When my sister stole my fiancé, betrayal wasn’t enough for her. She wanted to flaunt her little victory. A year later, an invitation arrived. Erica was getting married to the man she had taken from me, and she wanted me to watch. But what she didn’t know was that I had a plan. And before the night was over, her perfect wedding would be in ruins.
I wasn’t supposed to be here.
That much was clear from the sideways glances, the hushed whispers, and the sharp looks that followed me as I walked through the grand hall.
The wedding set-up looked like it came out of a magazine. Tall golden candelabras lined the tables, ivory roses spilled out of crystal vases, and the entire hall shimmered under chandeliers that sparkled like starlight. The guests were dressed to impress—women in flowing gowns, men in pressed tuxedos. Everything screamed elegance.
But no matter how much gold and ivory covered the place, it couldn’t hide the rot beneath it all.
This wasn’t just any wedding. This was her wedding.
Erica.
My younger sister. My parents’ golden child. The one who got everything without lifting a finger, while I worked for every scrap of success in my life. And now, she had taken the one thing that mattered most to me—my fiancé.
Stan.
I still remember the night it all fell apart. I came home early from work, exhausted, ready to collapse into bed… only to walk into my own bedroom and see Stan and Erica tangled together in the sheets.
Stan froze, his face twisted with guilt, lips stumbling for excuses. But Erica? She didn’t even look ashamed. She looked proud.
She smirked at me and said one word that burned into my memory forever.
“I won, Paige. Checkmate.”
The wedding I had planned for a year was canceled. I lost thousands in deposits, vendors refusing to give anything back. Meanwhile, Erica and Stan no longer had to sneak around. They could hold hands in public, laugh in restaurants, post couple selfies without hiding.
I disappeared for weeks after that. Lived in hotels, worked remotely, tried to breathe without drowning in humiliation. Eventually, I came back. I moved into my apartment again, bought myself a kitten, and told myself I was healing.
Then, the invitation arrived.
A gold-trimmed envelope addressed to Paige Thompson. Inside:
You are cordially invited to the wedding of Erica Thompson and Stanley Brooks.
My hands shook so hard I almost ripped it in two. Of course, it wasn’t out of kindness. If I knew my sister at all, she either sent it to mock me—or my parents forced her to invite me.
But what Erica didn’t know was that I wasn’t going to her wedding to cry.
I was going to ruin it.
The ceremony passed in a blur. I sat near the back, my expression unreadable, while the officiant droned on about love and devotion. Stan, dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, gazed down at Erica like she was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. Erica glowed, soaking in every ounce of attention like a queen accepting her crown.
I almost laughed. Enjoy it while it lasts, sweetheart.
By the time the reception began, the hall buzzed with joy. Guests clinked glasses, laughter filled the air, and servers floated through with champagne. A giant screen played their engagement photos—Stan lifting Erica in his arms, Erica kissing his cheek, their smiles wide and sickeningly happy.
To anyone else, they looked perfect. But I knew better.
I wasn’t here to let her live out her fairy tale.
Moving through the crowd, I looked the part in my sleek black dress. I wasn’t dressed like a guest—I was dressed like reckoning itself. I walked straight to the laptop connected to the projector. My heart hammered, but my hands didn’t shake. I slipped in the flash drive, clicked a few times, and took a deep breath.
Showtime.
At first, no one noticed. The guests were too busy laughing, eating, drinking. Erica and Stan were still making their rounds, soaking in compliments.
Then, Stan’s voice filled the hall.
“Please, don’t leave me!”
The chatter died instantly. Heads turned toward the giant screen.
There, grainy footage played from the security camera I had installed in my bedroom. Stan sat on my bed, tears streaming down his face. I stood in the corner, listening as he begged.
“Erica means nothing to me, Paige! Absolutely nothing! She was a mistake! I love you, Paige! I made a huge mistake!”
Gasps filled the room. Someone’s glass slipped from their hand and shattered against the floor.
I turned toward Erica.
Her face was pale, her smile gone. Stan froze where he stood, his jaw slack, his body stiff.
But I wasn’t done.
The footage shifted. More clips played—timestamps flashing on the corner of the screen. Erica and Stan sneaking into my house. Slipping into my bedroom. Again and again. Betrayal after betrayal.
And then the final clip.
Erica in my bed, laughing.
“She’ll never know,” she whispered.
“Paige who?” Stan laughed with her.
The room erupted with gasps.
“Oh my God,” someone muttered.
My mother’s face drained of color, her hands trembling. My father clenched his jaw so tightly I thought his teeth would shatter.
Chaos broke out.
Erica stumbled back. “This… this isn’t real! This is fake!” she shouted desperately.
But Stan turned to her, his face dark with fury. “Erica, you told me you deleted the footage from Paige’s computer.”
“Oh?” I tilted my head, my voice calm, cutting. “So you knew the cameras caught you? You both knew.”
The crowd buzzed louder. Whispers turned into judgmental stares.
Then, from the back, a voice cut through the noise.
“Paige.”
I turned.
Jack.
He walked forward, dressed in a waiter’s vest, a tray of champagne glasses abandoned on a table. My heart skipped.
Weeks ago, when I told him about my plan, he insisted on coming.
“I don’t want you doing this alone,” he had said in my kitchen, chopping vegetables while I sulked over Erica’s invitation.
“I don’t want you dragged into this,” I argued. “If she sees you, she’ll ruin everything.”
“Then I’ll come as a waiter,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll be close by, and if you need me, I’ll be there.”
Now, here he was.
He walked straight toward me, eyes steady, blue and unwavering. Gasps followed him as he moved. Then, right there in front of everyone, Jack dropped to one knee.
The room fell silent again.
He pulled a velvet box from his pocket, flipped it open, and revealed the most beautiful ring I had ever seen.
“I’ve waited long enough, my love,” he said, his voice strong. “Paige, will you marry me?”
A sharp inhale swept through the crowd.
Erica shrieked. “Are you kidding me?! At my wedding?!”
I looked at her—furious, red-faced, stomping like a child—and smiled.
She had stolen Stan. But Jack? Jack was a thousand times the man Stan would ever be.
I turned back to Jack, tears in my eyes. “Yes,” I whispered, then louder, stronger: “Yes, Jack! I will!”
The crowd erupted—some gasping, others cheering, some clapping. My mother wiped away tears. My father sat stiff, stunned.
Erica’s face twisted in rage. “This is MY day!” she screamed, stamping her foot like a child.
I tilted my head, my voice sweet as sugar. “Oh, honey. You stole my wedding once. I just stole the show.”
And with Jack’s hand in mine, I walked out, leaving her in ruins.
Later, Jack and I sat in a tiny diner, absurdly overdressed for greasy fries and milkshakes. My black dress clashed with the cracked booth, but I felt more at home than I had all night.
Jack slid fries toward me. “Eat. You’ve had a long day.”
“That’s an understatement,” I laughed, picking one up.
We sat in easy silence for a while. Then I asked, “How long have you been planning that proposal?”
He smirked. “For months. But I knew you weren’t ready. I wasn’t going to rush you. But when she invited you? That was it. I wasn’t letting you face her alone.”
“And the waiter act?” I teased.
He grinned. “Called in a favor. Turns out I look pretty good holding a tray.”
I laughed—really laughed. For the first time in a long time.
Jack leaned closer, his eyes soft. “I meant every word, Paige. I love you. And I’ll wait as long as you need. But tonight felt like the right moment.”
I reached for his hand, my chest warm. “You chose the perfect moment.”
For the first time since Erica stole everything from me, I felt like I had finally won.