The Wedding Disaster and She Gave Me Freedom

3

Over the next few days. I acted exceptionally “busy” and “obedient“.

Preston, true to his word, rarely showed his face, under the pretext of comforting the “unhappy” Felicity.

I was more than happy for the peace and quiet, which allowed me to focus all my energy on preparing for “my wedding” to Silas.

Silas’s efficiency was staggering. He used every connection he had and, in an incredibly short amount of time, not only cleared all the legal hurdles but also secretly hired the best security team to ensure everything on the wedding day would be foolproof.

We even managed to meet once in secret, at a quiet coffee shop on the outskirts of the city.

I hadn’t seen him in a few months, Silas had gotten a bit thinner, his features more defined. The boyish immaturity in his expression was gone, replaced by a steady, sharp maturity.

But the way he looked at me was still the same as it was years ago, filled with unconcealed concern and… some kind of deeply hidden emotion.

“Everything is pretty much set.”

He pushed a folder across the table to me, inside were the detailed schedule and contingency plans. “Linda has been a huge help. The venue, staff, and schedule are all according to the original plan, except the groom’s name and all related information have been replaced with mine. As for the guest list, your father and my father have teamed up to secretly inform all the friends and relatives who are truly on our side. They’ve agreed to play along.”

Flipping through the plans, I felt a sense of relief. “And the Calloways…”

“The Calloways received the original invitations. They’re probably still lost in the happy dream of getting an ‘understanding‘ daughter–in–law.”

A cold smirk touched the corner of Silas’s mouth. “As for Trevor, he’s busy helping Preston manage some shady business dealings. I doubt he has the time to look too closely into where the final invitations ended up.”

He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at me, a hint of worry in his eyes. “Sera, are you sure you want to do this? I mean, if you want to stop now, it’s not too late. I can take you away from here, anywhere you want to go.”

I shook my head, my gaze fixed and determined on the bustling traffic outside the window. “No, Silas. Running away won’t solve anything. They’ve wronged me for so many years, played me for a fool. I have to stand before them, head held high, and give it all back. This isn’t revenge, it’s… closure.”

Silas was quiet for a moment, then he gently took my hand, which was resting on the table. His palm was warm and dry, radiating a reassuring strength.

“Alright. Then I’ll be with you, and we’ll see this play through to the end.”

Three days before the wedding, Felicity actually showed up at my door.

She stood at the door of my condo holding an exquisite box of pastries, dressed in a white sundress, looking pitiful and fragile, her eyes slightly red as if she had been terribly wronged.

“Sera, I’m not bothering you, am I?” She asked, her voice soft and sticky, laced with a cautious attempt to curry favor.

I looked at her act and sneered inwardly.

With acting skills like these, it’s a real waste she’s not up for an Oscar.

“Felicity? What are you doing here? Come on in.”

I put on a flawless expression of surprise and warmth, stepping aside to let her in.

She walked into the living room, her eyes sweeping, as if unintentionally, over the engagement photo of Preston and me hanging on the wall. A flash of triumph crossed her face, quickly replaced by a look of guilt.

“Sera, I came to apologize to you,” she said, placing the pastry box on the coffee table and wringing her hands nervously. “About the invitations… I honestly had no idea they would be misprinted. It’s all my fault. I went to the print shop that day to check on them, and I must have been careless and grabbed the wrong sample…. Preston already chewed me out for it.”

As she spoke, her eyes grew redder, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. “Sera, you’re not mad at me, are you? I really didn’t do it on purpose… I know I’m not good enough for Preston. I’m perfectly happy just being by his side as his little sister. Please, don’t let this cause a fight between you and him. He really does love you.”

What a heartfelt performance of “repentance” and “self–sacrifice“.

Before, I might have been fooled by her act, maybe even ended up comforting her instead.

But now, watching her superb acting, I only felt disgusted.

I picked up one of the macarons she brought and took a small bite, it was cloyingly sweet. I put it down, wiped my hands with a napkin, and said in a perfectly calm voice.

“Felicity, what are you talking about? Why would I be mad at you?”

Felicity seemed unprepared for this reaction and froze for a second.

I looked at her, smiled slightly, and continued, “The print shop mixing up the samples, that’s a rookie mistake they really shouldn’t have made. But it’s fine. Preston already told me it was just a minor hiccup. He doesn’t care, so naturally, I don’t either.”

I deliberately emphasized the words “he doesn’t care“, and just as I expected, I saw a flash of resentment and panic in Felicity’s eyes.

She probably thought I would fly into a rage, or at least make some sarcastic remarks. That way, she could play the role of the innocent victim for Preston even better.

But I refused to play by her rules.

I stood up, walked over to the bar, and poured myself a glass of water. With my back to her, I said in a light tone, as if we were discussing the weather, “Besides, does it really matter whose name is on the invitation?”

Those words, and my tone, were almost identical to Preston’s.

Felicity’s head snapped up to look at me, her eyes filled with disbelief.

I turned around, leaned against the bar, and swirled the water in my glass. Looking at her, my smile deepened as I said pointedly.

“After all, on the wedding day, everyone will know who the real bride is. Some people… no matter how big their name is printed, they’ll always just be… a sideshow that can’t be seen in the light of day.”

Felicity’s face instantly turned deathly pale. She shot to her feet, her fingers twisting the fabric of her dress, her pitiful act completely gone. Her eyes were filled with the humiliated rage and venom of someone whose sore spot had just been exposed.

“Seraphina, you…”

“What about me?” I raised an eyebrow, looking at her innocently. “Felicity, you look terrible. Are you not feeling well? Should I call Preston to come pick you up?”

I mentioned Preston on purpose, like rubbing salt in her bleeding wound.

She glared at me, her chest heaving, and after a long moment, she forced out between clenched teeth, “No need! I’m perfectly fine!”

With that, she practically fled, even forgetting the box of pastries she’d brought.

I watched the door she had slammed shut, the smile on my face slowly fading, leaving only cold mockery.

She can’t even handle that?

The real show is just getting started.

Felicity, Preston, the humiliation and games you subjected me to, I will return them all on the wedding day, with interest.

I took out my phone and sent a text to Silas:

[The fish has taken the bait. It seems someone can’t wait to see me make a fool of myself.]

Silas’s reply came quickly, just four concise words:

[Just wait and see.]