His Trial Bride, My Exit Plan

At my engagement party, Flora—my adopted sister—grinned and said, "Warren's never been married, right? I should marry him first so he gets the hang of it. Sounds good?"

Everyone was just waiting for me to fall apart.

I didn't care about them. I cared about him.

Warren laughed. "Let her have fun, Mia. Don't kill the vibe."

I smiled. "Sure. But if it's about fun... one wedding won't cut it.

"If you're gonna get married, make it forever."

I waved the butler over without missing a beat and said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Tell my dad Flora's marrying Warren. They can have the wedding next month."

Dead silence. Like someone hit mute on the whole party.

Warren blinked like I'd slapped him. "Mia, you're not serious."

Oh, he wasn't upset for me. He was just humiliated.

Flora fake-laughed, hand over her mouth, then draped her arm around me like we were besties. "It was just a joke, sweetie. Chill. If I were you, I'd just say yes. No need to embarrass Warren like this."

Whispers exploded.

"Exactly."

"She's so plain. Where's this confidence coming from?"

"You didn't hear? She and Warren were engaged as kids. Then she vanished. Her mom's dying wish was to bring her back. They just brought her back."

"But her dad already has Flora—the pretty one. Why would he care now?"

"No wonder he never shows her off."

Every word stung—until I went numb.

All those years gone, I clung to one thing: coming home. That dream kept me alive.

But when I did?

Everything was upside down.

Mom was gone. Dad only saw Flora.

Warren—my fiancé—acted like she mattered more. Anytime I needed him, one call from Flora and he was gone.

She was the golden girl. Perfect match for him.

Me? I was the weird one they dragged back.

No one saw what she was really like—sweet in public, cruel when no one was watching. She'd turn the staff on me, lock me out, humiliate me for fun.

She told me straight up: snitch to Dad, and she'd ruin me socially.

When I told Warren, he just shrugged. "She's used to being treated like a princess. You're overreacting."

To him, she was cute and "fun."

But when I talked about our future? He'd cut me off—"Why's it always about YOU?"

Ask him what he wanted? He'd act like I was speaking another language.

Just like now.

He shot me a glare. "Mia, stop making a scene."

I laughed, ice cold. "I'M making a scene? Didn't you say not to kill the vibe?"

He slammed his glass down, jaw tight.

Flora jumped in, all syrupy sweet. "It's my fault, Mia. If I hadn't joked. I forget how serious you—"

I smiled. "No, you're right. Warren's a joke. You two should totally marry—great practice run. I'm over him. Time for an upgrade."