Page 102 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

KAT: The annulment window just closed

KAT: I’m so sorry

A lump lodges in my throat, sharp and unmovable. The final nail in the coffin.

Connor exhales sharply, runs a hand over his jaw. Then, with a voice colder than I’ve ever heard, he asks the only question that matters:

"How long?"

And just like that, everything falls apart.

25

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS (AND OTHER FIRST WORLD DISASTERS)

CONNOR

The thing about betrayal is that it comes in waves.

First wave: Shock. Standing in an obscenely beautiful nightclub, watching myself walk away, trying to process words like "marriage" and "legal" and "lying."

Second wave: Denial. Surely there's an explanation. Surely she wouldn't...

Third wave: The memory of her face when Will said “legally binding.”

She knew.

She knew the whole time.

"Connor?" Callum appears beside me, all deadly grace and careful calculation. "Perhaps you two should take this talk somewhere more private?"

I barely hear him over the roaring in my ears. The air is thick—too thick—like I’m breathing in smoke, like the ground beneath me isn’t real.

Ariana doesn’t anything. Doesn’t answer my question. Doesn’t move.

So I do.

I start walking, pushing through the velvet ropes, past the line of waiting socialites, past everything I thought I understood about trust.

About her.

"Connor, wait!"

Ariana’s voice cuts through the night air, but I don’t stop.

Not until I’m outside, not until the music fades into a distant throb, not until the Mediterranean breeze cools the burn under my skin.

"Please." Her heels click against the stone path as she catches up, breathless. "Let me explain."

I turn, and fuck, she looks beautiful. Even now. Even like this. Wild dark hair. Mascara smudged from tears I refuse to believe are for me. The sequined dress that started this whole mess.

“Connor, please.” Her voice is soft, desperate.

I should want an explanation. I should demand one. But what’s the point? The damage is done.

“You knew,” I say quietly, my voice steadier than I feel. “You knew the whole time.”

She flinches, and something in me cracks. I trusted her. That was the mistake.

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