My Fiancé Slapped Me For His Ex At Our Engagement Party

Frost clung to the tall windows of the grand ballroom. I stood near the center ice sculpture, shivering in my thin silk gown. Two hours. Silas was two hours late to our own engagement party.

"Where is he, Liora?" my mother whispered, clutching her champagne flute tight enough to snap the stem.

"He's coming," I said.

"People are staring."

"I know. Just give him a minute."

The heavy oak double doors suddenly swung wide. Silas strode in, bringing a gust of freezing winter wind with him. He wore his tailored dark suit, but his tie was pulled loose. His jaw locked tight.

I hurried across the marble floor to meet him.

"Silas," I said, reaching for his arm. "You're finally here. Did you get stuck in the snow?"

He didn't answer. He didn't even look at my dress, the one I spent months choosing.

Instead, his hand swung through the air.

The sharp crack echoed across the silent room. My head snapped to the side. A stinging heat exploded across my left cheek. I stumbled back, my hand flying to my burning skin.

"Silas?" I gasped, tasting copper on my tongue.

"Don't say my name," he spat. His voice rang loud enough for every guest to hear.

The string quartet stopped playing. The entire room froze.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice shaking.

Silas reached into his suit jacket. He yanked out a stack of glossy photographs and hurled them at my chest. They fluttered and scattered across the floor like dead leaves.

"You thought I wouldn't find out?" he shouted. "You thought you could play me for a fool?"

I looked down. The image on top showed a woman in a bright red coat, pressed against a tall man in a dark alley. Their lips were locked together. The woman’s face angled directly toward the camera lens.

It was my face.

"No," I whispered. I dropped to my knees and snatched up the picture. "Silas, this isn't me."

"Do you think I'm blind?" he sneered. He took a heavy step forward, looming over me. "I spent months planning a future with a cheating whore."

"Stop it!" I cried out, scrambling to my feet. "I don't even own a red coat! This is fake. Someone is setting me up."

"Save your lies for someone who cares."

"Look at the shadows!" I shoved the photo toward him. "It's photoshopped. I have never kissed another man. I have been at the venue all day setting this up!"

Silas knocked the photo out of my hand.

"I hired a private investigator," Silas said, his tone turning to ice. "He took those tonight. While you claimed to be getting your hair done, you were in the arms of that trash."

"I was at the salon! Call my stylist! She can prove it."

"She already told me you left for two hours," Silas countered.

My stomach dropped. "I went to pick up your gift. The watch you wanted."

"A convenient excuse." Silas turned away from me, facing the crowd of three hundred guests. "The engagement is canceled."

Gasps rippled through the room.

"Silas, please!" I grabbed his sleeve.

He ripped his arm away violently. "Get your hands off me, Liora. We are completely done."

"You can't just leave me here like this. We need to talk."

"There is nothing left to say."

He marched straight out the doors, leaving them wide open to the winter storm.

I stood alone in the center of the ballroom. The guests didn't leave. They stayed, forming a tight circle of judgment around me.

"Disgusting," a woman muttered loudly.

"Poor Silas. To be humiliated like this," a man agreed.

"She has absolutely no shame. Kissing another man on her engagement day."

"Whore."

The whispers buzzed like angry hornets, stinging me from every direction. I spun around, looking at the faces of my friends and family.

"It's not real!" I yelled, tears finally spilling over my hot cheeks. "I didn't do it!"

No one stepped forward to help me. Even my mother turned her back and walked toward the coat check.

I stared down at the photographs littering the floor. My life, my reputation, my future—all destroyed in a matter of five minutes. Why would someone go to such lengths to ruin me? Who paid the investigator?

My phone buzzed inside my small clutch purse.

I pulled it out with trembling fingers. A single text message glowed on the screen from an unknown number.

*Did you enjoy the gift? Run while you still can.*