On the wedding day, I was rear-ended by an influencer with millions of followers. My lawyer husband arrived at the scene and insisted I apologize. He even transferred a million from our wedding fund to compensate the influencer. Even more absurd, he left all the guests, canceled the wedding, and personally accompanied the influencer for a medical checkup. He even became her lawyer and countersued me for “hit and run.” This obvious manipulation by the other woman made me a laughingstock online. Until that night, the influencer live-streamed herself flaunting a wedding ring and dress identical to mine—three years earlier. Turns out, I was the one intruding on someone else’s relationship. But I was wrong again. The truth was even more appalling: the influencer was my husband’s brother’s true love. And my husband, who idolized his brother, had agreed to fulfill his late brother’s last wish by supporting both households. After learning the truth, I took off my wedding ring and held a “bachelor ceremony” for this so-called “romantic saint.” Since we’re going to shock people, why not let all the influencers his brother knew experience this “harem-like bliss”?
On the wedding day, I was driving the bridal car alone and got hit. My forehead slammed into the front seat, causing sharp pain. Before I could react, a woman with a phone rushed in front of my car, pointing the camera right at my face. “Fam, look! The Rolls Royce lady hit someone and wants to run!” I recognized her, the influencer Nora, with over ten million followers, the “epitome of allure.” The comments exploded immediately. “Does having money make you superior?” “That bride’s makeup can’t hide her scheming vibe!” I clenched my wedding dress, about to explain when she suddenly screamed and fell: “She pushed me! My leg is broken!” The live stream viewers shot up to 300,000. Declan’s call came faster than 911. Seeing the call from my so-called “undefeated reputation” lawyer husband calmed my frantic emotions a bit. Just as I wanted to ask him for help with this mess, the first thing he said was, “Apologize to her immediately.” “But she clearly…” “Lydia!” His voice was gentle, as if coaxing a child. “Don’t make it hard for me.” Five minutes later, his Mercedes screeched to a halt at the scene. Ignoring the swelling on my forehead, Declan knelt to wipe Nora’s tears. He turned to me and coldly ordered, “Apologize in public!” I was stunned: “Declan, aren’t you going to ask what happened?” He enunciated each word: “I said, apologize.” Nora suddenly added, “Besides an apology, I want 100,000 for medical and emotional distress.” Immediately, I heard him call the finance department: “Transfer 150,000 from the wedding fund to Miss Lin.” I stood there, too angry to think straight. Nora smugly waved her phone: “Attorney Declan, you’re really sensible.” “But just an apology and compensation won’t do; my leg seems injured and needs an examination.” Then Declan turned to me: “Today’s wedding is canceled and will be rescheduled.” “I’ll take her to the hospital for a thorough checkup.” “What?!” I almost shouted: “All the guests are waiting at the hotel!” “I said, postponed.” Declan’s look brooked no argument. The man supported Nora into the car, not even giving me an explanatory glance. The whole internet watched my abandonment live, with a trending hashtag #SchemingBrideFails. It wasn’t until late at night that Declan messaged: “She has a concussion. You should prepare the guest room in the bridal suite and take care of her for a few days.” The bridesmaid who stayed with me all night smashed her phone in anger. “That woman’s knee bruise is drawn with concealer! The live replay shows she peeked at the camera before falling!” She hesitated before warning me: “Declan’s behavior is too abnormal.” “They don’t seem like they’re meeting for the first time.” I sneered; it’s obvious from Declan’s previous concern for Nora. Even a blind person could tell what their relationship was. But really, when did the cliché plot of a mistress power struggle become so blatant?
I stared at my phone screen, my fingernails digging into my palm. Back at the bridal suite, before I could calm down, the doorbell rang. Two police officers stood outside. “Are you Miss Genevieve? Someone reported you for a hit and run, please cooperate with the investigation.” I was stunned: “What? It was clearly Nora who rear-ended me!” The police handed over a document expressionlessly. “Your dashcam shows your car indeed collided with another car and left after the accident.” My dashcam? Right after the incident, Declan took it, saying he needed to investigate the real situation. At the police station, sure enough, there sat Declan and Nora side by side. The woman showed her bruised thigh, letting Declan check it. The comments flooded the screen: “So disgusting, hit someone and still wants to run!” “Attorney Declan, hurry up and dump her.” “Honestly, Attorney Declan and our sister Nora look good together.” Then the police said, “Miss Genevieve, Miss Lin provided new evidence showing you indeed had the intention to flee after the collision.” I saw a heavily edited video, only showing me getting out of the car to “push” someone and turning my head. There was no context of Nora deliberately faking the accident, making me look like an arrogant rich girl. “This is not complete.” Even then, I hadn’t grasped the situation, pointing at Declan. “Just as well, my husband is right there.” “He’s a lawyer; he’ll represent me.” Declan walked over and suddenly said, “Nora is a friend of an old acquaintance, entrusted to my care.” “I’m now her attorney.” “My client has suffered severe emotional distress and demands you be held fully accountable.” I looked up, almost unable to believe my ears. I slammed the table: “Declan, what acquaintance, give me a break!” “You’re treating your wife like this for some influencer, what do you take me for!” “And you, Nora, aren’t you tired of this self-directed drama?” Declan remained unmoved, sternly saying, “Lydia, don’t be ridiculous.” “Watch your words, or Miss Lin will add defamation charges.” The police awkwardly coughed: “Given the lack of evidence, we suggest mediation.” Just then, my attorney, whom I contacted after failing to reach Declan, rushed in. During the mediation, Nora live-streamed the whole time. Declan kept proposing harsh conditions: a public apology across the internet, compensation for medical expenses, deletion of all related comments… Nora suddenly interjected: “The place I’m staying now is too far from the hospital, inconvenient for follow-ups…” “You just said she’d take care of me for a few days, but I’m not used to living with others.” Declan immediately continued, “Lydia, then please move out of the bridal suite until she recovers.” Ha, at this point, nothing he says surprises me anymore. “Don’t worry, I’ll divorce you and move out of the bridal suite.” But I just want to ask one question, even if I die, I want to die knowing the truth. I looked Declan in the eyes: “Did you really cheat with someone like her?” The man frowned and said, “Genevieve, speaking objectively, you hurt someone, and it’s only right to apologize and make amends.” “Don’t spread rumors; Nora and I are innocent.” “If I, Declan, have done anything to betray you, I’ll leave the legal profession and die a horrible death!” I was stunned. He dared to curse himself like this; could it be that I’ve misunderstood? But then what does all this happening before me mean? Am I having a mental breakdown?
Leaving the police station, I immediately contacted my best friend, Yara. Since lawyers rely on evidence, I’ll get you evidence. Sure enough, I found records of his frequent contacts with Nora over the past six years. Declan transferred money to Nora every month, ranging from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands. The most laughable was the record from Christmas five years ago. It was our first holiday after getting together, yet he said he had an urgent case. At that time, I was starting my business and was struggling. He left me alone in a shabby rental eating instant noodles. But that day he transferred 200,000 to Nora. There was also another document showing he owned an apartment where Nora had been living for the past year. I remember this apartment; he bought it a year ago, and back then, he told me he was on a business trip. So every time he said he was “working late” or “on a business trip,” he was with her? I clutched these documents but didn’t know where to start, finding it odd. All the transfer details were noted as “medical expenses.” Does this prove infidelity? It doesn’t seem like concrete evidence of cheating. I also asked someone to check Declan’s phone and email but found no hotel reservations or intimate photos. This was too unusual. Just when I was at a loss, I found a recording of one of Nora’s live streams. Just a few days ago, she wore a diamond ring on her left ring finger, glaringly obvious. It was identical to the engagement ring Declan gave me. The comments scrolled wildly: “Is Nora getting married?” “That ring’s at least five carats!” Nora covered her mouth with a coy smile, turned, and opened a wardrobe, pulling out an ivory-white wedding dress. The dress was just like mine, even with the same embroidered rose pattern Declan suggested. These images stabbed at my eyes, surely Declan got what he deserved! I forwarded this evidence to him, but after three hours, still no explanation came. Yet, I saw Declan in another of Nora’s live streams. The woman sat in an upscale restaurant, the background familiar with floor-to-ceiling windows and a piano performance area. That was “Starlight Bay,” where Declan and I confirmed our relationship. The background music was playing “Dream Wedding.” It was the song Declan used when he confessed to me. Suddenly, I remembered today was our five-year dating anniversary. The man opposite Nora didn’t appear on screen, but the hand with distinct joints wore the Rolex watch I gave him. I forwarded the evidence to the man and waited for three hours without receiving any explanation. Then I saw Declan again in another of Nora’s live streams. She was sitting in an upscale restaurant, with the familiar floor-to-ceiling window and piano area in the background. It was Starlight Bay, where Declan and I had solidified our relationship. The background music was playing “Dream Wedding,” the song Declan used to confess his love to me. Suddenly, I remembered that today was our 5th anniversary. The man sitting across from Nora wasn’t in the frame, but his hand, distinct with its pronounced joints, wore the Rolex watch I had given him. The comments asked, “How long have you been together?” Nora replied, “Seven years today.” I froze instantly. So, all these years, except for last year when he was with me, he always had excuses to be absent: overtime the year before, business trips, friends’ weddings before that. It turns out I was the other woman all along. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Then Adeline sent me another link, leading me to Declan’s private social media account. The latest update was from ten minutes ago, showing a candlelight dinner identical to Nora’s. But the caption read, “Seventh year, #fulfilling my brother’s life#.” My mind raced. A brother Declan never mentioned, fulfilling… What does this mean? Declan, what exactly are you hiding?
I clicked into this tag and immediately froze. It was filled with Declan and Nora’s “daily love life.” The most shocking was a post from four years ago: Today is my brother’s death anniversary, and Nora had a breakdown. She mistook me for you and instinctively called me “husband.” But I stayed silent, couldn’t agree. Because I met another girl whom I love dearly and want to marry. But don’t worry, brother. Whatever my wife has, Nora will surely have too. So, he gave her a matching ring, ordered a similar wedding gown, and even the proposal was ceremonious. Anniversaries were fair too; last year he spent with me, this year was Nora’s turn. He managed the balance skillfully. Not long after, my phone buzzed with a message from Declan: “The wedding continues tomorrow, please be understanding.” I stared at the screen, laughed coldly, and replied: “Okay.” Then pocketed my phone. Since Declan wanted to keep acting, I had to end this charade myself. The next day, the wedding venue was packed with guests. I walked arm in arm with Declan, step by step toward the stage. Suddenly, the doors swung open. As expected, Nora walked in wearing the same wedding gown as mine. At this moment, the banquet hall’s big screen suddenly lit up. Instead of displaying our wedding photos, it showed Declan and Nora embracing in the bridal suite. He was gently putting on a wedding ring identical to mine for Nora. He said, “Nora, I’ll take care of you for life.” The timestamp was from six years ago. The whole room gasped. Nora’s face was tear-streaked, looking like a tragic lover harshly separated by me. But she didn’t forget to hold up her phone to live-stream, and flashlights instantly focused on me. “Everyone, judge for yourselves. Declan and I have been in love for years, Genevieve is the mistress!” The comments exploded. “Whoa! Mistress caught at a high-profile wedding?!” “The bride doesn’t look like a good person!” “Poor girl! Bravely pursuing love.” “Original partner turned mistress, drama of the year!” Declan quickly turned to look at me. I gritted my teeth and said, “Declan, our wedding, why is there another leading lady?” Looking at Nora’s convincingly fake face, I couldn’t take this humiliation. I raised my hand to slap Nora, but Declan grabbed my hand. “Don’t be impulsive, Nora is just emotionally unstable.” I ignored him, grabbed a wine glass, and hurled it at her. Declan turned without hesitation, and red wine splashed all over his suit. Yet he shielded Nora, glaring at me, “Don’t go crazy!” I shook off Declan’s hand, stepped onto the stage, and grabbed the host’s microphone. Then I displayed screenshots from Declan’s private social media on the big screen. “Don’t worry, brother, I’ll take good care of Nora for you.” “Everything my wife has, she’ll have too.” Most glaring was a wedding photo with Nora. Below it read: “The wedding photo she wanted, I took for you too. I’ll also figure out a way to fulfill the honeymoon for you and her.” As soon as this image appeared, the whole room gasped again. Suddenly, the wedding door was pushed open once more. A group of influencers with faces similar to Nora’s rushed into the wedding venue holding signs saying “Share the love.” I tore off my veil, revealing a bright red smile, and said, “Welcome to Declan’s bachelor ceremony!” “Declan, these are all the influencers your brother had contact with.” “Since you’re so devoted, why not let them share the love too?”
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