CHAPTER 1: THE TASTE OF BUTTERCREAM AND BETRAYAL
The ballroom glowed beneath the warm, golden light of a thousand fairy lights, completely at odds with the cold dread slowly building inside me. I stood in the middle of the dance floor, a microphone trembling in my hand. I had just delivered the hardest speech of my life—a tearful, heartfelt tribute to my late father. He had built the software empire I now managed, and his absence on my wedding day felt like a physical wound in my chest.
Beside me stood Derek, looking every bit the flawless American groom in his tailored tuxedo. He wiped away one perfectly timed tear as the two hundred guests responded with a sympathetic murmur.
Then the cake arrived. A towering five-tier creation of vanilla bean and raspberry, sitting on a heavy wooden platform.
The first thing my husband did after we cut the first slice was grab the back of my neck. His fingers dug into my nape with an iron grip. Before I could understand the sudden change in his behavior, he forced my face downward.
It wasn’t a playful smear. It was a violent shove.
My face slammed into the cake, but I didn’t hit only soft sponge. My cheekbone struck one of the thick wooden dowels buried inside the tiers for support. A sharp, blinding pain shot across my face.
For three seconds, I stayed completely still.
