Chapter 1: The Voice Beneath the Bed
"Don't worry, Mom. She has no idea what we're doing.""
The sentence was still hanging in the air when my heart stopped.
I pressed both hands over my mouth as the mattress above me sank under Lorraine's weight. The wooden floor beneath my back felt like ice, even though the room was warm. My wedding dress was twisted around my legs, my veil was trapped beneath my shoulder, and every breath felt impossibly loud.
A few inches away, Lorraine Mercer's phone rested near the edge of the bed.
Its screen glowed in the darkness.
One word stared back at me.
*SAVANNAH.*
I had spent two years learning every detail about Owen Mercer.
His favorite coffee order. The song he always played when he cooked. The way he rubbed the back of his neck whenever he was nervous.
But I had never heard that name.
Not once.
And somehow, on the night I became his wife, I was hiding under our bed while his mother whispered about a woman I had never met.
A woman who sounded like she was part of a plan.
The strangest part?
Three hours earlier, I had been happier than I had ever been.
The ballroom had looked like something from a movie.
White roses climbed the walls. Hundreds of tiny lights hung from the ceiling like stars. My father's old jazz records played softly between speeches, and every person I loved stood beneath those lights watching me walk toward Owen.
I could still feel the weight of his hand around mine.
"Mara," he whispered as I reached him, "you look like you stepped out of a dream.""
I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.
"That's because you hired a very expensive makeup artist.""
He laughed.
"No. That's because you're you.""
That was Owen.
He knew exactly what to say.
And I believed every word.
During our first dance, he rested his forehead against mine while everyone watched.
"Can you believe this is real?"" he asked.
I looked around the room.
My best friend crying near the cake table. My father pretending he wasn't emotional. Owen's friends raising their glasses.
"Yes," I whispered.
"I can.""
I didn't know how wrong I was.
I met Owen two years earlier in a bookstore during a thunderstorm.
I had been standing in the history section, trying to decide whether I could justify buying another book when a stranger reached over me and grabbed the exact one I was holding.
Then he looked embarrassed.
"Sorry," he said.
"I didn't realize you had it.""
I raised an eyebrow.
"You just stole my book.""
He glanced at the cover.
"The Great Gatsby?""
"Yes.""
"That's unfortunate.""
"Why?""
"Because now I have to impress you enough that you'll let me have it.""
I laughed.
That was the beginning.
Owen had a way of making ordinary moments feel important.
He brought me coffee every Sunday morning. He remembered that I hated cilantro. He sent me pictures of dogs he saw on the street because he knew they made me smile.
When he proposed in the same bookstore where we met, surrounded by shelves of old novels and strangers pretending not to watch, I didn't hesitate.
"Yes," I said before he even finished the question.
Everyone told me I was lucky.
I believed them.
Even when Lorraine Mercer made it clear she disagreed.
Lorraine had a talent for cruelty disguised as kindness.
The first time she met me, she looked me up and down for several seconds before smiling.
"Mara, right?""
"Yes. It's nice to finally meet you.""
She touched my arm gently.
"You're very brave.""
I blinked.
"Brave?""
"Of course. Owen has always been surrounded by people with a certain lifestyle.""
She glanced around my apartment.
At my secondhand furniture. My shelves full of used books. The tiny kitchen where I cooked dinner for her.
"But confidence is important," she continued.
"Not everyone can carry themselves well without having much.""
I stood there, holding a plate of homemade pasta, trying to decide whether I had imagined the insult.
Owen noticed my expression afterward.
"Mom doesn't mean things the way they sound.""
I looked at him.
"She compared my apartment to a lack of ambition.""
He sighed.
"I know. I'll talk to her.""
And he did.
That was why I stayed.
Because every time Lorraine hurt me, Owen was there to fix the wound.
At least, I thought he was.
The night before the wedding, Lorraine hugged me during the rehearsal dinner.
It surprised me.
For once, she seemed genuine.
"I'm happy for you," she said.
I smiled.
"Thank you.""
She squeezed my hands.
"Marriage changes everything.""
Something about the way she said it made me uncomfortable.
"What do you mean?""
She smiled softly.
"You'll understand soon enough.""
I laughed nervously.
I thought she was talking about normal things.
Bills.
Responsibilities.
Learning to live with another person.
I never imagined she meant something else.
After the reception ended, Owen kissed me in the doorway of the hotel suite.
"I have to help Daniel with something downstairs," he said.
I looked at him suspiciously.
"On our wedding night?""
He laughed.
"It's important.""
"What could possibly be important right now?""
He leaned closer.
"My best man is apparently having a crisis involving a missing wallet.""
I rolled my eyes.
"Your friends are unbelievable.""
"I'll be back in ten minutes.""
He kissed my forehead.
"Don't fall asleep.""
I smiled.
"Never.""
The second he left, I looked around the room.
For the first time all day, everything was quiet.
No music.
No cameras.
No guests.
Just me.
I looked at the enormous bed covered in rose petals and laughed.
It was ridiculous.
The whole day had been so serious. The vows. The speeches. The tears.
I wanted one silly memory.
One thing only Owen and I would know.
So I grabbed my phone, turned on the camera, and hid beneath the bed.
I imagined his face when he walked in.
I imagined him laughing.
I imagined telling this story years later.
"I can't believe I married someone who thought hiding under a bed was romantic.""
I was still smiling when the door opened.
But it wasn't Owen.
The sound of sharp heels against the floor made my smile disappear.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Lorraine.
"What are you doing here?"" I heard Owen's mother ask someone.
Then silence.
A second later, another voice answered.
A man's voice.
Owen.
My stomach dropped.
"Mom, lower your voice.""
I froze.
Why was Owen with Lorraine?
Why were they in our room?
The mattress shifted as they sat down.
"I told you this was risky," Lorraine whispered.
Owen sighed.
"I know.""
"No, you don't. You have no idea how close you came to ruining everything.""
My fingers dug into the carpet.
Ruining what?
Owen's voice became quieter.
"She trusts me.""
The words should have comforted me.
Instead, they felt like a knife.
Lorraine gave a small laugh.
"That's because she's exactly what we needed.""
My entire body went cold.
"What does that mean?"" Owen asked.
"You know what it means.""
"No, Mom. Don't start.""
"I warned you three years ago. Savannah was never going to work.""
My eyes moved toward the phone on the floor.
The glowing screen still showed the name.
Savannah.
Owen stood up.
"We're not talking about this here.""
"Why not? She's downstairs?""
"No.""
A pause.
Then Lorraine asked the question that changed everything.
"Is Mara under the impression this marriage is real?""
I stopped breathing.
The room went silent.
I waited for Owen to defend me.
I waited for him to laugh.
I waited for him to say, "Of course it is.""
But instead...
He said nothing.
And in that silence, I heard the truth.
Not the truth about a fight.
Not the truth about a misunderstanding.
The truth about my entire marriage.
Then Lorraine whispered:
"Good. Because tomorrow, we start phase two.""
May you like
And Owen answered:
"Once Savannah gets back, Mara won't know what hit her.""
