Love & Marriage in a Flash: My Sweet Strategist Chapter 1

I must have told my best friend to dump him a thousand times. In the end, I was the one drinking champagne at their wedding.

On the day of the wedding, I sat at the head table with the groom's chief strategist, auditing the damages on our phones.

Turns out, every time those two had a meltdown, we were the collateral damage.

Our chat histories were eerily identical.

[It's over. For real this time.]

[But what am I supposed to do? I can't stop thinking about him/her.]

The Groom's Strategist: [Get a new job. The circus is hiring clowns.]

Me: [You owe me emotional damages.]

* * *

I must have told my best friend to break up with him a thousand times. In the end, I was the one drinking champagne at their wedding.

The day the news dropped, my heart was a placid lake as I let out a hollow laugh—the kind you’d expect from a jaded queen in an old tragedy.

But as Grace Evans’ ride-or-die since we were kids, I showed up. I was her maid of honor, after all. I even came bearing a hefty check and a lavish wedding gift.

It was a joyous occasion, but I couldn't crack a smile.

Finally, Grace looked at me, her brow furrowed with concern. "Tracy, if you can't smile, don't. You look cool and mysterious with a straight face anyway."

"..."

Fine. My best friend might be a hopeless romantic, but she was marrying into a family whose net worth had more commas than a grammar textbook. Plus, she still loved me.

I could tolerate it.

When the groom's party arrived, I noticed one of the groomsmen looked even more miserable than I did. He seemed to fundamentally disapprove of this marriage.

He was handsome, though, in a completely different way from the groom. A single black stud gleamed in his left earlobe, accentuating his sharp, sculpted features. He had a roguish charm, and the tailored suit added a layer of dangerous sophistication.

One of the other bridesmaids noticed him and whispered to Grace, asking who he was.

And then I heard the name that had been a curse word in my vocabulary for years: Caleb Vance.

Just as I was Grace's best friend, this Caleb Vance was apparently the groom, Liam Foster's, childhood confidant.

For the longest time, I had harbored a bone-deep hatred for this man I’d never met, a hatred second only to my feelings for Liam himself. Because every time I thought those two were finally done for good, this damned Caleb would whisper some brilliant strategy into his friend’s ear, and that dog Liam would somehow win my best friend back.

He was the master strategist behind their reunion. This wedding should have been his ultimate victory.

So why the long face?

Was he trying to provoke me?