Heartbreak In Heels

POV: Hazel

The very next morning, my phone was absolutely losing its mind. The Thorne family group chat was blowing up so fast my screen looked like a malfunctioning slot machine.

*Mom: Can't wait to see your fiancé, sweetie!!*

*Aunt Diane: Omg!!! Piper said he’s GORGEOUS. Bring him to me.*

*Piper: Eeeee! So happy for you, Haze! Can't wait!*

I glared at the glowing screen on my desk, violently rolling my eyes at those last two messages. It wasn't exactly like Piper intimately knew what Victor looked like—except for the fact that she was actively stalking his social media now. And Caleb, my lovely ex-boyfriend and her husband-to-be, was probably right there doing the exact same thing over her shoulder.

All around me, the rhythmic clatter of keyboards filled the open-plan office. Phones rang left, right, and center. The air was thick with the scent of cheap breakroom caffeine and printer toner. I hunched over my desk, desperately trying to look busy while my cell phone aggressively vibrated against the faux wood. If this racket kept up, my boss, Thatcher Belmont, wouldn't hesitate for a single second to hand me a termination letter.

Another ping echoed loudly. A couple of my coworkers shot me the ultimate stink eye. I hastily grabbed the device and flipped the silent switch, exhaling a long, ragged breath.

The damage was already done. The gossip had breached the containment zone of my family and infected the entire town. Valcrest was officially on fire. Word had spread through the grapevine like a nasty spring pollen: *Hazel Thorne is finally coming home with a man.* For the second time in her entire life. But this time, she was arriving with a fiancé. A dangerously charming, incredibly wealthy fiancé named Victor Sterling.

My ex was marrying my sister, and in a momentary lapse of sanity, I had panicked myself into inventing the lie of the century. There was absolutely no turning back now.

A sharp knock landed squarely on my cubicle partition.

I blinked, snapping out of my spiral.

A fresh-faced intern hovered awkwardly at my desk, balancing an elegant, incredibly heavy black box in his hands. It was the exact kind of high-end packaging that practically whispered *filthy rich* from three feet away. Though, looking at the sleek matte finish and sharp edges, it also kind of looked like the way a supervillain might ship a bomb.

"Delivery for you, Hazel," the intern said, thrusting it forward.

I stared at it, not moving a muscle. "Is it ticking?"

The intern gave a half-hearted shrug. "If it is, it’s ticking in cursive. Just take it."

I eyed the luxurious box with extreme suspicion. "Does it say who it's from on the label?"

He shrugged again, clearly not paid enough to care, and walked away. Immediately, I felt the prickling sensation of a dozen eyes on me. My colleagues were literally craning their necks over their monitors, whispering to each other, trying to get a better look at my mystery package.

"Great. Just what I need. An audience," I muttered under my breath.

I grabbed the box. It wasn't quite as heavy as I had initially expected, but it possessed a certain substantial weight. I ducked my head, speed-walking past the nosy onlookers, and made a beeline straight for the women's restroom. I found an empty stall at the very back, locked the heavy metal door, and set the mysterious black box down on the closed toilet lid.

Taking a deep breath to steady my racing pulse, I carefully unwrapped the packaging. There was no greeting card taped to the outside. I lifted the heavy lid.

Inside, nestled perfectly in layers of crisp, expensive black tissue paper, was a dress.

But this wasn't just *a* dress. This was a weapon.

I pulled it free, the luxurious silk cascading over my hands like water. It was a showstopping, breathtaking emerald green. The design featured a daringly low neckline, a completely bare back, and a viciously high thigh slit that practically demanded everyone's undivided attention. It was the kind of garment that announced the wearer's arrival long before they ever opened their mouth. The rich fabric was designed to cling to the skin, emphasizing every single curve and contour.

"Holy shit," I breathed into the empty stall.

Beneath the folds of the silk lay a thick, cream-colored cardstock note. The handwriting was etched in smooth, clean strokes of deep black ink that somehow managed to smell exactly like expensive cologne and pure arrogance.

*Figured if we’re going to sell this, you need to look like heartbreak in heels. You don't have to sell your car… – V.*

My hands visibly trembled as I read the short, punchy note three times over. Without even thinking, I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed his number.

He picked up on the second ring, his tone infuriatingly smooth. "You got it?"

"Victor..." My voice came out cracked and breathless. I stared at the silk pooled in my hands. "This dress... it looks like it belongs on a celebrity red carpet. Not at a backyard wedding in Valcrest."

"Exactly," Victor replied seamlessly.

"I didn't even think you were actually paying attention to me last night when I was ranting."

"I'm always listening to you, Haze."

I swallowed hard, tracing the delicate stitching along the daring neckline. "Victor, seriously. How much did this cost?"

He didn't miss a single beat. "Enough to ruin your sister’s day."

I paused, processing the sheer audacity of his words, before a loud burst of genuine laughter slipped out of my mouth, echoing off the bathroom tiles.

"You’re completely insane," I whispered.

"You’re welcome," he countered, his voice dropping into that confident, steady cadence that always made my stomach flip. "Listen to me. You’re not walking into that wedding looking like some pathetic cautionary tale. You’re walking in like a fucking event."

My heart thudded hard against my ribs, beating a frantic rhythm. A wave of overwhelming gratitude and sudden, intense empowerment washed over me. "I could honestly kiss you right now."

"You will," Victor promised, his tone unbothered and dangerously steady. "In front of your entire family. Repeatedly."

"Oh, God..." I groaned, pressing a hand to my flushed forehead. "You make it sound so much worse when you say it with that tone."

"And your ex too," Victor added casually, an audible smirk in his voice.

"Okay, that part I'm actually excited for." I laughed again, clutching the green silk to my chest. Then, I remembered the cliffhanger from last night. "Speaking of the devil... Caleb is still texting you?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Victor sighed, sounding deeply inconvenienced. "The guy is relentless. I get the distinct vibe he suspects we're lying, or he thinks one of us is using the other. He's actively trying to poke holes in our story."

"What? Why would he do that?"

"Well, the dude does know you... on a much deeper level," Victor winced slightly through the speaker. "He claims to be 'so happy' for us, but then he immediately turns around and lets me know that you used to tell him you'd never date a guy like me. What's up with that, by the way?"

My palms instantly became sweaty. My grip on the phone tightened. Caleb was trying to sabotage me before I even stepped foot in my hometown. "And what exactly did you say to him?"

"Me? I was perfectly polite. Completely unfazed." Victor chuckled darkly. "I just told him how much fun he must be at therapy."

I burst out into a loud, echoing fit of laughter right in the middle of the bathroom stall. "Oh my god. I can only imagine his stupid face reading that."

"You know, you totally could have picked Bryce from Northpeak Nexus to be your fake fiancé," Victor suggested playfully. "Or Derek from HR. The more mysterious the guy, the better the lie."

"They're both my exes, Victor! Everyone on that darn family group chat knows exactly when and why I broke up with both of them. Besides, Derek only lasted long enough to serve one very specific, very disappointing purpose."

"Gross. Please don't remind me." I could perfectly picture Victor wrinkling his nose in utter disgust. "Where are you, anyways? It echoes. You're not at your desk, are you?"

"Nope. Hiding in the bathroom stall. Considering my morning peace was squashed by my family's obsession, I'm savoring what little sanity I have left before I'm thrust into the raging inferno of Thorne family drama."

"All fun is good fun, love. I'll try to enjoy Valcrest and its endless entertainment."

"I highly doubt that."

"Baby," Victor said, his voice turning warm, low, and incredibly commanding. "I’m about to be the realest fake man you’ve ever had."

A shiver raced down my spine. "I can't wait."

"Well, I gotta go. There's a hot blonde winking right at me across the street. I'm about to get lucky... I’ll text you later, love!" He fired off the words rapidly, hanging up before I could even formulate a response.

Typical Victor. Always playing the charming playboy, even while buying me a dress that probably cost more than my rent.

Feeling undeniably bold and riding the high of his unwavering support, I stepped out of the stall and walked over to the large office mirrors above the sinks. I held the luxurious emerald silk flush against my body. The color brought out an inner fire I didn't know I possessed. I snapped a quick, confident selfie, framing the dress perfectly against my figure.

I opened my chat with the bride of nightmares, typing out a message dripping with fake innocence.

*Hey, Pipes, just checking—this is the exact shade of green you wanted, right? I know how incredibly particular you get about shades.*

I pressed send. I stood there, watching the screen. The three typing bubbles immediately began dancing across the bottom of the chat. I waited. And waited.

Suddenly, the bubbles disappeared.

An ominous little microphone icon appeared in its place.

*Voice note incoming…*

A heavy pit of dread settled in my stomach. Nothing good ever happens when Piper resorts to voice notes. It meant she couldn't contain her venom within mere text.

I hesitated. I actually walked back to my desk, stared at my computer screen, and avoided my phone for an entire freaking hour before I finally grabbed my headphones, plugged them in, and hit play.

Piper’s sickly sweet, passive-aggressive venom instantly poured through the speakers, coating my ears in pure toxicity.

*"Haze... I think that dress is a little too low-cut. It looks like you’re… well, seeking attention? You’re going to look like you’re actively trying to upstage me, Hazel. Not like that's even physically possible, obviously, but then… I just had to be honest as your sister."*

I gritted my teeth, my jaw locking tight.

*"That color’s just too… dramatic,"* the voice note continued, sneering through a veil of fake concern. *"I didn't know it'd be this prominent when I imagined the color palette. But I'll take that fault. And honestly, sis? That dress looks way too good for you. It's wearing you. And what is up with that slit? Would your pride even survive if your vertigo knocks you around a little bit in those heels? Well, you're one tough old cookie, Haze."*

There was a brief, loaded pause. I could practically hear her venomous gears turning. Then came the final, brutal insult.

*"How did you even afford that dress? Never mind. I really don't want to know the gory details. Gotta go! Love you, sis!"*

The audio clipped off.

My hands trembled, but this time, it wasn't from shock or gratitude. It was pure, unadulterated rage. My breathing turned erratic, my chest heaving as a boiling, vengeful fury ignited in my veins.

*Too good for me? Seeking attention? How did I afford it?*

How dare that little witch. She stole my boyfriend, paraded him around, and now she was trying to strip away the one ounce of confidence I had managed to scrape together for her godforsaken wedding. Victor's empowering words clashed violently with her insults, leaving behind a smoking crater of sheer determination.

Oh, Piper. You want dramatic? I’ll give you dramatic.

I stared at the black box on the floor by my desk, the green silk safely tucked inside. This wasn't just a wedding anymore. The lines had been drawn. The shots had been fired.

This was war.

And may the best groom win.