.
"Go," I said.
"Or I call Marcus back and tell him to cancel it entirely."
Savannah took one step toward him.
"Ethan—"
"Don't follow him," I said.
Not to Ethan.
To her.
"You and I need to talk."
Savannah's wounded expression flickered.
For just a moment, something harder showed underneath.
Ethan walked out.
The door closed.
May you like
And Savannah Blake looked at me with the soft expression completely gone.
"How much do you actually know?" she said.
