Chapter 159

Kayla

The moment the door opened, Isabella swept inside, looking utterly ridiculous in a full fur coat. She shrugged it off and dropped it into the housekeeper’s arms with one hand, not even looking at him, then stopped in the center of the foyer.

“What happened?” Isabella asked, placing her hands on her hips and looking around. “The new decor doesn’t suit the architecture at all.”

I raised my eyebrows, exchanging an amused glance with Nicholas. He cleared his throat. “Maybe you should give back the stuff you stole, since you seem so invested in how we decorate,” he said.

Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll give it back when you allow us to move back in. It’s our home too, you know.”

Grinning, I placed my hand on her shoulder and guided her further into the house. “How is your current home, by the way?” I asked. “Paying rent okay? You know, we won’t hold it against you if you have to sell the stuff you took to afford it.”

Behind me, I heard Nicholas snort. Isabella gasped, clutching her hand to the pearls around her neck, but I quickly redirected her into the dining room, where Marcus was waiting in a suit. He poured her a glass of champagne and handed it to her right away, softening the blow of my insult.

A moment later, Liam walked in behind her, his eyes scanning the room before landing on me. The way he glanced at the tight-fitting dress on my body certainly wasn’t lost on me, but I held still, letting him look for a moment longer before I turned away.

Back when Liam and I were together, he hated whenever I wore anything revealing, or, Goddess forbid, sexy. It was ironic, the way he simultaneously wanted a sex icon and a modest woman wrapped up into one, and how he would ask me to cover up in public while insinuating that I do more for him in the bedroom.

All while he was screwing my best friend.

Speaking of the devil herself, Vanessa stepped into the room a moment later, clutching her small purse in her perfectly-manicured hands. My eyes snapped immediately to her, taking in the expensive designer dress she wore, the too-tall heels, the hair that had clearly been styled by a professional today.

She glanced at me—glanced and nothing more—before she strutted over to Marcus and said, “I’d like a glass of champagne, too.”

Marcus looked at me, and I nodded before turning to Nicholas. He looked like he was trying to hold in his laughter, his mouth twitching as he lingered in the dining room doorway. The three of them looked like they intended to come here and walk all over us as the picture of wealth when everyone present knew that they’d basically become destitute due to their own actions.

But that was the point, wasn’t it? To let them flaunt themselves, to make them think that they actually had a place in our lives again, at our table no less, when that couldn’t have been further than the truth.

Finally, we all took our seats, Nicholas and I at either end of the table. Isabella sat in the center of the left side, while Liam and Vanessa sat beside each other across from her.

“Thank you all for coming,” I said, flashing my best smile as I gestured for the cooks to bring forward the first course. I held up my glass while the covered trays were placed in front of us. “Nicholas and I wanted to invite you here as a thank-you for attending our wedding.”

Vanessa snorted into her champagne glass. I turned to her, my smile not faltering. “Oh, sorry, Vanessa. I forgot you weren’t invited to the wedding.”

Her face flushed, but I quickly returned my attention to the toast. Nicholas lifted his glass a little higher across the table, his eyes flickering with mischief as we all sipped.

Then, with a flourish, the chefs removed the covers from the dishes.

“Our first course of the night will be traditional Lunar Wedding Soup,” the head chef said, gesturing to the bowls of soup with spinach, fragrant miniature meatballs, and spiced broth. “Typically served at weddings to celebrate the earth—the green spinach—and the moon, as depicted by the meatballs. Enjoy.”

Isabella wrinkled her nose, picking at the soup. Liam stared at it for a moment, dumbfounded, before he dug in. Meanwhile, Vanessa scooped up a single meatball, eyeing it, before she popped it into her mouth and chewed daintily.

I turned to Isabella as we ate. “I hope the menu tonight is to your liking,” I said. “You know, at the wedding, you mentioned that a Luna should know how to throw a good party. And I realized you were right.”

She blinked, surprised, but quickly schooled her expression. “Yes, well, it’s about time someone realizes it,” she scoffed, reaching for her glass. “You have a lot to learn, but with the proper training, you might be able to throw a halfway decent party one day.”

“Surely I’ll learn from the best,” I said flatly.

After we were finished with the soup, we moved onto the second course: a decadent fettuccine alfredo. However, I quickly whispered something in the chef’s ear, and a moment later, he returned from the kitchen with a pair of scissors, which I began to use to cut up the pasta with gusto.

Nicholas looked like he was about to pass out from holding in his laughter. Behind him, Marcus had to turn away, disguising his chuckle as a cough.

“What are you doing?” Liam asked, looking horrified.

I flashed him a grin. “I prefer my pasta on the shorter side.” I pointed the scissors toward him with a giggle. “Not my men, though. But that’s not a problem these days.”

Nicholas’s knee hit the underside of the table, rattling the dishes. Marcus full-on left the room, and somewhere down the hall, I heard him laughing openly.

Liam’s face reddened in shame. Isabella’s hand twitched around the stem of her glass, probably more perturbed by the lack of manners than anything. Meanwhile, Vanessa suddenly went still, staring at me as I continued making a show of snipping the pasta with the scissors.

Just like she had cut up my dress.

“Much better,” I said, setting down the scissors once I was finished. I twirled my pasta around on my fork and took a big bite, holding Vanessa’s gaze the entire time as I chewed and swallowed. She looked like she was going to be sick.

Good, I thought as I watched her face turn ashen. This was what I wanted—a slow realization that she’d been caught being a conniving, backstabbing bitch again.

It was a courtesy to let her realize it slowly rather than all at once; a courtesy that I never got when I suddenly found her fucking my fiancee on the day of my wedding, when five minutes prior I had thought I was going to be a bride. A courtesy that I never got when she destroyed my dress the night before my second wedding.

Finally, the final course arrived. The chefs carefully placed each dish in front of us, leaving Vanessa for last. For Nicholas, Isabella, Liam, and myself, it was a delicate mousse that looked like it was fresh out of a cooking show.

But not for Vanessa.

I turned to her, my smile turning serpentine.

“Vanessa,” I said, gesturing as the head chef brought out her dish, “since you didn’t get to come to the wedding, I thought it would only be fair if you had a slice of the cake. We saved some, and it was really delicious. Remember when you helped me pick out my cake for the last wedding?”

Vanessa’s eyes widened. “Kayla, I—”

“Remember?” I repeated, slamming my hand flat on the table. The room went silent. Isabella nearly knocked her glass over, and Liam stared incredulously at my hand. Vanessa’s back went ramrod straight as the chef set her dish down. Even Nicholas seemed to hold his breath.

My smile returned. “Even if you don’t, I do,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “I remember it well, Vanessa. You suggested ordering the buttercream frosting rather than fondant. Said no one likes that ‘fake sugar shit’.”

Her mouth worked uselessly, but I wasn’t finished. “I actually chose fondant this time,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “But tonight, I added a little something… extra. Just for you.”

I then nodded to the head chef, who removed the lid on the dish to reveal a slice of white cake—or rather, what had once been a slice, but was now smashed to bits. And on top of it was a pile of scraps of white fabric.

My wedding dress.

The very same one that I knew she had cut up the night before the wedding.

Vanessa’s face went whiter than the remnants of my gown.