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.

I had always backed down.

I told myself Claire loved me, told myself that whatever happened, it was our life together on the line.

Claire had always pleaded with me.

"Ethan, I know my mom can be unreasonable, but she just cares about me."

"Do it for me. Be patient with her, meet her demands. Please."

Because of that, I had run myself ragged. When Mrs. Dawson was hospitalized, I took care of everything. When Mr. Dawson got sick, I was there, personally looking after him—Claire never even showed up.

She told me she was on a business trip with Ryan. Looking back, I bet the two of them were off enjoying their little honeymoon.

"I’m not apologizing," I said flatly. "Honestly, I didn’t even want to go through with this wedding. And if you want a reason, why don’t you ask your daughter?"

I turned to Claire, met her panicked gaze, and said coldly,

"You don’t even love me. Why force yourself? If Ryan is the one you want, then go be with him. I’ll do you the favor of stepping aside."

Every eye in the room swung toward Claire. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Her relatives and friends started whispering among themselves.

"Haven’t they always been so close? The Dawsons should be lucky to have a son-in-law like him."

"He’s been nothing but devoted, and now suddenly he doesn’t want to get married? Something must have happened."

"I always said Claire wasn’t as innocent as she looked. I’ve seen her out with other men plenty of times."

"No man would put up with that kind of betrayal."

The whispers turned into a chorus of suspicion, jealousy, and speculation, and Claire’s face grew paler by the second.

Mrs. Dawson snapped back, furious.

"Don’t you dare slander my daughter! If you’re going to accuse her, show me proof. Or I’ll sue you for defamation!"

Then she turned on me again.

"I see what this is. You played the obedient son-in-law just long enough to win us over, and now you humiliate us on purpose!"

"You think you can hold my daughter hostage with this drama? Forget it!"

"Either explain yourself right now, get down on your knees and apologize, or there’s no wedding at all!"

"Mom!" Claire rushed forward and grabbed her mother’s arm.

"Mom, it’s all a misunderstanding. Ethan’s been with me for so long, I know he truly loves me. He probably just misunderstood my friendship with Ryan."

She lowered her head, tears in her eyes, playing the part of the heartbroken bride.

She looked at me pleadingly.

"Ethan, I’ve told you before—Ryan and I are just close friends."

"I know it looks suspicious since we’re always together, but Ryan’s gay. To me, he’s like a sister. I never saw him as a man."

"If it bothers you so much, fine. After we’re married, I won’t see him anymore."