Jay Grant and Kyra Spark had been at each other’s throats since childhood. But that year, fate played a cruel joke: of all the people in their circle, they were the only two left as a potential match. Jay scoffed at the idea, boldly declaring he’d rather die than marry Kyra.
That caught her attention.
“Perfect,” she replied dryly. “Then I guess I’m marrying you. Go ahead and die.”
On their wedding day, Jay pulled a childish stunt, unleashing a flock of chickens during the ceremony. Unfazed, Kyra grabbed one by the wings, held it up, and said, “Darling,” her face blank.
Jay no longer found it funny. He scowled at the woman who kept insisting she wanted to be his wife. “You’ll regret this,” he muttered.
Three years and ninety-nine betrayals later, Kyra finally understood—this was the kind of regret he meant.
