Chapter 5
After showering, I collapsed on the hotel bed when my phone buzzed.
Someone was trying to add me on social media.
I accepted the request, and they immediately sent me a bunch of photos.
Every single picture was of Dylan and Mia. In my house. On my bed–the bed that was supposed to be for our wedding night–going at it like rabbits.
The last message read: [Smart girls know when to walk away.]
typed back: [Some people love taking out the trash. I’m happy to let her have it.]
Then I turned off my phone and went to sleep.
When I woke up, the sun was already high. After breakfast, I headed back to reclaim my house.
But when I opened the front door, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
The place was decorated with balloons and streamers everywhere. The walls were covered with poster–sized wedding photos of Dylan and Mia.
And there were like twenty people I’d never seen before just… there. Sitting on my furniture, raiding ny fridge, drinking out of my glasses.
My books and important papers were scattered all over the floor. The antique pieces I’d bought at auctions, the expensive gifts from my parents–these strangers were passing them around like party avors. Some were already broken on the ground.
I took a deep breath and turned off their speaker system.
Everyone turned to glare at me.
‘Who are you people and why are you in my house?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
They all looked at each other confused. “Your house? This is Mia’s place, isn’t it?”
“We’re here for the wedding. Who the hell are you?”
16:27
He Left Me for His Ex’s Kid, I Found My Billionaire Husband
33.3
Chapter 3
I could barely get the words out. “Wedding? Dylan and Mia are having their wedding reception
here?”
That’s when someone pointed at me and yelled, “Oh my God, I recognize her! You’re that home–wrecking bitch!”
Before I could explain anything, someone threw their coffee right in my face. “The audacity! A
mistress showing up to crash the wedding!”
Then all hell broke loose. They were all over me, hitting and kicking.
I tried to fight back, but there were too many of them.
They knocked me to the ground and just kept going. Some were beating me up, others were trying to rip my clothes off, and a few were filming it all on their phones, screaming about exposing the “slutty home–wrecker” to the internet.
I tried to cover my face, but they grabbed my hands and pulled them away.
They held down my arms and legs while someone hung a dirty shoe around my neck.
They were spitting on me, calling me every name in the book.
I was crying, but it didn’t matter. They were getting off on humiliating me.
Finally, someone shouted, “The bride and groom are back!”
stopped hitting me and rushed toward the door.
struggled to get up and saw Dylan in his tuxedo with Mia in her wedding dress.
Dylan looked shocked when he saw me all beaten up. He hurried over and whispered, “I thought you left. The wedding isn’t real–it’s just for Tyler. We’re putting on a show.”
I looked at him coldly. “Are the bruises on my face part of the show? What about my broken antiques?”
Dylan frowned, clearly annoyed with my response.
16:27
