She Stole My Fiancé Days Before My Wedding

A week before the wedding, an anonymous video landed in my inbox.

It showed Owen Roberts tangled up with another woman, calling her his wife over and over. I sat there frozen, my hands shaking too hard to even stop the playback.

I scraped together whatever composure I had left and stormed into his study, where he was busy addressing the invitations. I shoved my phone in his face.

"Nine years, Owen. I actually believed you were different."

"Did you mistake her for me because you were drunk?"

He paused, his grip tightening on the pen. When he finally looked up, his calm was unnerving.

"I wasn't drunk. And I didn't mistake her for you."

"Truth is, having you around all this time... it's gotten boring."

"I know what I did was wrong. If you still want to marry me, I'll go through with it. But I can't promise to love you the way I used to."

In that moment, I didn't recognize the man standing in front of me, speaking with such certainty. My eyes fell on the ivory invitations scattered across the table. I knew the wedding was off. This wasn't a wedding anymore—it was the funeral of the nine years I'd given him.

"You don't have to worry about who sent that video," Owen said lightly. "The girl's still in school. She's probably embarrassed she even bothered."

He chuckled at the thought. I slid my phone back into my pocket.

"Fine. Change the bride's name to hers on the invitations. If anyone asks, tell them we split amicably."

Owen frowned. "How can you say that?"

"Our parents are getting older. They can't handle this kind of shock."

"If you don't want to marry me, then we'll just cancel the whole thing."

I turned to leave. "Do whatever you want."

He grabbed my arm, yanking me back with a force that caught me off guard.

"What do you mean, 'do whatever you want'? Are you really calling this off?"

"Don't forget, the wedding was your idea. Every relative has already been notified."

"We can skip the legalities, but you will walk down that aisle."

His tone was final. No room to argue. The black ink from the pen he was holding bled onto my cream-colored dress, leaving twisted, tangled lines behind.

This was my favorite dress. Ruined.

Seeing the stain, Owen pulled his hand back without a word.

"The foundation of a wedding is love. Do you honestly think there's any left?"

He held his breath, then let go of my arm. The red marks left behind were painfully vivid.

His lips tightened. "You stopped loving me that easily?"

"Then your love must be pretty cheap."

I laughed, tears blurring my vision.

"My love is cheap? Cheap enough to give up a prestigious university for you. Cheap enough to share canned soup in that basement with you. Cheap enough to help you become the successful Owen Roberts—only to get betrayed in return."

"Owen, can you sink any lower?"

He froze, reaching out to comfort me. "I'm sorry. Don't cry."

"I was just messing around with her. I never planned to leave you."

At that close distance, I caught the faint trace of another woman's perfume on him. I slapped him.

"I'm the one who doesn't want you."

"You said you were out with friends and came back this morning. Was that with her too?"

"Owen Roberts, have you told me a single truthful word?"

His eyes hardened into a cold glare. "Fine. Then let me tell you the truth."

"It was your precious student who invited me to dinner while you were on that business trip. She showered me with gifts."

"Esme—that girl you personally mentored!"

"This outcome? You brought it on yourself."

A jolt of electricity shot through my mind.

My prized student. I supported her when she had nothing. Let her stay at my place. Took her shopping. Bought her new clothes...

"Enough," Owen cut in. "Changing the bride to her would make both of us look ridiculous. Even if it's for your sake, we have to go through with this wedding."