It turned out everyone had known about Ryan and Claire all along—except me.

I grabbed the glass of water on the table and drained it in one go.

Just then, Claire walked in, frowning at the sound of their gossip.

"What are you all saying in front of my fiancé?"

She came over to me, wearing her usual sweet, caring expression.

"Ethan, don’t be upset. They were just practicing their French. They didn’t mean to leave you out."

The moment her hand brushed mine, a wave of disgust shot through me.

A second ago she had been fooling around with Ryan, and now she was playing the doting bride-to-be.

Everyone thought Claire loved me.

Once upon a time, I thought so too.

I calmly avoided her touch and, with a blank expression, said,

"The wedding is about to start. Go chat with them for a bit."

Claire didn’t think twice and turned back to her friends, speaking French again.

The group, emboldened after her scolding, teased her with mischievous smiles:

"Claire, you defend Ethan and still can’t stay away from Ryan. Who do you actually love?"

"Who says I can only love one? Ryan’s fun, but he’s not husband material. He’s just for playing around with."

Their laughter filled the room.

"Only Claire could juggle two men and keep her fiancé completely clueless."

Then someone turned the conversation toward Ryan:

"Claire’s about to get married. Aren’t you going to do anything special?"

Ryan chuckled. "Special? I’ve already stayed in Claire’s condo plenty of times. Every corner is full of our memories. And even if she marries Ethan, I can still drop by whenever I want. After all, Ethan’s my good buddy."

The more they said, the more revolting it became.

I suddenly shot to my feet, startling everyone.

They all turned to look at me as I kept a cold, hard face.

"I’m going to check if the ceremony is ready."

As I walked out, my thoughts swirled with memories of the years Claire and I had spent together.

Back then, she was the one who had pursued me.

She’d seemed gentle, understanding, rarely losing her temper. I’d thought she loved me wholeheartedly.

Over time, I let myself fall deeper and deeper.

I’d originally only come to New York on a short business trip.

But once I fell for Claire, I couldn’t bear to leave—so I stayed.

My family had called me several times, asking me to come back. I refused every time.

They didn’t approve of Claire, even threatening to cut ties with me, but I chose her anyway.

Years of devotion—turns out, it was all a joke.

Just then, the wedding planner approached me to go over the program one last time.

This wedding had been in the works for months, but I suddenly felt no joy at all.

"Simplify the whole program," I told him.

As I said it, it felt like something inside me had been lifted away.

I let out a long breath of relief.

I decided I’d let Claire go gracefully.

If she liked Ryan so much, I would give them my blessing.

Just as I was about to call Claire, one of the giant decorative posters nearby came loose and crashed down on me.

The call connected at that exact moment.

Hearing my cry of pain, Claire’s voice immediately grew anxious.

"Ethan, what happened? Are you hurt?"

I touched the spot where I’d been hit and felt the blood on my forehead.

"Nothing serious. Just a loose decoration that fell."

"Claire, can you come over right now? I need to talk to you about something."

I wanted to tell her face to face, end things cleanly. There were so many guests here today—it would give her some dignity.

"Okay. Where are you? I’ll come right away."

But before she could hang up, I heard a soft, breathy moan on the other end.

Then Ryan’s voice came through, the two of them switching to French so I wouldn’t understand.

"Where are you going? You look stunning in that wedding dress. You know, I’ve never had you while you were wearing it before."

His words were explicit, heavy with implication.

"Claire, you’re about to get married. You two will have plenty of time to talk later, but we don’t have that luxury. Don’t you want one last wild time? Right here, in this dressing room—wearing that dress?"

My heart pounded. I waited, hoping Claire would choose to come to me.

If she came, we could still part on decent terms.

I had loved her, after all. I didn’t want to humiliate her.

But her next words crushed what little hope I had left.

"Can’t we talk later or over the phone? I’m in the middle of getting my makeup done. I want to look perfect for you—I want to be the most beautiful bride in the room."

Her voice was breathless, as if she was already giving in to temptation.

My heart sank completely. Whatever last bit of hope I’d been holding on to was gone.

To Claire, I was just a safe, convenient choice. A man who made her feel secure—nothing more.

When I stayed silent, she assumed I’d hung up.

And then, with no shame at all, she and Ryan went right back to each other.

Between moans, they talked about what life would be like after I married her.

"Claire, even after you’re married, you can’t forget about me. I’ll come by every week. You won’t mind, right?"

"Well, Ethan isn’t from New York. For him to afford a condo here, he must have emptied his whole family’s savings. I should definitely make the most of it."

Her voice came through, broken but smug.

"It’s just a condo. If I want something, he won’t dare refuse. I’ll get him to sign the deed over to me soon. Once I’m the official owner, I can tell the building management to let you in whenever you want."

My jaw clenched so hard it ached.

I didn’t say a word. I just hung up, patched up my wound as best I could, and went to find the wedding planner.

This time, I had an additional request.

The wedding was about to begin.

That’s when Claire Dawson and Ryan Brooks finally showed up. Claire’s cheeks were flushed—anyone who didn’t know better might think she was just a shy bride.

The wedding planner glanced at me, then quickly went over the program with us.

Soon after, I was called up to the stage. Claire waited outside the door until the music started, then walked in slowly, gracefully, like the perfect bride.

The officiant handed me the microphone.

"Mr. Miller, do you have something you’d like to say to your bride?"

I took the mic, looked through the crowd at Claire, and said coldly,

"What I want to say is this: this wedding is canceled."

Gasps rippled through the room. Every head turned toward me in shock.

Claire’s friends tried to smooth things over.

"He must be too excited—he just misspoke! I think what he meant was the wedding starts now!"

"Exactly, he’s just nervous. First-time grooms always mess up a little."

But I stood there, unmoved. Nervous? Not even close.

"You heard me right. This wedding is canceled. It shouldn’t be me marrying Claire—it should be Ryan."

The room went dead quiet. People who knew the truth exchanged quick glances; those who didn’t were getting agitated, especially Mr. and Mrs. Dawson.

They had never liked me, always treating me like some outsider who didn’t deserve their daughter.

I had worked for years to win them over. They had demanded I buy a luxury condo in Manhattan and a car worth at least six figures.

I did all of it. And still, every word out of their mouths carried that smug sense that they’d gotten the better end of the deal.

Now Mrs. Dawson nearly lunged at me, her face twisted with rage.

"Ethan Miller, do you know what day this is? How dare you pull a stunt like this and trample all over our family’s dignity!"

"I never liked you—you’re not even from New York! No manners, no class—and where are your parents? Not even here to see their son get married!"

"Claire marrying you is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. We agreed only because you seemed quiet and dependable, and this is how you repay us?"

Her voice broke into a wail as she went on, even accusing me of having another woman.

"No one humiliates my daughter like this. I’ll make sure you pay!"

She grabbed a plate off the table and hurled it at me.

Guests scrambled to calm her down.

"There must be some misunderstanding. Maybe the couple is just joking around. They love each other—he wouldn’t do this otherwise."

Under everyone’s coaxing, Mrs. Dawson finally calmed down enough to sneer at me:

"Ethan, get down on your knees right now and apologize to me and my daughter. If you do, I’ll pretend I never heard what you just said."

I stood still, letting her rant.

I had expected this. For years, every time I did something she didn’t like, she’d threaten to call the wedding off.