My Dead Fiancé Was Marrying My Best Friend

Chapter 2

The crowd murmured among themselves.

"This woman is so shameless! Throwing herself at him to be the other woman!"

"Mr. Reed is about to get married, yet she chased him all the way to Valdoria. She must be desperate for a man!"

Owen looked at me like I was trash.

I yelled, my eyes red, "I'm not a mistress! I'm Ezra's fiancée! We got engaged seven years ago!"

But no one believed me.

Ezra stood by, gently wiping away the lingering tears from the corners of Isla's eyes, leaving me to be torn apart by the crowd.

I stood helplessly in place, trembling as I pulled out my phone. I said, "Ezra's mother can testify!"

For seven years after Ezra died, I had been the one caring for his mother. Even when his mother had kidney surgery, I had been the one waiting on her hand and foot until she recovered. Once the call went through, the truth would come to light.

A ringtone suddenly rang out from behind a pillar. I froze on the spot.

My gaze passed over the crowd, immediately catching sight of a familiar figure. The old woman I had called "Mom" for seven years, whom I had bathed every day after work, was now standing beside the pillar in a bright formal dress.

Ridiculously, she showed no hint of embarrassment at being caught. Instead, she rushed forward, jabbed a finger in my face, and cursed, "You shameless vixen! I already told you my son isn't interested in you! Pestering me every day back home wasn't enough for you, so you came here to ruin the wedding! What are you up to?!"

She frantically tore at my hair and clothes, shouting, "You cheap slut! You even want to hit my son?! I've put up with you for too long!"

The slap sent my head snapping to the side, my mouth filling with the sweet, metallic taste of blood. Lost in the shock of betrayal, I even forgot to resist, letting her push me around like a puppet.

So she had known all along that Ezra faked his death. She had pretended to be paralyzed all these years just to trap me! While enjoying my care with a clear conscience, she had also brazenly attended her son's wedding. The truth was being peeled back layer by layer, bloody and raw, and my heart had already gone numb from the pain.

My bag was ripped open. A stack of yellowed plane tickets scattered across the floor. Those were the ticket stubs from the three years of our long-distance relationship, when Ezra flew ten thousand kilometers to see me. Once a month, thirty-six tickets. I had always carried them with me.

Ezra's gaze landed on the tickets, and his face paled for a moment. He shouted, "Mom! Stop it!"

He pulled his mother away, hastily picked up the tickets, and stuffed them into his pants pocket. Then he turned to the crowd and said, "Sorry about that, everyone. Just a private matter. Isla, look after everyone and have them grab a bite first. The ceremony will start a bit later."

He dragged me into the woods nearby. Then he pulled out a bank card and shoved it into my hand.

He spoke quickly, not daring to look at me: "Maren, all these years, I truly wronged you. There's a million on this card. Consider it my compensation to you. Take the money and get on the first flight back. Let's just pretend we never knew each other."

I looked at the card in my hand and laughed. I said, "Compensation? My ten years of youth, my love without reservation—how could you possibly compensate for that?"

He frowned, looking at me like I was nothing but a burden, and replied, "It is what it is. All I can do is say sorry."

I asked through gritted teeth, "Why Isla? You argued every day in college. Didn't you say she was vain and snobbish?"

Ezra was silent for a long time, then sighed. "Maren, people change! Back when Isla was transferred to the overseas branch, you were the one who told me to take care of her. But no matter how deep a long-distance relationship is, it can't compare with daily companionship. Even after I learned she was the one who saved my life during that freshman basketball game, when I had a cerebral hemorrhage, I still did my best to suppress my feelings. Until the lab explosion seven years ago, when Isla fearlessly rushed into the fire and carried me out... Maren, I can't betray her. If you want to blame someone, blame me for being selfish and cowardly. I didn't want to be branded a scumbag, and I was too afraid of seeing you break down. Instead of breaking up with you, I chose to fake my death..."

My eyes widened in shock. I was the one who took him to the clinic during that basketball game! Back then, Isla had desperately tried to stop me, saying, "Maren, don't mind him. What if he ends up paralyzed and pins the blame on you!"

This stupid man couldn't even recognize his own savior. But I didn't want to explain anymore, because it was unnecessary. Right now, I just wanted answers for all these years of lies.

I slapped the card against his chest and said, "What if I don't leave?"

Ezra was stunned, his gaze turning cold. "Maren, don't push me. I won't let you hurt Isla!"

I scoffed aloud. In an instant, I remembered that time with severe pneumonia, when I sent him a message late at night saying I missed him. Ezra immediately took a 15-hour flight, crossing two countries to rush to my bedside. He held me in his arms and promised, "Maren, I will protect you for the rest of my life." But now, he was protecting someone else.

Just then, Isla trotted over and said, "Ezra, Holden Ford is looking for you."

Ezra glared at me and said, "You'd better leave right now."

The moment he left, Isla took my hand, looking pitiful. "Maren, for old times' sake, just forgive me, will you? I'm pregnant. I really can't live without him. Your return ticket is already booked. Hurry to the airport."

The more nervous she got, the more satisfied I felt. I replied, "What's the rush? I heard there are a lot of media and venture capital bigwigs here today. I might as well tell them all about your touching love story."

Isla's face immediately turned cold, a flash of malice in her eyes. She pulled out her phone, opened a video, and shoved it in my face. "Maren, your grandfather abandoned his wife and child back then. Your grandmother hates mistresses more than anything. If your grandma saw you being publicly called a mistress, would it literally kill her?"