sent me an invitation: her wedding. She wanted me to watch her victory.
I wasn’t there to mourn. I had a plan.
The ceremony was flawless, guests dazzled in gold and ivory. Stan grinned at Erica, pretending adoration. I almost laughed. Enjoy it while you can, I thought, sipping champagne.
By the reception, the hall buzzed. I slipped a flash drive into the projector. Seconds later, Stan’s voice rang out:
“Erica means nothing! I love you, Paige!”
Gasps filled the room as footage from my security cameras revealed Erica and Stan sneaking into my home, laughing in my bed, thinking I’d never know. Her perfect day shattered in an instant.
Then Jack, my rock, appeared—disguised as a waiter—and proposed. Right there, in front of everyone.
“Yes!” I said. The room erupted. Erica’s face twisted with rage.
I walked out, hand in hand with Jack, leaving my sister humiliated.
She stole my fiancé, but I stole the show—and found the love I deserved.
