My protests grew weaker and weaker, drowned out by the mocking laughter of the crowd and the weary look in Sylvia's eyes.

She sighed, resigned, and walked over to wrap me in a gentle embrace.

"It's okay. If you don't like him, we'll fire him. How about that?"

"But you should've just told me directly instead of jumping to conclusions and spreading rumors about the poor guy..."

I'd thought she was simply deceived by Morris's lies and his act, just like all the other guests.

It wasn't until the moment I died that I learned the truth.

Her heart had already turned toward Morris.

...

This time, I watched with no expression as Morris threw his arms around Sylvia.

I didn't miss the flicker of emotion that darted through her eyes.

But a split second later, she shot a quick glance my way.

She shoved him off and said coldly, "That joke isn't funny. Apologize to my husband right now, then fix his makeup and cover that writing up."

"No need."

My voice was calm.

I lowered my head and pulled up the hospital's booking page to schedule a laser removal appointment.

Sylvia let out a breath of relief and patted Morris's hand gently.

"Hurry up and apologize to my husband. If he weren't so kind-hearted and easy-going, he wouldn't be letting this slide..."

I cut her off.

"Sylvia. Forget the makeup. The wedding is off."

Sylvia stared at me in disbelief. After a long pause, she let out a short laugh.

"That's not funny."

"It's not a joke."

I pulled off the suit she'd gone through God knew how many connections to have flown in from overseas. Tossed it aside like a piece of garbage.

"The wedding is canceled. We're done."

I put on my jacket without hesitation and headed for the door.

"Simon!"

Only then did Sylvia realize I was serious.

She grabbed my wrist, panic written all over her face.

"You're calling off the wedding over one stupid joke from a stylist?"

She looked up at me, those wide, beautiful eyes brimming with hurt and confusion.

"Simon, stop this!"

"Do you have any idea how much we put into this wedding? Our friends and family are all here. You can't just—"

I shook her hand off. I ignored the whispers and pointed fingers around us, and looked at her with nothing but cold contempt.

"Sylvia, you know exactly why I'm not going through with this."

"I'm giving you a chance. A chance to be with the person you actually love. Isn't that what you want?"

I expected to see panic flash across her face.

Instead, she looked perfectly composed, her expression full of wounded bewilderment.

"Simon, what are you even talking about? Everyone knows the person I love most is you!"

She pointed at Morris.

"Is this because of him?"

Her voice was helpless.

"I didn't know he was going to pull that stunt."

"Besides, didn't I already say I'd make him apologize? If that's still not enough for you, I'll fire him on the spot!"

Morris's eyes instantly filled with tears. He turned and bolted from the room.

Sylvia didn't spare him a single glance. Her dark eyes held mine, steady and deep.

"There. Are we good now?"

I looked at her, my gaze flat. I didn't say yes. I didn't say no.

The Fox parents walked in, their voices laced with reproach.

"She's already apologized to you. Playing hard to get at this point is just childish."

"Simon, do you have any idea how good Sylvia has been to you? Have you forgotten who arranged your mother's surgery? Who set up her follow-up treatment? A man shouldn't bite the hand that feeds him."

A sharp pain tore through my chest.

My mother's cerebral hemorrhage was caused by Morris.

He'd done it on purpose. At my wedding to my ex, Morris had projected their bedroom photos for everyone to see, then eloped with my fiancée right in front of the guests, leaving me as the laughingstock of the entire reception.

My mother collapsed from the shock.

To get her the treatment she needed, I transferred her from hospital to hospital until we ended up in Havenport, where I met Sylvia, a neurosurgery specialist. Over the course of my mother's treatment, Sylvia and I gradually fell in love.

I understood the threat buried in Betty's words. The Fox family had a reputation to uphold. If I ruined this wedding and embarrassed them today, my mother would be thrown out of their hospital.

"Mom!"

Sylvia cut Betty off, her tone measured but firm.

"Simon is my husband, and his mother is my mother-in-law. Taking care of her is my responsibility."

She turned to me, her voice soft and pleading.

"Honey, at the very least, for the sake of everything I've done for your mother, can we please not make a scene at our wedding?"

I dug my nails into my palms and let a wounded expression surface.

"Sylvia, do you really not know that stylist? Because he just whispered to me that you deliberately had him stamp my face to humiliate me on your behalf. That's why I got upset."

The moment the words left my mouth, the guests who had been looking at me with disapproval shifted to expressions of sympathy.

A muscle in Sylvia's cheek twitched. Then she smoothed it over with a reassuring smile.

"He was talking nonsense. He's just jealous that you married such a wonderful wife."

When I said nothing, she relented with a sigh.

"I'll file a complaint against him right now, okay?"

Only then did I let myself smile.

"Then swear on it."

"If you really do have something going on with him, if you've betrayed me, then we're getting a divorce."

Sylvia cooed and soothed me, raising her hand to swear.

The guests laughed warmly.

"You're overthinking it. Sylvia only has eyes for you."

Outside the door, Morris's face flashed past, twisted with venom at his failed scheme.

I didn't spare him a glance.

The wedding ended.

I was heading back to my room to change out of my suit when someone pressed a cloth over my nose and mouth.

I held my breath, closed my eyes, and played along.

Just like last time.

Morris and Sylvia stumbled down the hallway tangled in each other, shoving open the door to the room next door. They fell onto the bed, unable to hold back the sounds that followed.

I snapped my eyes open, slipped downstairs, and found the Fox parents chatting with guests.

This time, I didn't do what I'd done in my previous life. I didn't tell them Morris had drugged me and tried to climb into my bed.

Instead, I put on a worried expression.

"Mom, Dad, I think Sylvia had too much to drink. She doesn't look well."

Fergus and Betty, ever doting on their daughter, rallied immediately. Curious relatives trailed behind them, and the whole group followed me upstairs in a procession.

The moment we reached the door of the guest room, the muffled sounds from inside were unmistakable.

Every face in the crowd went rigid.

The Fox parents scrambled to cover it up, but I pushed the door wide open.

"Sylvia, are you feeling okay?"

The door swung back. Two entangled figures on the bed shot apart, frantically clawing at the sheets.

Through the crowd, Morris flashed me a triumphant grin.

In an instant, the hallway erupted.

"Oh my God, that man. Isn't that the stylist from this morning?"

"So Simon was telling the truth. Jesus..."

Fergus's face turned beet red. He bellowed in humiliation.

"Sylvia! Look at what you've done!"

Betty charged into the room and dragged Morris off the bed.

"This is all your fault! You must have drugged my daughter!"

She whipped around to Sylvia. "That's what happened, isn't it, sweetheart? We're calling the police! We'll have this animal thrown in prison!"

The moment those words left her mouth, the smugness drained from Morris's face.

His face went white, and he pulled Sylvia tight against him.

"Don't!"

Sylvia screamed, knocking the phone out of her mother's hand before she could dial.

Then she lifted her head and looked at me through the crowd.

Her eyes were dark, steady. Not a flicker of panic. Not a trace of guilt.

"Honey, let's talk."

The Fox parents cleared everyone out of the room.

That left just the three of us.

I didn't think there was anything left to talk about.

All I could think was: in this life, I hadn't sent Morris to prison. I hadn't let him rot behind bars. And yet she could still look me in the face without an ounce of shame.

For a moment, I couldn't tell if what filled my chest was bitterness or hatred.

I pulled off my wedding ring and tossed it into the trash.

My voice came out flat. "You swore an oath. If you ever lied to me, we'd divorce."

"Sylvia, I'll have the papers drawn up as soon as possible."

"Simon!"

She called after me from behind.

"I'm not divorcing you."

I spun around, and for the first time, I looked at her with real hatred.

"Then I'll file in court!"

"Go ahead and try!"

Sylvia's face was half-lost in the dim light of the room.

"You file for divorce, and I pull the plug on your mother's treatment. Immediately."

"I will make sure that no hospital in this city—no, in this entire country—will take her in."

"Sylvia!"

My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. My whole body was shaking, and I couldn't make it stop.

I imagined how I must have looked—pathetic, powerless, completely broken.

Because I saw Morris flash that gleeful smile again.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"If you love him, just divorce me! You two can be together out in the open! Why do you have to drag me into this?"

I looked at Sylvia through the tears burning in my eyes.

"I've already stepped aside for you. I have never done a single thing to wrong you! Why won't you just let me go?"

Sylvia's voice was perfectly calm.

"You haven't wronged me. But you've wronged Morris."

My eyes went wide.

"When did I ever—"

Sylvia let out a cold laugh.

"Every single girlfriend Morris ever had—you stole them, didn't you?"

"You, hiding behind that 'love tester' act, seduced every one of Morris's girlfriends. You slept with them. You pushed him into depression. He nearly killed himself!"

"You took that many people from him. It's only fair you find out what it feels like to have your own wife taken away."

"And your mother! Do you dare tell me what really caused her stroke?"

"Your mother went to Morris's wedding to cause a scene—all to help you steal yet another woman. She got screamed at until she collapsed. Your mother lying there half-dead? That's what she deserved."

My head exploded. A roar of white noise drowned out everything, and before I knew it, I was standing right in front of them.

My hand cracked across Sylvia's face.

But when I raised it again, swinging toward Morris—

Sylvia shoved me back.

"Enough! Even now, you're still bullying him!"

I wiped the tears from my face. Every word came out through gritted teeth.

"I never did any of that. None of it. Sylvia! Morris is the one who stole my girlfriends. He's the one who eloped with my ex at the wedding. He's the one who sent my mother into a stroke!"

"There are witnesses. There are text messages, all saved on my phone. You can check for yourself—"

"Enough!"

Sylvia's palm struck my face, cutting me off mid-sentence.

Her expression was ugly with contempt.

"Even now, after everything, you still won't admit it. You still won't repent."