Chapter 10 10

• “I’m not going,” I said flatly, staring out the window of our hotel suite as the sun began its slow descent over Manhattan.
• “You have to go,” Alessia muttered, sprawled on the bed with one leg dangling off the side. “You’re the glowing bride, remember? Enchanted. Ecstatic. Owned.”
• Sofia snorted from the couch, her legs tossed over the backrest like she was lounging in a music video. “Isabella, just show up, smile, eat the overpriced cake, and pretend you’re not marrying a psychopath. How hard can it be?”