Chapter 39 Conspiracy Theories Another day, another stupid fucking event. Of everything I’ve ever had to endure, nothing tested my self-control more than watching Dean move around like the perfect doting fiancé to Chloe. A Bluetooth speaker played a mix of Motown and old rock hits—Marvin Gaye melting into The Rolling Stones then into ABBA before swerving to Tina Turner. Everyone was grooving. Ever so often, Aunt Thelma would sway to the beat while carrying another plate of burgers to the table. Alyssa was dancing and singing to the lyrics that obviously reminded her of her first boyfriend, Troy, who nicknamed her ‘Dancing Queen’ back in high school. I chuckled at that. That however didn't last long. Dean twirled Chloe and everyone gushed, switching attention immediately. I groaned for the millionth time since today, swallowing the contents of my can in one gulp. They always have to find a way to steal the spotlight. Fucking hell. Dean laughed at something Chloe whispered in his ear and I squeezed my hand tightly. I've crushed at least two cans so far. I'm on my third now. His happiness made me imagine at least a hundred ways to kill him— right here, right now, in front of my family, at this fucking barbecue. Screw this stupid wedding. Everyone was smiling. Laughing. As if what happened earlier didn’t exist. They’d all trained themselves to play pretend so well, I almost wanted to applaud. Dean’s family was here too — Bethany, Franklin, Eli, and the rest of Dean's hateful clan— all part of the perfect, smiling tableau. How fucking perfect. A barbecue in honour of the world's most fantastic couple. I just want to throw up. The backyard was a haze of summer heat and smoke. Charcoal hissed, ribs sizzled, and the air was thick with the scent of meat that would cling to clothes for days. Chloe normally hated that. Nothing killed a designer perfume faster than bacon grease. But today she was all sunshine and giggles, doing TikTok dances with Emily— for the views of course. Emily kept fumbling the moves, more interested in her Barbie doll, while Chloe’s perfect veneers flashed for Dean every time he came over to dab her with a napkin. The whipped fool. Me? I was parked in the corner, next to the little tent Alyssa used to sneak her boyfriends into in high school, playing the bitter maid of honor. At this point I didn't need a broom nor a pointy hat to nail my part. Roman blended in easily— one hand in his pocket, the other holding a Heineken, chatting with my dad, Dean’s dad, and Uncle Jace about fishing trips and ridiculous court cases. The way he charmed even his enemy’s family was… diabolical. Even Dean's mother and younger brother fanned over him. It was almost sickening. He caught me staring and winked from across the yard. My stomach did that thing where it felt like I was still sixteen and gullible. I looked away. “There you are. I've been looking for you.” I didn’t have to turn. I knew who it was. Dean. “What do you want?” I hissed, eyes fixed ahead. If I looked at his ferret face, I might swing. “You’re not joining the fun, Sav?” His voice oozed smugness. “I’m here, aren’t I?” I hissed without looking at him, fearing that if I did, a body would drop before the first toast was raised. He chuckled. “Believe it or not, I care about you. A lot.” That made me turn. “Really? And lying to my family earlier after you harassed and insulted me was what— your version of a love letter?” “You can't blame me. You seduced me.” I almost gasped, “I tried to seduce you? In what way? You and Chloe set me up for humiliation then you tried to force me! How am I to be blamed?” He chuckled, “That was a harmless prank. Your sister loves you too much to ruin your image any further.” He cleverly avoided the main issue. The nerve of this guy. Acting like he wasn't blackmailing my fiancé in my presence. I almost screamed out the existence of the video to everyone present. But I knew it'd be meaningless. Chloe always won. Dean would defend her. And God help me, if I didn’t want to press his face down on the grill because of that. My hands shook from suppressed rage. But a little glance in Roman's direction— who was coincidentally looking in my direction, had me gulping down my venom. “You lied to your fiancée. How do you live with that?” He leaned back, “You’ve never hidden the truth to protect a lover?” I squeezed the soda can in my hand, “You really have a lot of nerve saying this to me.” My voice rose lighter than I intended. Alyssa glanced over. Dean’s eyes flicked around before he leaned in. “Do you always have to make a scene?” “Do you always have to be a prick?” I retorted. His smirk deepened. “Unless I’m the biggest one around.” I grimaced at the double meaning, “You’re disgusting.” “And you’re bitter. A bitter little sexy liar.” His tone dripped with mockery. “You orchestrated one big lie just to win me back. I should give you a trophy for Most Obsessive Ex.” Dean gloated. I laughed, sharp and humorless. “Still clinging to your conspiracy theories?” “They’re not conspiracy theories if I have proof that they're real.” He insisted. I tilted my head. “Should I be worried about my sister marrying a madman like you?” He ignored that, pulling out his phone and scrolling like he had all the time in the world. I looked away. Mom and Aunt Janice were by the grill, queens of their smoky domain, tongs in hand, laughing as fat dripped onto coals and sent flames licking upward. A folding table sagged under bowls of potato salad, golden corn, deviled eggs, and a sweating pitcher of lemonade dotted with mint leaves. Dean’s quiet “Give me a second” reminded me he was still there.“Get lost, Dean. You’re starting to sound obsessed. Why do you care who I’m with?” “I’m trying to open your eyes. He’s not who you think he is.” His eyes remained stuck on his phone, still scrolling. “You’re really forcing my hand here,” I said, my smile tight. “Aha! Found it.” His grin was pure satisfaction. I braced for something pathetic— a flimsy reach. But his voice was steady. Too steady for a second, I panicked a little. “If Roman’s so in love with you… then how do you explain this?” He turned the phone toward me. And my stomach dropped.