Chapter 1 The Sounds of the Restroom
# Chapter 1: The Sounds of the Restroom
I wasn't supposed to hear them. The wedding choir's angelic voices should have drowned out everything else as I walked across the stone pathway in my custom-made wedding gown. My wine-red Louboutins clicked against the ancient stones of the Monette family vineyard in Southern France, each step bringing me closer to what everyone called a fairy tale ending.
But fairy tales don't usually include the bride overhearing her groom fucking her maid of honor in a bathroom.
I paused outside the small chapel's restroom, my hand hovering over the door handle. The sounds were unmistakable – Odessa's muffled whimpers, Gideon's rhythmic breathing. I didn't need to see them. Three years with Gideon had taught me the cadence of his passion, the way his breath caught just before he climaxed. And Odessa – my closest friend since business school – I recognized the way she suppressed her moans, keeping them low and throaty.
I should have been devastated. I should have screamed, thrown things, created the scene everyone secretly hopes for at perfect weddings. Instead, I felt ice crystallizing around my heart, a strange calm settling over me like the morning mist that blanketed the vineyard's rolling hills.
Ten minutes. That's how long I stood there, listening to my future falling apart behind a mahogany door. When it finally opened, Gideon emerged first, his cheeks flushed, two buttons of his collar undone. He froze when he saw me, horror dawning across his handsome features.
"Clarette—" he started, voice cracking.
Behind him, Odessa appeared, head down, clutching my wedding bouquet in her trembling hands. White peonies and blood-red roses, now slightly crushed from being pressed between their bodies. The irony wasn't lost on me.
"I found this," she whispered, extending the flowers toward me, unable to meet my eyes. "I was bringing it to you."
I smiled. Not the wounded smile of a betrayed bride, but something colder, something that made Gideon step back slightly.
"Thank you," I said, taking the bouquet, voice steady as a surgeon's hand. "How thoughtful of you both."
Confusion flickered across their faces – they had expected tears, rage, cancellation. Not this eerie composure.
Gideon recovered quickly, straightening his tie, switching to the charming businessman I'd fallen for three years ago.
"We should go in, darling. Everyone's waiting." He extended his hand to me, as if nothing had happened, as if I hadn't just witnessed the destruction of our vows before they were even spoken.
I nodded, placing my hand in his. His palm was still warm from Odessa's skin.
"Yes," I agreed. "We shouldn't keep them waiting."
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But in my mind, wheels were already turning, calculations being made. This wasn't just betrayal; it was opportunity. The Monette family vineyard, the empire Gideon stood to inherit, the dynasty I had worked so hard to become part of – none of it would slip through my fingers because of a bathroom tryst.
As we walked toward the chapel, I remembered something that had happened just thirty minutes earlier. The memory washed over me like the rich Cabernet Sauvignon the Monette family was famous for.
I had been in the wine cellar, supposedly retrieving a vintage bottle for the ceremony – a family tradition. Instead, I found myself pressed against an oak barrel by Callum Monette, Gideon's father. His body was harder than his son's, tempered by decades of ambition and power rather than privileged leisure.
"You look beautiful," he had whispered, his breath warm against my neck, fingers tracing the lace of my bodice. "Too beautiful to waste on a boy who doesn't understand what he has."
"Your son loves me," I had replied, not moving away, curious about where this dangerous game might lead.
Callum's laugh was low, vibrating through my chest where he pressed against me. "My son loves the idea of you. I love what you truly are."
His lips had brushed my ear as he delivered his ultimatum: "You dare say 'I do,' and I'll bury you in this barrel tonight."
Now, walking toward my wedding with Gideon's hand in mine, I realized I was caught between father and son – one who couldn't be faithful, and one who couldn't be resisted.
As the chapel doors opened and the wedding march began, I made my decision. I would say those two words today. But what came after would be entirely on my terms.
I would destroy them all, starting with their hearts.
