Chapter 3
769 Words
Day Three.
A post appeared on the school forum:
Felix Smith's Fiancée Demands Astronomical Breakup Fee, Slashes Her Million-Dollar Wedding Dress After Getting Shut Down.
The photo showed me holding a pair of scissors. White tulle was everywhere, and my profile looked cold and sharp.
I looked like I'd lost my damn mind.
The comments section was a cesspool.
A: [She lives in his house, blows his cash, and then trashes the dress?]
B: [Just because her parents are gone, does she get a free pass to play the victim?]
C: [Mr. Smith bankrolled her for seven years, and this is the thanks he gets. What a total snake.]
Someone dug up the car accident that killed my parents. Someone even found photos from my mother's funeral.
The caption read: What a cursed family.
I sat in the back row of the classroom, my phone vibrating nonstop.
The students in front whispered among themselves.
"That's her?"
"I heard she's mentally unstable."
"And the Smiths still dare to marry her?"
That afternoon, the wedding planner called. The voice on the other end was overly polite.
"Miss Sterling, sorry to bother you. The Smiths mentioned that due to the bride's health, we need to prep two sets of protocols for the wedding timeline."
I stopped writing.
"Two sets? Like what?"
"One set if you personally attend. And a backup protocol if you're unavailable—Miss Jones will step in to complete the ceremony."
The bitter taste of blood hit the back of my throat.
"Who said my health is an issue?"
There was a pause.
"Well... the Smiths mentioned it involves fertility concerns and your mental state."
I hung up and opened my social media.
The London wedding circles were already buzzing with the news.
"Smith's bride-to-be is infertile and emotionally unstable—the savior might stand in for the wedding."
The attached photo was still the one of me with those scissors.
When Felix came to find me, I was in my advisor's office. An email from the overseas lab sat on my advisor's desk.
Admission—deferred. Reason: personal reputational risk.
Felix set his phone on the desk.
"I'll take the post down."
I lifted my head.
"Who posted it?"
He didn't answer.
"Who leaked the gossip to the wedding circles?"
Still no answer.
Then it clicked.
Shirley made the post. The Smiths fed the gossip machine. And he let it slide.
Three people, a flawless division of labor. Everyone's hands stayed clean, yet every single one of them was repulsive.
Felix slid a new wedding itinerary across the table to me.
"Nancy, there's still time to walk this back."
I picked it up to read.
October 18th. Grand Plaza Hotel. Six hundred guests. Bride: Nancy Sterling.
Tucked away in the backup plan was a line in small print— 'Should the bride be feeling unwell, Ms. Shirley Jones will accompany the groom during the wedding toasts.'
I slammed the itinerary onto the desk.
"You've already lined up a stand-in for my own wedding."
Felix's jaw tightened as he suppressed his anger.
"Shirley is just helping out."
"Helping out by wearing my wedding dress? Walking down my aisle? Carrying your baby?"
He pressed his palms flat on the desk edge.
"Nancy, what do you have left right now besides me?"
I looked him straight in the eye.
"I've got myself."
He let out a short laugh, dripping with pity.
"You can't even withdraw money from your account. You can't afford that penalty. Even the lab doesn't want you anymore. What exactly are you being so stubborn about?"
His phone rang. He picked it up, and Shirley's frantic sobs spilled through the speaker.
"Felix, people are tearing into me. They're calling me a homewrecker! I don't want to live anymore..."
Felix's face went completely pale. He grabbed his coat and bolted.
At the door, he paused and looked back at me.
"Nancy, don't make me choose between you and her."
The door clicked shut.
The office fell into absolute silence. My advisor watched me.
"Nancy..."
I shook my head.
"Professor, do you have any printer paper?"
I took a stack of blank sheets and sat at the very end of the hallway.
One by one, I listed them down.
The fake infertility certificate. The assisted reproduction authorization form. The wedding stand-in protocol. The forum account used to post the thread. The Smith Corporation frozen account details. The complaint email sent to the overseas lab.
When I reached the end, my pen tore right through the paper.
At the very top of the page, I wrote three words:
Dossier of Evidence.
- Writer
