Chapter 1

With a muffled swish, the ivory wedding gown slid down her olive skin pooling around bare feet, leaving her naked save for the white lace undergarments. She stepped out of the gown and made quick work of removing the offending pins that held the perfectly coiffed hair, dropping everything on the carpeted floor as she pulled them out.

She gave her hair one last shake and the long brunette mass tumbled artlessly over her shoulders and back like bunched satin.

Bending down, she picked up the gown and with enough force, threw it across the room where it landed on one end of the heart shaped bed.

Twenty-three year old Gabriella Montez stared at the garment with cold eyes. The whiteness and the intricate beadwork of the gown, a startling contrast to the deep hue of the red bedspread and the dim lights of the honeymoon suite, making it appear too bright . . . too perfect . . . too offending in Gabriella's eyes.

A slight frown creased her forehead, disgust suddenly evident. The gown that was currently a huge clump on the bed, in all its simple elegance, seems to be taunting her. That such a wonderful creation from designer Monique Lhuillier is worn by a happy bride.

Happy, though, is something Gabriella was definitely not.

If circumstances were different, she would have felt the appropriate joy of being a bride.

Hell, she might have even blushed with happiness while flaunting the expensive gown . . . but unfortunately for her, it wasn't the case.

Abruptly, a wave of anger and sadness assailed her and she felt the back of her eyes burn. She tightly shut them forcing the tears to dry before they even fall. She repudiated to feel weak and pitiful. She had to be strong for her own sake.

She refused to shed a tear over this predicament that her wicked witch of a stepmother cunningly thrust upon her.

She will not cry.

Taking control of her emotions, Gabriella opened her eyes and stepped closer to the bed casting the gown off with an angry push of the hand. And as if that wasn't enough distance from her, she kicked it like a soccer ball. It went flying off the floor then landed right at the door leading to the dressing area.

Childish behavior, of course. But she knew taking out her irritation and anger on the gown was a better way to dispense all the negativity in her emotions than murdering her stepmother or her husband, however satisfying both may be, and end up in jail for it.

No, she will not give them the satisfaction of seeing her breakdown again.

Precisely, twelve months ago, a week after her father's death, the lawyer in charge of the late Antonio Montez' will read the testament. She wasn't interested in her share of the highly successful Montez business of hotels and resorts or which assets from the countless lands, estates, ranches and rental properties, among others, were left as inheritance. She knew what was rightfully hers even when her father was still alive because she is the only child of Antonio Montez. And money was never really an issue for her since she had already taken control of the trust fund when she turned twenty, plus the fact that she earns enough from her own profession as a photographer to continue living the luxurious life she was born into.

Mourning her father's death, at that time, made her care less that her stepmother, Marissa Heskin, had gotten enough share in the company to control the board. But just when she thought the painful process was over, the lawyer uneasily cleared his throat and read what must have been the last part of the will, "With condition that said properties, shares and estates be transferred to my daughter Gabriella Montez, only when she enters into marriage with a man from a reputable family, with approval from my wife Marissa Heskin-Montez, by her 23rd birthday. In addition, that my daughter Gabriella Montez stay married for a period of at least 5 years. If said condition is not met by the specified time allotted, all the aforementioned will be inherited by my wife, Marissa Heskin-Montez."

It was the moment that sent her world spiraling out of control. Not only did she lose a father; she was also being robbed of her rights and freedom by the one person she had never learned to accept . . . her stepmother. She remembered gasping for air, collapsing on the floor and seeing the devious grin on Marissa's face before everything went black.

The next day she wanted to forget the anger and betrayal she felt toward her father. Her mind could not find an explanation for that wretched paragraph in the will. She began to question the closeness she shared with her father. Was all of it fake? Because he had no other choice? Or was he merely obligated to love her? The pedestal that she had built for her father came crashing down. She began to hate a lot of people but most of all she hated herself for trusting the one man who should have protected her.

She fell into depression and was slowly but surely on the road to self destruction by drinking every night. She lived like a vampire . . . asleep during the day from the hangover, awake by night ready to down as much alcohol until she passes out or end up vomiting disgustingly at some dirty alley.

She wanted to numb herself from any emotion. She wanted to escape her predetermined future even for just a night, preferring to worry of her throbbing head than the rich, spoiled, arrogant and womanizing oaf her stepmother chose for her to marry.

She would have gotten used to the drunken state but then there was Sharpay Evans, her friend since preschool, the one person that stuck around no matter how many times she pushed her away.

Maybe it was Sharpay's endless sparkle in clothes that sparked a light in Gabriella's befuddled head when she comes dragging her home most nights or it was the soothing effect of the color pink Sharpay loves a little too much or simply sheer determination to help a friend that pulled Gabriella out of the hell hole she was deeply falling into. Whatever it was, only Sharpay Evans can say that she made Gabriella sober again.

"Look at yourself and tell me if that person you see is still Gabriella Montez!" Sharpay forcefully held her limp body toward the full length mirror, the sound of her angry voice making Gabriella's head ache even more.

"Yes." She croaked only to appease her, wishing Sharpay would let her get back to sleeping. The rays of the morning sun only made her feel worse than she already is.

"No." Sharpay averred coldly, still with a firm grip on her arms to keep her standing. "Gabriella Montez does not reek in her own vomit night after night and she's not one to willingly throw her life away because of some guy."

Gabriella swallowed the dryness in her throat. She wanted to argue with her, tell her exactly how her dreams became useless or that she finds happiness nowadays at the bottom of a bottle. But her wasted self gave her no energy to fight back. "I'm hopeless, Sharpay. Stay away." Was all she could utter.

"So this is how it's gonna be? You're letting her win just like that. Honestly, Gabi, I'm disappointed."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!"

Releasing the hold on her upper arms, Sharpay backed away and rolled her eyes in exasperation but deep down she was extremely concerned for Gabriella's well being. "You're oh so wonderful stepmother . . . who else?" She explained trying another tactic to get into her head. "You giving up on everything important in your life is exactly what she wants to happen. I bet she already knows that you've turned into this ghastly person and its only a matter of time before she makes a move to take over your life under the guise of being a concerned family member helping you to recover when what she's really itching to do is throw you in rehab where you will rot away for good and never bother her again. And while you're in rehab supposedly receiving treatment but getting crazier by the minute, she is having a blast running your father's business and spending away your inheritance on every luxury imaginable to man."

"She will never do that." She rasped, anger slowly seeping into her brain, knowing that even though Sharpay had only made up such a situation based on some movie, the possibility of it happening was too real to ignore.

"She will . . . but only if you let her."

"I won't let her." Color suddenly returning to her lips and cheeks and her dull eyes now grew alert.

"I believe you. But first you need to stop this . . . this drunken obsession. It's been a month already." Sharpay said gesturing a hand towards a haggard looking Gabriella who was struggling to stay on her feet. "Get yourself together, Gabs. No matter how much life sucks, you have to get past that. And let's just hope, for your sake, the alcohol in your system didn't shrink your brain the size of a pea."

When Sharpay left minutes later after seeing her off to bed, Gabriella felt a wash of cold air knock sense into her. For the first time since the reading of the will, she allowed herself to feel and think again. And because of that, she cried all morning. She cried until her fragile body racked in sobs. She cried until her tear ducts ran dry.

Meeting up with Sharpay the next day, her blonde friend carefully let her eyes wander over the pale yellow sundress she opted to wear as Gabriella slid into the seat opposite hers. "Are you Gabriella Montez again?"

"Apparently, yes."

"About damn time."

A week after that, just when she was getting her life back in order, Gabriella realized, based on several sources close to her father, that Marissa had somehow poisoned her father's mind into thinking that her daughter was in need of a keeper thus the arranged marriage and Gabriella was fairly certain that Marissa was easily able to convince her then sick father to change his will to suit her liking.

Yet instead of shrinking away again to wallow in her problems, Gabriella decided to accept the arranged marriage only because she didn't want Marissa to get her hands on the inheritance but with a promise to herself that she will find a way to get back at the woman who ruined her life.

So during the wedding earlier, all one hundred and fifty guests, distracted by the opulent decoration, the lavish food, endless entertainment and the overall splendor of the wedding, hardly suspected anything amiss.

They didn't see how the bride had a forced smile plastered to her face or that her usually twinkling brown orbs lacked its luster.

No one noticed that the newly wed couple hadn't spoken a word to each other during the entire reception or how they made it a point to avoid each others eyes. And if by chance their eyes would meet, they ended up glaring coldly at each other.

Nobody found it unusual when the groom sought the company of his friends for the most part of the festivities rather than stay with his new bride.

None paid heed to see that the bride with her over bright smile and hollow sounding laugh flinched every time a camera flash went off somewhere.

Not a soul in the wedding party, save one, had any indication that a part of Gabriella died when she dutifully recited her vows to a man she has no desire to be associated with.

Because, for her part, Gabriella acted like a beaming bride . . . smiling the requisite smiles, uttering gracious words at all the well wishers and gathering enough will to engage in pseudo passionate kisses with her husband that the guests frequently clamored for.

xxxxxxx

The door suddenly opened, casting light into the room from the hallway, and the familiar figure of Sharpay stood by the door still wearing the maid of honor dress with a strange look on her face. "Wow. That was quick." She drolly said, strolling further inside.

"What is?" Gabriella asked Sharpay, her brows raised quizzically.

"Your honeymoon!" She exclaimed with an eye roll, gesturing a hand at Gabriella's barely clad body sprawled out on the bed. "I mean, honey, either he's THAT good of a lover or such a lousy fuck that you had no choice but to end it quickly."

Gabriella chuckled. "You never were subtle with words, Sharpay."

"I do my best." Sharpay answered with a flip of her hair. "And this unembellished gown isn't helping any with my disposition." She slowly spun around spreading the ruche skirt of the plain ice blue gown to show her point. "You're lucky I bothered coming up here to see if you had been murdered by your hubby . . . who I must say minus the cold demeanor is quite good looking."

"Blame Cruella de Ville for the gown. She hates sparkly things." Gabriella said referring to her stepmother. "And as for my hubby's looks, I think that's nature not Marissa's doing."

"Oh so you do admit he's handsome . . . is he good in bed?" Sharpay prodded even as a red pillow came flying from the bed which she easily caught.

"Seriously, Sharpay!" Gabriella protested trying her best to look stern as she swallowed a giggle. "No honeymoon is happening now or in the future."

"I wouldn't be so sure of it, Gabi. He is your husband and you will be living in the same roof. Of course, his good looks scream the words . . . taste me and be happy. And it's a known fact that he's a man whore. Apparently, women drop like falling leaves at his wake. At least that's what I heard." Sharpay mentioned, her voiced laced with exaggerated concern, shaking her blonde head for effect. "You never know what's in store for you while living with him."

Another wave of laughter welled from Gabriella but in the back of her mind she knew Sharpay had a point. It wasn't her husband's looks she was concerned about but rather the living arrangements in the Los Angeles mansion that her husband's parents gave as a wedding present. "Since when did you get the hots for my husband? I thought you prefer dark brooding males." She averred. "I'm the one in the rut but crap Sharpay, your mind is more messed up than mine!"

"He's not my type, hun. I can assure you that. But earlier when you were swapping spit with him, you two looked gorgeous together." Sharpay raised her arms in defense when Gabriella made a move to throw another pillow at her. "Hey, I'm not the only one with that opinion! I'm just saying . . ."

"I hate you."

"I love you too, friend."

"My life sucks."

"Well, like I always say, when life gives you lemons," Sharpay paused to recall the wise words she supposedly lived by. Her eyes lit up then added, ". . . make lemonade!"

Gabriella struggled to control her mirth but Sharpay had already began laughing, slumping down on the bed next to her. Once their laughter waned, Gabriella asked, "What if life gives you Troy Bolton? What do you make of it then?"