The Day I Broke Her

It was the day of our wedding trip, and my fiancee only hurried over to the airport at the last minute.

Right before we boarded, she got an urgent message from her male secretary. "Sorry, honey. There's a big project that needs my attention. Just showed up. You go ahead without me. I'll catch up once I'm done with work."

It was a shame, but work was important. "Yeah, I get it."

Then, I tore up the flight ticket after my fiancee was gone. My fiancee talking about a big project when I just bought the whole company hours earlier? Well, I'd like to see who was the idiot who worked around their new boss to talk to someone who did not exist.

Caught in the Act

I followed my fiance all the way to the multimillion-dollar hotel I gave her when we first started dating. It was to be our wedding spot, and the words printed on the welcome banner were now an eyesore.

'Congratulations on the wedding, Ms. Zoey Chandler and Mr. Bartholomew Lawson.'

On the perfectly decorated wedding photo was Zoey Chandler, beaming in a wedding gown. The guy who had his arm around her?

Not me.

Instead, it was Bartholomew, her male secretary, who texted her earlier.

That answered everything. No wonder she didn't want to hold a grand wedding. "I already have to put up with all the actors at work. All I want is a quiet wedding trip."

She went through the photoshoot, the wedding, and took the license with someone else. Before I went into the hotel, I grabbed a phone and made a call.

Then I took a seat with the best view. As the host made their announcement, Zoey's father came in holding her hand as they went on with the procession. Slowly, they stopped beside me. Bartholomew came from the other side, and he extended his hand toward Zoey solemnly.

As Zoey's father gave her daughter's hand to Bartholomew, and the couple was about to hold hands, I swung my leg at Zoey's calf, and she dropped to the ground headfirst. Her veil fell, and her bouquet scattered.

Even Bartholomew was pulled down.

Zoey was going to yell curses at me, but the moment she saw my face, she froze up like a statue.

Bartholomew kept asking her to pick him up, but she could not even look at him. She was panicking and still on the ground, and I asked, "Well, this is embarrassing. Are you waiting for my help?"

My voice shocked Bartholomew, and he looked at me in disbelief, his face white as a paper. He was going to hide behind Zoey, but Zoey's father pulled him back.

Benjamin Chandler was always the cunning one. He jabbed a finger at me haughtily and yelled enough for all the guests to hear, "You're still after my daughter, you homewrecker? I thought I chased you off at the entrance! How'd you get in?"

Everyone had their eyes on me.