The bachelorette party was in full swing,
laughter and clinking glasses filling the
elegant banquet hall of Parker's Restaurant.
Tyla Parker felt the room spin gently around her.
She'd had far too much champagne, far too quickly.
Tomorrow was her wedding day, the culmination of years with her fiancé, Jace. She shouldn't be this drunk.
Not tonight.
A wave of nausea hit her, and she pressed a hand to her stomach. "Excuse me, " she murmured to the cluster of friends around her, slipping away before anyone could protest.
In the hallway, she nearly collided with one of the servers—a young woman balancing a tray of empty flutes.
"Sorry!" Tyla gasped.
The server smiled warmly. "No worries, Miss Parker. You okay?"
Tyla nodded weakly and continued to the ladies' restroom.
Inside, she splashed cold water on her face at the sink, letting it trickle down her flushed cheeks. The coolness steadied her a little. She straightened, smoothing her dress in the mirror, then headed back to the party.
The hall buzzed with energy—family and friends toasting her future happiness.
But as Tyla scanned the room, she couldn't spot Jace.
He'd promised to stop by later, after his own low-key bachelor gathering with the guys.
She needed him now, needed his arms around her, his reassuring kiss. "Sweet Jace," she whispered to herself, her eyelids heavy. "Where are you?"
Unsteady on her feet, she drifted toward the exit, thinking fresh air might help.
Halfway there, muffled giggles and whispers caught her ear from a side corridor leading to the staff restrooms.
She paused, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Some people can't even wait for a room, " she thought, shaking her head.
But then a familiar voice froze her in place—low, intimate, unmistakably Jace's.
Curiosity overriding her haze, Tyla crept closer. The door to the staff restroom was ajar, a sliver of light spilling out. Peering through, her heart plummeted.
There was Jace, pressed against the wall with Edna—her best friend since culinary school, the woman she'd trusted above all others. They were locked in a heated embrace, kissing passionately, hands roaming with desperate urgency.
Edna pulled back slightly, breathless. "Let me have you one last time... while I still can."
Jace's fingers traced her jaw. "God, I've missed this. Missed you."
"Promise me, " Edna whispered, her voice fierce. "Promise you'll come back to me—to us—once you've got what you want from that spoiled little heiress."
Jace chuckled softly, leaning in to nip at her neck. "Baby, you know I will. I'm only marrying her for the empire. Once the papers are signed and I'm named full CEO of Parker's Restaurant chain, we'll push her out. I'll elevate you—make you the world's top chef, just like you deserve. Then we ditch her for good. But until then... we keep it quiet."
Edna giggled, pulling him closer. "Deal. As long as our little secret stays safe." Their laughter mingled as they kissed again, deeper this time.
Tyla's knees buckled. She gripped the wall to stay upright, the alcohol turning to ice in her veins. This couldn't be real. Sweet Jace—the man from a modest background she'd fallen for, the one she'd sacrificed everything to support. She'd abandoned her own dreams of being a chef after winning the prestigious Bon Appétit competition in France, becoming America's darling of the culinary world. When her father died, he'd willed the entire Parker empire to her—the restaurants that catapulted their family into the top ten richest in the country.
But Jace had convinced her to sign it all over to him in the prenup, claiming it was for "their future." He'd persuaded her to step back from the kitchen, handing the reins to Edna instead. And all this time... he'd been sleeping with her best friend? They had a child together?
Tears blurred her vision as the full weight crashed down. Betrayed by the two people she'd loved most. Tomorrow, she was supposed to marry him.
Silent sobs choking her, Tyla turned away, stumbling toward the exit. The night air hit her like a slap as she pushed through the doors, tears streaming freely now. She was a ghost of herself—shattered, alone.
Lost in grief, she stepped into the street without looking. Headlights flared, a horn blared, and tires screeched.
Would she even make it to the altar to confront him? Or had the betrayal already destroyed everything?