They Stole My Wedding I Returned To Paris

Thunderous applause and cheers erupted around me. The guests chanted in unison. "Congratulations, Vanessa and Damian!" I stood alone, shut out from the celebration like some pathetic outsider. I gripped my phone and fought down another wave of morning sickness. I stepped forward and caught Damian by the arm, my voice hoarse. "What the hell is this, Damian? Who exactly is getting married today?" Damian's brows drew together. He shook off my hand without sympathy. He lowered his voice, his tone icy. "Everyone here matters. Look at you, pale, exhausted, barely holding yourself together. You can't stand up there looking like that. Have you thought about what it would do to Whitmore Group's reputation? "Vanessa was kind enough to step in. You should be thanking her." A fist seemed to close around my heart. What Damian didn't know was that relentless morning sickness had left me unable to sleep. I had planned to wait until the pregnancy was safely established before telling him. But as I watched him defend Vanessa without hesitation, that surprise suddenly felt pointless. "Fine." I swallowed the acid burning my throat. With my eyes stinging red, I turned to leave. My mother stepped in front of me. She lowered her voice. "Sienna, I'm begging you. Everyone is watching. If you walk out now, you'll humiliate your sister." I was too weak to break free. My mother dragged me to the head table. Just then, Vanessa approached in the custom wedding gown that had been made for me, carrying two glasses of red wine. I stared at the dress on her body. I had once asked Damian why the gown's waist was 2 centimeters too small. He had laughed. "They got the measurements wrong. Skip a few meals, and it'll fit." So I had starved myself, yet I still couldn't squeeze into it the day before the wedding. Now I understood. The gown had never been mine. It had been tailored for Vanessa from the start. By the time I came back to myself, Vanessa was holding one of the glasses out to me. Her voice was gentle. "Sienna, this is the happiest day of my life. Even if you won't congratulate me, you can at least have a toast." I turned my head away and said coldly, "I'm not drinking." Damian's expression darkened at once. "Sienna Hart! We're already legally married. Vanessa is only standing in for you at the ceremony, so what exactly are you throwing a tantrum about?" My father looked displeased, his tone stern. "Do as you're told. Don't embarrass your sister." My mother grabbed my hand and tried to make me take the glass. I looked at the people who called themselves my family. Numb, I reached out and accepted the wine from Vanessa. But the instant my fingers touched the glass, a vicious bolt of pain tore through my palm! I looked down, my eyes widening. Someone had used a sharp tool to carve several nearly invisible, razor-edged grooves into the outside of the wineglass. "Ah..." I sucked in a sharp breath and jerked my hand back. The glass slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor. Blood poured from my left palm and dripped between my fingers—a horrifying sight. Damian immediately grabbed Vanessa's hands and inspected them. "Vanessa, are you okay? Did any glass hit you?" Only after confirming that she was unharmed did he turn to me, his voice cold. "You can't even hold a glass. Go get that bandaged and stop holding up the ceremony." I looked up at Damian. There had been a time when even the smallest scrape from polishing jewelry would have had him summoning our doctor in the middle of the night. He would cradle my hand like a priceless treasure. As he gently applied ointment, he would promise me, "Sunny, these hands are going to design the most beautiful jewelry in the world. I'll protect them. I won't let anything hurt you!" But I was no longer the person he wanted to protect. He had become the one hurting me. 'If that's how it is, Damian, then I'm done with you.'