Delia frowned and muttered a curse under her breath.
"That worthless piece of trash. Acting like he ever cared about you. If he cared even a little, he wouldn't have cheated on you twice while you were pregnant!"
I had no interest in watching any more of it. I just pulled her up by the hand.
"Come on. Let's go home."
The next morning, at first light, Jude—who hadn't come home all night—pushed open the bedroom door and hauled me straight out of bed.
His voice was cold.
"I'm going to give Bridget the wedding she deserves."
"She's trying on gowns today and getting the reception ready. It's her first time dealing with any of this, so she has no experience. You'll go and be her assistant."
His grip left my wrist throbbing, and whatever sleep was left in me was gone.
Last night he hadn't found the breakdown he'd wanted on my face, so today he'd switched to a new way to cut me.
When I walked into the venue, a flicker of triumph crossed Bridget's eyes.
Jude said flatly,
"She's your assistant today. Anything dirty or exhausting, hand it to her."
Bridget looped her arm through his at once and cooed,
"Jude, this train is too long. I really do need someone to hold it up for me."
Jude looked at me.
"Didn't you hear? Go hold her train."
I bent over my belly, and the second my fingers touched the fabric, Bridget took two steps forward.
I gritted my teeth and went after her, and she quickened her pace again as if by accident, keeping me chasing the train in circles with one hand braced on my stomach.
After a few rounds, cold sweat beaded on my forehead and the color drained from my face.
The stylist beside us couldn't stand it and said quietly,
"Mr. Gilbert, why don't I take over? Mrs. Gilbert is pregnant, after all."
Jude turned a hard look on her.
"She's willing to do it herself. Who asked anyone to interfere?"
The amusement in Bridget's eyes deepened. Then she said she was thirsty and sent me to fetch water.
I carried the glass over to her, and she let out a little shriek and threw the whole thing over me.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. My hand slipped."
The hot water soaked through my clothes.
Under all those mocking, contemptuous stares, I curled my fingers into my palm,
clenched my jaw, and said, "It's fine."
Seeing that I was still holding it in,
Jude's brow furrowed, and he ordered, "Bring over the gift I prepared."
The moment the box opened, both Bridget and I froze.
Inside lay a somewhat worn wedding gown and a ring whose color had long since dulled.
One look, and my eyes went hot.
This was the wedding gift Jude had given me.
That year, I sold the house my mother left me and used the three million to clear the Gilbert family's debts.
We'd agreed we would go get married the moment the debts were paid, but Jude disappeared for three months.
Then, three months later, he showed up at the door of our rented apartment, covered in dust,
holding this exact gown and this ring in his arms.
Only then did I learn he'd been hauling bricks at a construction site by day and washing dishes at a restaurant by night, saving up bit by bit for this wedding gift.
Jude decorated the rented apartment with a few strings of cheap balloons, knelt on one knee by the peeling wall, and slid the ring onto my finger.
His eyes were red as he said,
"Alma, you've already given up so much for me. When it comes to our marriage, I want to give you the best I possibly can."
"Wait for me a little longer. Someday I'll replace this gown and this ring with better ones."
I waited three years, then another three.
And what I got instead was coming home early from a prenatal checkup to find him tangled up with his newly hired secretary in my bed.
Seeing my eyes redden and my hands shake beyond control, the darkness on Jude's face lifted in an instant.
Bridget pouted and complained,
