Ten years into my service in a top-secret unit, someone in my high school group chat suddenly began tagging me nonstop.
“Elena Harper, what’s that supposed to mean? Bianca’s wedding isn’t important enough for you? You’re not even coming?”
I scrolled through the messages and saw the news: Bianca Rowe, the most beautiful girl in our class, was getting married today.
Almost everyone else from our class was already there.
“Sorry, my company doesn’t grant leave.”
I answered seriously, only to be bombarded with ridicule.
“What kind of garbage company doesn’t even allow vacations?”
“No need to guess—it must be some shady little outfit. Embarrassed to show up, right?”
Bianca tagged me directly: “Remember when I bet I’d surpass you one day?”
I replied truthfully: “I don’t remember.”
That instantly fueled more chatter:
“Bianca married the richest man in Brighton City. She’s now the richest man’s wife!”
“What’s wrong? Too poor to handle the comparison, so you’re pretending not to recall?”
“Can’t even afford a wedding gift? Maybe we should start a fundraiser for you.”
While the insults piled up, Bianca tagged me again, pretending to smooth things over:
“I really hope you can come witness my happiest moment!”
“Since we’re classmates, I’ll even arrange a babysitting job for you.”
She then posted a wedding photo of herself with her groom.
When I saw his face, I froze. Wasn’t that my husband—Adrian Holt, the man who begged me to marry him three years ago?
“Alright,” I typed calmly. “I’ll definitely come to witness your happy moment.”
——
The moment I hit send, I received a private message from Adrian Holt:
“Honey, don’t work too hard. Remember to come home to me after you leave.”
“I miss you.”
Because of my work, I seldom interacted with outsiders. Even after we married, I rarely saw him. Yet he often messaged me, full of longing. I always believed he loved me deeply.
Now, that belief seemed laughable.
I asked my superior for leave and, using the special car he approved, drove to Bianca’s hometown—the wedding venue she had posted.
From afar, I saw a massive red banner draped across her family’s gate:
“Warmly welcome, Mr. Adrian Holt, President of Summit Crown Corporation, to pick up the bride!”
Beneath it, Bianca, dressed in a snow-white couture gown, stood glowing with anticipation. Around her clustered our former classmates.
“Bianca, you really hid this well! None of us knew your husband was the richest man until now.”
“Exactly! I heard Mr. Holt isn’t just wealthy but also powerful. No one dares cross him. You’re amazing to have married such a man.”
“Bianca, you’ll soon be the richest man’s wife. Don’t forget us classmates!”
Even our old homeroom teacher flattered her:
“Bianca, I knew from the start you had a bright future.”
“That’s why even though your grades weren’t stellar, I never criticized you. You were clearly destined for greatness. You don’t need grades when you’re born for success.”
Bianca basked in their praise, lips curled, eyes brimming with pride.
But the truth was different. Adrian’s abilities alone would never have made him the richest man. Without his marriage alliance with me—one that kept his rivals wary—he would have been devoured long ago.
