This was survival. This was strategy. This was weeks of careful planning coming to fruition.
Tonight, he would be exposed. Tonight, every threat he’d ever made would come back to bite him. Tonight, the man who thought he owned me would learn what it meant to underestimate the woman standing beside him.
I smoothed my hands over my stomach and met my own eyes.
Happy birthday, Ariana.
It was time.
Smile
Ariana
Present
My birthday had always been a point of contention in my life.
How could it not be, when you’re born on Christmas Eve? My mother always said it was the best Christmas gift she ever had — or at least, she said it when I was young, before the light in her eyes was snuffed out. The older I got, the more I realized my birthday was the worst day ever. We never truly celebrated it. I was lucky if I got a birthday cake after our Christmas Eve dinner, and usually, my birthday and Christmas gift was one and the same.
“It was expensive,”Mom would say.“So it counts for both your birthday and Christmas.”
“You’re lucky to get anything at all,”Jay would chime in once he was in the picture.“Do you know how many kids wake up to no presents?”
I’d learned to live with it. And honestly, I’d grown numb to wanting anything more as I got older. The first birthday I spent with Nathan, he took me out for a nice dinner and bought me a beautiful diamond tennis bracelet. He always made sure I had a gift after that, but the celebration was subpar — a dinner, usually, or sometimes a breakfast if we had a holiday party to attend with his colleagues. That happened more often than not.
I was used to spending my birthday with other people celebrating a completely different holiday.
The only one to ever make my birthday feel special was Shane.
And if everything went right tonight, he’d do it again.
It’d be the best birthday yet.
Oddly, I didn’t feel nervous as I walked into the stunning event space on Nathan’s arm. I expected my hands to tremble, my breaths to be shallow, but instead, I was calm and, if anything, a bit eager.
I believed in our plan. I believed in justice being served.
Still, there was something humming under the surface of my confidence as we entered the party, Nathan beaming at the guests who were already there and ready to greet us.
He’d hired multiple event planners to make his vision come to life — a winter wonderland in Tampa. The Vinoy had been an easy choice, and he’d literally bought out the bride who was set to have her wedding here tonight. The waterfront event space was one of the most luxe Tampa had to offer, and the event staff had transformed both the ballroom and the outdoor space into a magical world.
Outside, snow fell in soft, perfect drifts from hidden machines, artificial but convincing, dissolving in the warm Florida air before it could gather on the ground. A small ice-skating rink had been built along the waterfront, its surface gleaming beneath strands of white lights, guests laughing as they wobbled across it with champagne flutes in hand. Beyond it, aerial artists in crystal-studded white silks twisted and floated overhead, their movements slow and ethereal, like living ornaments suspended in midair.
Near the center of the terrace, a woman performed inside a massive glass snow globe, her breath fogging the clear walls as she danced through swirling flakes, the illusion so completeit felt like watching winter itself trapped and displayed for admiration.
Inside the ballroom, towering white florals climbed the walls, lit from below to glow like frost. Mirrored bars reflected candlelight in every direction, doubling the spectacle. The music from the band was lush and sweeping, designed to impress rather than invite.
There were nods to me, if you knew where to look — my favorite flowers tucked into the arrangements, a signature cocktail bearing my name in elegant script — but they felt like afterthoughts, like accents added once the real purpose of the night had already been decided.
This wasn’t a birthday party.
It was a performance.
Nathan moved through the crowd like a king holding court, pausing just long enough at each cluster of guests to charm, flatter, and negotiate. His hand remained firm on my arm, guiding me where he wanted me, presenting me when it suited him, his smile never wavering. I couldn’t help but compare how he was tonight versus how he’d been the night of Skate for Change. He’d fooled me with his admiration that night, making up for the executive dinner, playing his part of doting husband.
Tonight, his true colors shone too brightly to hide.
“Would be nice if you smiled a little more,” he murmured between the teeth of his flashy smile as he toted me through the ballroom, waving to someone across the room he wanted to talk to. “It’s your birthday party, not a funeral.”
