Chapter 11 Vanessa stood in front of the mirror, twirling slightly in the pale gold silk robe she had picked out for the bridal prep shoot. Her skin glowed. Her smile didn't falter. She was getting married- finally. And not just to anyone, but to Troy. The man she was supposed to marry five years ago. She glanced at the planner sprawled on the bed: flower arrangements, catering options, a fitting for her second gown. Everything was going smoothly. Her phone buzzed. A text from the bridal studio confirming her final fitting. She grinned wider This was it. The moment she had dreamed of all her life-except for that brief period five years ago, when she had run. Not many knew the truth. Not even Troy. Back then, she had already said yes. The wedding invitations were ready. Their families were celebrating. Taylor had helped her pick her dress, smiling softly, so proud of her. But Vanessa had been seeing someone else. Dean Monroe. He wasn't just rich. He was famous He owned fashion labels in Milan, hosted yacht parties in Mykonos, and had photographers Follow him like shadows. To Vanessa, he was everything she wanted Troy to be-ambitious glamorous, and fully connected to the world she craved. They had met in secret. Stolen moments behind hotel curtains. Lavish gifts. Champagne-soaked nights. 'You're not meant for small-town weddings," Dean had whispered in her ear one night, thei bodies tangled beneath satin sheets. "You're a goddess, Vanessa. Come with me. Milan is waiting." "What about Troy?" she'd whispered, breathless. Dean smiled lazily, brushing her hair from her face. "Do you really see yourself being a housewife? Folding laundry while your husband's late from work?" She didn't answer. She didn't need to. The night before her wedding to Troy, she left. No letter. N goodbye. Just vanished into Dean's private jet like a dream. For a while, it was everything she hoped. Fashion shows. Rooftop parties. Exclusive galas. Dean ntroduced her as "his muse," the next supermodel to watch. She loved the attention. The flashing cameras. The free clothes and flutes of champagne. But just three months in, things started to change. Dean became distant. Busier. Colder. Until one night, she walked into his penthouse after a shoot and saw him-shirtless, laughing- on the couch with another woman. A model. Younger. Blonder. Vanessa stood frozen in the doorway. Dean didn't even flinch. "Didn't anyone teach you to knock?" "I'm your girlfriend, she hissed. He laughed. "Oh, sweetheart. That was cute while it lasted." Her world shattered that night. The man she'd left everything for kicked her out within a week. The fame? Gone. The job offers? Gone. Her face was yesterday's news. And no one in Milan cared about a scandal-scarred dropout from a broken engagement back home. She was left penniless, friendless, and humiliated. For the next few years, she scraped by-catalog modeling, temp work, low-rent apartments. Too proud to call home. Too ashamed to admit she had made the worst mistake of her life. Until one day, she saw Taylor's smiling face online-standing beside Troy, wearing a ring that used to be hers. And Vanessa knew. She had to go back. And take everything back. Taylor had always been the one to steal what she wanted-her parents' affection, the best room in the house, the softer praises. Taylor was the "good girl," the dependable one, the sweet one Vanessa had been the storm. Unpredictable. Hard to love. So no, she couldn't allow that. She wouldn't let her little sister win. Not when she was the one porn to be adored. Coming home had been the easiest decision she made. She just had to cry, say she was sick and watch them all flock back around her. Even the brothers who once said they hated her-Var and Travis-had fallen for the act. And Troy? Well, Troy still loved her. He just needed a little push to remember it. Vanessa snapped out of her thoughts when she heard footsteps approaching her room. The door creaked open and Van peeked his head in. 'Hey," he said gently. "You okay? It's time." She turned, lifting her eyebrows. "Time for what?" 'Your meds," Travis said from behind him, holding a small cup of water and two white pills. Vanessa blinked. Then smiled sweetly. 'Oh, right," she said. "Thanks for reminding me." They walked toward her, and she obediently reached for the cup. Travis watched closely as she ilted her head back and drank. Swallowed the pills with one clean gulp of water. She even opened her mouth afterward to show she had taken it. Van nodded. "Good girl." 'We'll drive you to the hospital later," Travis added. "Just for a check-up. You've got to stay strong for the wedding, alright?" Vanessa nodded again. "Of course. Thanks, brothers." They smiled, satisfied, and left the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, Vanessa's soft smile twisted into a smirk. She walked over to the trash bin, leaned forward-and spat out the two wet pills she had kept hidden in her cheek. She grabbed a tissue, wrapped them up, and tossed them under the vanity drawer. "Idiots," she muttered. She walked toward the window and stared at the sun rising through the garden trees. She never had leukemia. It was all part of the plan. It worked. Now Taylor was gone. And she had everything. This was her moment now. And she wasn't going to let anyone ruin it.