Chapter 3Trained to KO My Bridesmaid

Two days before the ceremony, Garrett’s mother paid me an unexpected visit.

She marched into my apartment carrying a plastic bag of bruised, discounted apples, sat herself down on my custom sofa, and crossed her legs with an air of absolute authority.

“Flora, dear, we need to talk about a small matter,” she began, her tone dripping with artificial sweetness.

“That brownstone you’re living in—your parents bought that outright before you met Garrett, correct? Well, now that you’re marrying my son, you’re going to be a family. It’s incredibly tacky for a family home to only have one person’s name on the deed.”

I set my teacup down, remaining completely silent.

“Sabrina was actually telling me the other day,” she continued, dismissive of my silence, “that a truly modern, loving wife doesn’t keep secrets from her husband. A little generosity now will bring you so many blessings down the road.”

Sabrina said.

An outsider was dictating the terms of my life, and my future mother-in-law saw absolutely nothing wrong with it.

I forced myself to draw a slow, deep breath, letting a sweet, compliant smile spread across my face.

“You’re absolutely right, Mom. Do you have the deed transfer paperwork? I can take it to the title company first thing tomorrow.”

The older woman beamed, reaching into her designer knockoff purse to pull out a pre-drafted quitclaim deed. She had been carrying it around, just waiting for this exact moment.

I took the papers and escorted her to the door.

The moment the lock clicked shut, the smile fell from my face.

I didn’t take the paperwork to a title company to add Garrett’s name. I took it to a private lender.

The brownstone was valued at 1.2 million dollars. Within four hours, I had secured a cash-out home equity line of credit for eight hundred thousand dollars.

The funds cleared by mid-afternoon, and I immediately wired the entire balance into Naomi’s offshore savings account.

In my past life, Garrett had successfully transferred the deed after my accident and sold the property, leaving me with nothing.

This time, he wouldn't get so much as a single brick.

When I returned home that evening, Garrett was surprisingly present in the kitchen. He handed me a steaming mug of dark, herbal tea.

“You’ve been looking so tired lately, babe,” he said, his eyes filled with a terrifyingly familiar warmth. “I brewed you some chamomile and valerian root. Drink up, get a good night’s sleep, and you’ll be the most stunning bride tomorrow.”

I took the mug. Beneath the heavy scent of honey, there was a bitter, chemical undertone.

In my past life, this was the exact tea that had put me into a dead sleep for twelve hours, giving him and Sabrina all the time they needed to coordinate the setup of the MMA cage at the venue.

I lifted the mug to my lips, pretending to take a long sip. The moment he turned his back to rinse a spoon, I spat the liquid into a dry paper towel, folding it quickly and stuffing it into my pocket.

“Thank you, sweetie. It’s perfect,” I murmured.

Garrett’s eyes flared with a brief, victorious light. “Get some rest, then. Big day tomorrow.”

He grabbed his coat and walked down the hall to the guest room, locking the door behind him. I pressed my ear to the wall, listening.

“Sabrina? Yeah, she drank it. Out like a light,” he whispered into the receiver. “Everything is set for tomorrow.”

I heard Sabrina’s faint voice filter through the drywall. “Garrett, when she gets in the ring, do you think I should aim for her left temple or her right?”

Garrett chuckled. “Whatever makes you happy, babe. It’s not like she’ll be using either side of her brain after tomorrow anyway.”

I walked back to my bedroom, locked the door, and opened my laptop.

I spent the next two hours organizing every piece of evidence I had gathered over the past month into a beautifully formatted presentation.

I titled the file: Portrait of a Groom.

I set a digital timer on the media server, linking it directly to the ballroom’s main projection system.

When I finally closed the laptop and lay down, I didn’t feel fear.

I felt like a blade that had finally been polished to a lethal edge.