Ryan thought he would return from his secret Hawaiian honeymoon to our $12 million Nashville mansion with his new bride—but before his plane even touched down, I had already decided that someone else would own the front door.
My name is Addison Vance, and I had spent nearly twelve hours at my desk that day.
Ryan was supposedly in Miami meeting developers.
That morning, I had texted him.
Hope the presentation goes well. Call me when you have a minute. Love you.
He never opened it.
While waiting for a file to upload, I opened Instagram.
Then I saw his mother’s post.
Ryan stood beneath an arch of white roses overlooking the ocean, wearing an ivory dinner jacket.
Beside him was Norah Lawson.
Blond.
Twenty-nine.
Pregnant, apparently.
And wearing a wedding dress.
I knew her because Ryan had personally recommended her for a marketing position six months earlier.
My mother-in-law Joyce stood proudly beside them.
