The man who had never once missed a date in five years disappeared on the morning of our wedding rehearsal. No calls, no texts, and his phone went straight to voicemail.

Fearing the worst, I called my future sisterinlaw, Bonnie.

At first, she tried to soothe me with vague excuses, but her voice wavered, and she let it slip. "Look, Susie, it’s just a rehearsal.

Thomas has someone far more important to take care of right now." Before I could even process her words, the makeup artist in the bridal suite gasped, pointing toward the floortoceiling windows that overlooked the downtown plaza. "Oh my god, look at that," she squealed, clutching her hands to her chest. "How romantic.

A woman would be lucky to have a man who loves her like that." I turned my head toward the giant LED billboard towering over the city center.

There, illuminated in crisp highdefinition, was my fiancé. Thomas was down on one knee, sliding a diamond ring onto the finger of his distant cousin, Mia.

And standing right beside them, taking photos with a radiant smile, was my future motherinlaw—the woman who had spent years telling me she considered me the daughter she never had.

My heart shattered in my chest. I called my best friend on speaker, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe. When she answered, she didn't gasp. She didn't scream.

She just let out a long, heavy sigh. "Susie... I'm so sorry, but I knew," she confessed softly. "Mia’s an orphan, and her depression is really severe.

She’s never even been in a real relationship. It’s pathetic, honestly.

Thomas’s just playing along to give her a little piece of mind, a fake title to make her happy before... well, you know. It was actually my idea.

Just think of it as helping a sick girl, okay?" Listening to her casual, detached tone made my blood run cold.

The makeup artist, completely oblivious to my crumbling world, turned around and smiled. "So, sweetie, when is your groom getting here?" A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my throat. "He's not coming," I whispered. "And I don't want him anymore." ...

The line to Bonnie was still open. "Look," Bonnie’s voice cut back in, sharp and impatient. "Thomas told me himself—you're the one marrying into the family. You're the real bride.

The doctor said Mia can't handle any stress right now.

Can’t you just treat this like a game of house for her sake?" When I stayed silent, Bonnie grew frantic. "Does playing house require renting the most expensive billboard in the middle of downtown?" I asked, my voice deadly quiet.

Bonnie lost her temper. "Why are you being so heartless, Susie? Mia has no parents! This might be the only time in her entire life she gets to wear a white dress!

So what if my brother spent a little money to make her happy? Do you really have to count every single penny?" "Whatever," she snapped. "I can't deal with you.

I'll let my brother talk to you." She slammed the phone down. On the giant screen across the plaza, the video froze on Mia’s tearstained, euphoric face.

Down on the street, passersby broke into cheers. Passing cars honked their horns in celebration. Only I stood alone in the quiet room, looking down at my bare left hand.

Thomas had never proposed to me. Not once. He always said grand gestures were empty, narcissistic vanity—that building a real life together, quietly, was what truly mattered.

Yet today, in front of the entire city, he gave all the grand gestures to his cousin.

Minutes after the spectacle ended, Thomas’s call came through. "Susie, did Bonnie talk to you?" he started, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "Mia had a severe breakdown last night.

She cut her wrists. I had no choice.

I had to pull off something drastic to keep her tethered to reality." He paused, waiting for a response I didn't give, before dropping into the familiar, gentle tone he always used to manage me. "I swear to you, Susie, no one could ever replace you in my heart.

Tomorrow, as soon as the wedding is over, I'll take you to the jeweler and buy you that threecarat ring you loved, okay?" If this had happened a year ago, I would have believed him.

Three years ago, when my startup folded and left me swimming in debt, loan sharks came knocking on my door.

It was Thomas who stood on my porch with a baseball bat, shielding me with his body. "Don't be scared, Susie," he had whispered, pulling me into his chest. "If the sky falls, I'll hold it up for you." Back then, his eyes held only me.

But I didn't believe him anymore. Because his world had grown crowded, and another woman now held the prime estate in his heart.

I forced myself to look up at the ceiling, swallowing back the hot tears prickling my eyes.

My voice was a scratchy thread. "Thomas... can you swear you don't feel anything for her?" Silence stretched over the line.

Then, Thomas exploded in frustration. "Susie, do you really have to throw a hysterical tantrum right now? I told you, you get the legal title. You're the one becoming Mrs. Cornell.

Mia has nothing!

You have so much—why is it so hard for you to spare a tiny slice of your happiness for her?" A tear finally spilled over, trailing down my cheek as I let out a sound that was halflaugh, halfsob.

My parents died when I was a child. I had no siblings, no inheritance—only my frail, aging grandmother who raised me on a pension.

And he dared to stand there and tell me I "had so much"? He wanted me to parcel out my love like table scraps? I wiped the moisture from my cheek.

My tone went completely flat. "Fine. I'll share." And I would share completely. I would give it all away.

Thomas, oblivious to the icy finality in my voice, let out a massive sigh of relief. "That’s my girl. I knew my Susie was reasonable.

Oh, and don't mention any of this to your grandmother, alright? Her heart is fragile. I don't want her getting worked up over nothing.

Once Mia stabilizes, I’ll come over and apologize to her properly." The line went dead. Inside me, the last ember of warmth snuffed out.

I knew I should walk away right now, but I couldn't. Not yet. Not until tomorrow’s ceremony was recorded. Grandma had been praying for five years to see me walk down the aisle.

Her heart was weak, and her doctor warned her against traveling. The plan had always been for me to record the wedding video, bring it to her nursing home, and watch it together.

I needed that complete, beautiful video. It was the only gift I had left to give her. When I arrived back at our shared apartment later that afternoon, Thomas was already there.

Before he could say a word, a pale, timid face peeked out from behind his shoulder. Mia. "Susie...

I'm so sorry," Mia whimpered, clutching a delicate cardigan around her shoulders. "I was terrified of being alone in the apartment, and Thomas was worried about me, so he brought me here." Thomas smoothly wrapped an arm around her waist, easing her into the entryway. "Susie, Mia was just discharged.

I couldn't leave her alone. The mattress in the master bedroom is soft and ergonomic—it’s much better for her back right now.

Let her stay in the master suite for a couple of days." My eyes stung as I stared at him.

That mattress was something I had spent three weekends visiting four different furniture showrooms to find, specifically for "our" bed.

Before I could speak, Mia shrank back into Thomas’s side, trembling like a frightened bird. "Oh no... Susie, am I making you upset? If it bothers you, I’ll leave right now.

My life is worthless anyway. It doesn't matter if I die on the street." She made a dramatic show of turning toward the door.

Thomas’s brow furrowed, and he pulled her tightly back against his chest. "Stop talking like that! What nonsense!

This is your home too." He stroked her hair, then turned a stern, disappointed glare on me. "Susie, where is your grace? You're usually so generous.

Mia is suffering from severe trauma—are you really going to throw a fit over a bedroom?" Looking at the two of them wrapped in each other's arms, the knot in my stomach suddenly loosened.

The anger evaporated, replaced by a strange, numb detachment. "Fine," I said softly. "I'll take the guest room." I walked into the master bedroom, pulled my designer suitcases out of the closet, and began packing everything I owned.

As I folded a silk blouse, a pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

Thomas rested his chin on my shoulder, his breathing warm against my ear. "Susie, this is just temporary," he murmured, his familiar sandalwood cologne washing over me. "Once her emotional state settles, I’ll get her a place of her own.

Tonight, I'll sleep in the guest room with you, okay?" I didn't pull away.

I just stared at the empty closet rack. "The guest bed is a twin," I said evenly. "It's too small for two people." Thomas froze.

Before he could respond, a sharp, piercing scream echoed from the living room. Instantly, his arms dropped from my waist. He didn't even look back as he sprinted out of the room.

When I zipped up my bags and walked out, I saw the shattered pieces of a jade bracelet scattered across the hardwood floor.

It was the heirloom Thomas’s mother had shown me two days ago—a family piece passed down through generations, reserved strictly for the Cornell family’s official daughterinlaw.

She had promised to place it on my wrist after the wedding. Clearly, she had already given it to Mia.

My prospective motherinlaw was standing in the foyer, holding Mia’s trembling hands and cooing over her. "It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s just a piece of jewelry!

As long as you didn't cut your skin, that's all that matters." Then, she looked up and spotted me standing near the hallway with my suitcases. "Susie, look what happened.

Mia’s heirloom bracelet broke," she said, her voice devoid of warmth. "Since her hand is bare now, lend her that custom diamond tiara you had made for tomorrow's ceremony.

Just for the day." I stared at her in utter disbelief. That tiara was my pride and joy.

I had spent six months sketching the design, sourcing the conflictfree lab diamonds, and saving every spare dollar from my freelance consulting jobs to pay the jeweler.

Even Thomas seemed to realize how absurd the request was. He hesitated. "Mom... tomorrow is Susie’s wedding.

It’s not really appropriate for Mia to wear the bridal headpiece." His mother whipped around, glaring at him. "What’s inappropriate about it?

You already proposed to Mia in front of the whole city!

Are you really going to be so stingy over a headband?" She turned back to me, her eyes narrowing with moral disdain. "Susie, don't be so petty.

Fighting over a crown with a girl who is mentally ill... aren't you afraid of bringing bad karma on yourself?" Thomas shifted his weight, avoiding my gaze entirely. "Susie... maybe just for the photos?" A cold laugh bubbled up from my chest. "Sure," I said. "I'll lend it to her." I went back to the room and dug out the brassplated prototype the jeweler had sent me months ago during the draft phase—the one with faint scratches and fake glass crystals.

Mia was a treacherous homewrecker; she didn't deserve to touch my genuine custom piece. When I brought the box out, Mia grabbed it with greedy, trembling hands. "Thank you, Susie!

You're so sweet!" Thomas stepped closer to me, reaching out to stroke my hair. "Susie, I know you're making sacrifices.

I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow." I tilted my head, letting his hand fall empty into the air. ...

The bridal dressing room at the venue the next morning was suffocatingly quiet. There were no laughing bridesmaids, no champagne toasts, no family popping in with tears of joy.

Just a hired makeup artist mechanically dabbing foundation onto my pale skin. "Miss Michell, has your bridal bouquet arrived yet?" the stylist asked, adjusting my veil.

I pulled out my phone and checked the tracking app.

The courier notification showed that the custom lilyofthevalley bouquet—ordered a month ago from a specialty florist—had been delivered an hour ago.

Signed for by: "Thomas Cornell." Just then, Bonnie strolled into the room holding a cheap, wilted arrangement of deep red roses. "Susie," she said carelessly, tossing the flowers onto the vanity. "Thomas thought the white lilies were too plain.

White is unlucky for weddings anyway. He had the driver swap them for red roses." Lilies of the valley were my favorite flowers. Thomas had known that for five years.

And now, he had traded them for a halfdead bundle of clearance roses. It was almost poetic in its cruelty. I didn't argue. I didn't cry.

I just asked, "Is the wedding car outside?" Bonnie’s eyes flickered nervously.

She crossed her arms, fidgeting with her bracelet. "Uh, the lead limousine had a minor mechanical glitch. Thomas told the driver to use the backup sedan to pick you up.

Hey... make sure you don't wear a sour face out there today. There are dozens of relatives out in the hall." If I was throwing the man away, why should I care about the car?

I stood up, smoothing the tulle skirts of my dress. "Let's go." The main ballroom was decorated lavishly, floating in a sea of soft ivory roses and crystal chandeliers.

However, as I sat near the back corner of the family seating area, I looked up at the main multimedia screens.

Interspersed among the engagement photos of Thomas and me were several solitary portraits of Mia.

In the photos, she was wearing my custom prototype tiara, laughing radiant and free.

Beside me, Thomas’s groomsmen were whispering among themselves, oblivious to my presence. "Man, Thomas is such a good guy," one whispered. "To pull off a stunt like this just to grant Mia’s dying wish, even risking his own wedding day." "Right?" another nodded. "Susie is lucky.

Marrying a guy with that much honor and responsibility? She hit the jackpot.

I just hope she doesn't make a scene today and embarrass him." I picked up the glass of water in front of me and took a sip.

It was icecold, sliding down my esophagus like liquid glass.

The grand brass doors at the end of the aisle swung open, and the emcee’s booming voice echoed through the speakers. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for our breathtaking bride!" I took a breath and prepared to stand up.

Before I could even plant my feet, a figure in a sweeping white bridal gown, wearing my tiara and clutching my fresh bouquet of lilies of the valley, stepped out into the spotlight.

Mia. The spotlight washed over her delicate features. From the front row, Thomas—clad in his tailored black tuxedo—stepped forward, taking her gloved hand with immense gentleness.

In the front row, Thomas’s mother wiped tears from her eyes. Bonnie clapped frantically.

The crowd of guests broke into a roar of applause, touched by what appeared to be a fairytale romance. And there I sat.

The actual bride, dressed in my own gown, sitting isolated in the audience, watching my groom vow his life to another woman. I didn't yell. I didn't tear down the decorations.

Because this entire farce was being filmed.

As long as I could get the raw video file afterward, I could edit out the stage, splice in my footage, and show my grandmother a dignified, beautiful wedding.

She would never know the degradation I suffered today. She would never have her heart broken. The music swelled. Thomas leaned down and kissed Mia softly on the lips.

The crowd erupted into another round of cheers. The stage show was over. It was time for me to grab the master tape and leave this nightmare behind forever.

I stood up, turning toward the exit. And then, my breath hitched.

Standing in the doorway of the ballroom, leaning heavily on a cane, was the frail, hunched figure of my grandmother. "Grandma!" Panic surged through my veins.

I threw off my train and sprinted across the room toward her. Grandma lived in a rural town over three hundred miles away.

Because of her severe advanced heart failure, her doctors had strictly forbidden long travel. That was why I had planned to bring the video back to her home.

How on earth was she standing here?

Grandma’s clouded eyes swept over the stage—over Mia in her white gown, over Thomas holding her waist—and then fell upon me, standing in the aisle in my matching dress.

Her hand trembled violently as she raised her cane, pointing it straight at Thomas’s face. "My granddaughter is sitting in the crowd wearing her wedding dress..." Grandma’s voice shook with terrifying rage. "...and you are holding another woman at the altar?!

Thomas Cornell... do you think the Michell family has no one left to stand up for her?!" Thomas’s face instantly drained of color.

He dropped Mia’s hand and stumbled down the altar steps. "Grandma! Let me explain!" he stammered, panic lacing his tone. "This is just an act!

Susie is the only one I love!" Then, he turned his glare toward me, his eyes burning with accusation. "Susie! Grandma is old and fragile—she doesn't understand what's going on!

Did you secretly bring her here just to ruin everything and stress her out?" I didn't bother arguing with him.

I wrapped my arms around Grandma’s frail shoulders, my hands trembling. "Grandma, I don't want him anymore.

Let's go home." Before we could turn around, Mia hurried down the steps, pulling a leatherbound red booklet from her clutch. "Grandma, please don't blame Thomas!" Mia cried, holding up a officiallooking marriage certificate. "The truth is...

Thomas and I are already legally married! Susie is the intruder here!

She’s the one who refused to let him go!" When my grandmother was a young woman, she had been slandered and ruined by a wealthy family accusing her of being a mistress.

It was the deepest trauma of her life. She leaned forward, squinting at the names printed inside the booklet.

Her breathing suddenly became shallow, terrifyingly rapid. "You... how could you do this to my Susie..." Her eyelids fluttered, and her knees buckled. "Grandma!" I screamed, catching her limp body before she hit the marble floor.

I dropped to my knees, frantically pressing my thumb into the pressure point above her lip. "Grandma! Wake up!" I looked up at Thomas, tears blurring my vision. "Thomas!

Get your car!

Take us to the hospital right now!" Thomas took a step toward me—but behind him, Mia gasped softly, clutching her chest and collapsing onto the floor like a broken doll. "Thomas... my chest hurts..." she whimpered, gasping for air. "I...

I can't breathe..." Thomas halted midstride.

He looked at me, then back at Mia, his face a knot of conflict. "Susie," he said, turning his back on us. "Grandma can wait a few minutes—just call an ambulance!

Mia’s having a panic attack, she needs her medication in the dressing room!" Without waiting for my reply, he scooped Mia into his arms and sprinted down the hallway, disappearing around the corner.

I stared at his retreating back, and the last shred of my soul died. The city ambulance took forty minutes to navigate the weekend traffic.

As I knelt on the cold marble floor of the venue foyer, cradling my grandmother’s chest, her frail hand slowly slipped out of mine, dropping limply to the floor. ...

Three hours later. After getting Mia settled in a private clinic, Thomas finally remembered to check on us.

He searched every hospital within a fivemile radius, but found no record of my grandmother’s admission. In a panic, he drove back to our apartment to look for me.

He unlocked the door and shoved it open—only to be met by a middleaged woman in yellow rubber gloves holding a mop. Thomas froze. "Who are you?

Where’s Susie?" The woman gave him an indifferent glance, leaning on her mop. "The girl who lived here? She moved out an hour ago, honey.

Sold me the place for cash at a steep discount."