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Revenge Marriage: The Jilted Ballerina's Comeback Novel Cover

Revenge Marriage: The Jilted Ballerina's Comeback

I stood in the ballroom of the Pierre Hotel, holding a champagne flute that felt like a fragile anchor against a rising tide of anxiety. Across the room, the crowd of New York's elite parted as my fiancé, Campbell Brock, stepped onto the stage to announce a historic merger-and a shocking engagement to someone else. "I am proud to announce my engagement to Kandice Rose," he said, pulling the "real" daughter of the family into his arms while looking right through me as if I were a ghost. I dropped my glass, the crystal shattering at my feet, but the public humiliation was only the beginning. By the next morning, I was a viral meme dubbed the "Meltdown Girl," and the American Ballet Theatre had suspended me from my position as principal dancer for "moral turpitude." My bank accounts were frozen, my reputation was in tatters, and Kandice was on a livestream tearfully claiming I was a jealous foster girl who had tried to seduce Campbell behind her back. I had spent four years building a life with this man, only to be discarded like a piece of old wallpaper the moment a better business deal came along. How could the man who promised me a future turn me into a national joke overnight, and why was the world so eager to believe I was the villain in my own tragedy? When my high school best friend, the notorious billionaire playboy Charlton Bernard, found me drinking tequila in a dive bar, he didn't offer me a shoulder to cry on. He slid a marriage contract across the table and pressed a black titanium credit card into my hand. "Marry me for a year, Daphne," he said, his eyes burning with a dark, protective intensity that made my heart race. "We'll join their reality show as newlyweds and show the world exactly who the real winner is." I looked at the card, then at the man who had always been my shadow, and realized that being sensible had only gotten me dumped on a stage. "Let's go get married."
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Chapter 8

Inside the boutique, the air smelled of lavender and money.

Daphne stood in front of a three-way mirror. She was wearing a suit. Not a boring beige office suit.

It was red. Crimson. Blood red.

The jacket was tailored to within an inch of its life, nipping in at her waist and flaring out. The pants were wide-legged and powerful.

She looked in the mirror. She didn't look like a victim. She looked dangerous.

The manager walked over, holding an iPad. Her expression was grave.

"Mr. Bernard thought you should see this," she said gently.

Daphne took the tablet.

It was a live stream. Kandice Rose.

Kandice was sitting on a beige sofa, clutching a tissue. Her eyes were red-rimmed.

"I tried," Kandice sobbed, wiping a tear that wasn't there. "I tried to be a sister to her. But she was always so... jealous."

Daphne's grip on the iPad tightened.

"She tried to seduce Campbell," Kandice whispered, looking directly into the camera. "While I was in the hospital recovering. She tried to steal him."

It was a lie. A blatant, verifiable, disgusting lie. Kandice had been in the hospital for a nose job, not an illness. And Daphne had been engaged to Campbell for four years.

But the comments were scrolling by so fast they were a blur.

Die Daphne.

Ungrateful brat.

Team Kandice.

Daphne's hands shook. The red suit suddenly felt like a costume.

A notification popped up at the top of the screen. An email.

From: ABT Board of Directors.

Subject: Immediate Suspension Pending Investigation.

Daphne tapped it open.

...due to conduct unbecoming of a principal dancer... moral turpitude clause... effective immediately.

Her breath hitched.

Her career was her life. It was the only thing that was truly hers. And Kandice was taking that too.

The manager watched her sympathetically. "Water, Ms. Flynn?"

Daphne stared at the screen.

Silence wasn't working. Taking the high road wasn't working. It was killing her.

She recalled Fiona's words: Use the weapon.

She handed the iPad back to the manager. Her hand was steady now.

"I'll take the suit," she said. Her voice was ice cold. "And the black dress. And the heels. The highest ones you have."

"Of course."

Daphne pulled out the Black AMEX.

She swiped it.

Beep.

APPROVED.

The sound was intoxicating. It was the sound of power.

She pulled out her phone and called Charlton.

He answered on the first ring. "Are you okay?"

"Did you see Kandice's video?" she asked.

"I'm having it taken down for defamation as we speak," Charlton replied. "My legal team is on it."

"No," Daphne stopped him. "Leave it up."

"Leave it?" Charlton sounded surprised.

"I want everyone to see her lie," Daphne said. She looked at herself in the mirror. The red suit blazed. "So when I crush her, they know exactly why."

She took a deep breath.

"I'm in, Charlton. I'll marry you. I'll do the show."

There was a pause on the line. She heard him exhale, a long, shaky sound that sounded like relief.

"Good choice, Mrs. Bernard," he said. His voice was thick with emotion she couldn't place. "I'll pick you up in twenty."

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