The Billionaire Rejected Bride.

The cake was still downstairs. Three tiers. White and gold. Real fresh roses on top. I had spent three weeks arguing with the baker in Lagos about the exact shade of gold. I wanted it perfect. I wanted everything perfect. Perfect for the man I thought loved me. Music was still playing downstairs. My wedding reception was still going on. People were dancing, eating, laughing. But I had come upstairs because I felt dizzy. My white wedding dress was too heavy and my feet were hurting from the heels I was not used to wearing. That was the excuse I told myself. The real truth was, I had seen my husband Ethan and my stepsister Sophia disappear upstairs twenty minutes ago together. And my heart would not stop beating fast like a drum. I told myself to stop thinking stupid things. Amara, stop it. This is your wedding day. Ethan loves you. He stood in church four hours ago and said "I do" in front of God and everybody. Sophia is your sister. You raised her since she was twelve years old after her mother married your father. She would never do that to you. She calls you big sis. I walked slowly to our bedroom door. The door was half open. I could hear sounds from inside. I thought I was hallucinating at first because of stress. A woman moaning. A man groaning. The bed creaking. Our bed. The matrimonial bed that I had decorated that same morning with clean white bedsheets and red rose petals that I arranged myself one by one because I wanted my first night as a wife to be special and memorable. My hand started shaking seriously on the doorknob. My breath stopped. My chest tight. I pushed the door open. Sophia was on top of him. Her pink bridesmaid dress, the one I personally paid for and selected for her, was pulled up to her waist. Her hair was scattered everywhere. My husband, Ethan Knight, the same man I just married four hours ago, was under her, holding her waist tightly. He was still wearing his wedding suit trousers. His shirt was on the floor beside the rose petals. Time stopped for me. Everything went silent. Sophia saw me first. She looked straight into my eyes while still on top of my husband on my wedding bed. And she smiled. A small, wicked, evil smile that I will never forget. "Oops," she said, not even moving away. Ethan turned his head and saw me. I will never forget that look for the rest of my life. There was no guilt inside his eyes. No shame. No panic. Only irritation. Like I was a house help that walked into his room without knocking. He didn't even push her off his body. "Amara? What are you doing here?" he said, his voice very cold and annoyed. What am I doing here? In my own bedroom? In my own matrimonial home? On my own wedding night? My mouth opened but no sound came out. My eyes were already filled with tears but I refused to let them fall because my wedding makeup was still fresh and I didn't want to look more stupid. Sophia finally climbed down from him, lazily adjusting her dress. She walked past me to the door and intentionally used her shoulder to bump me hard. "It was just fun, big sis," she whispered in my ear as she passed with a laugh. "You were always too boring for him anyway. Did you really think a man like Ethan would love you?" I couldn't move. My legs were locked to the floor. My white wedding dress suddenly felt like a costume that was too tight and too heavy. Ethan stood up from the bed and started buttoning his shirt calmly like nothing happened. He looked at me with pure disgust. "Look, let's not make this dramatic and start your usual crying," he said. "You knew this marriage was business from the start. Your father begged my father to marry you before he died. I only said yes because of the land deal in Banana Island. I never loved you for one day. I have always loved Sophia. She is everything you are not." My father died two years ago. He loved Ethan like his own son. He told me on his sick bed, Amara, Ethan will take care of you, trust him. "You... you said you loved me," I whispered. My voice broke into pieces. I hated myself for that broken voice. I wanted to sound strong. He laughed. A short, cruel, heartless laugh. "I said what I needed to say so you would sign the documents quickly at the registry. Come on, Amara. Look at yourself in the mirror. And look at Sophia. Who do you think any real man would choose?" He opened the drawer of our bedside table and threw a brown envelope at me. It hit my chest and fell to the floor with a loud sound. "Divorce papers. My lawyer already prepared it last week, even before the wedding. Sign it tomorrow morning and leave my house before 9am. Don't try to take anything from this house. My father will make sure you get absolutely nothing if you try to be stubborn and drag this." He walked past me too. He didn't touch me. He didn't even look at me again. I stood alone in that cold room, in my wedding dress that now felt like a prison uniform, listening to them go downstairs laughing. I heard Sophia's loud laugh. I heard Ethan telling the DJ to increase the volume of the music. And then I heard the MC announcing that the couple is now cutting the wedding cake. My wedding cake. That was when the tears finally came. Hot, painful, heavy tears that burned my eyes. I didn't scream. I didn't fight or shout like they expected. I just bent down, picked up the divorce papers from the floor where he threw it, picked up my small handbag that had my phone and my ATM card with only 50,000 naira inside it, removed my heavy wedding heels and carried them in my hand, and I walked out of that big mansion barefooted that night. I didn't know I was already two weeks pregnant with his child as I entered a night bus to Port Harcourt. That night inside that bus, crying silently so other passengers would not hear me, I promised myself one thing: If God helps me survive this shame and this pain, I will become so powerful and so rich that Ethan Knight will one day kneel down in front of everybody and beg me for forgiveness. And when that day comes, I will not forgive him.