“That’s right, Lana,” Emily chimed in, pretending to be all sweet and innocent. “It’s just a big misunderstanding. Glen and I were only in the room for, like, two minutes before you showed up. Nothing happened. It’s not what it looks like, really.”
She reached for my arm, trying to act all friendly and close. But there was no real warmth in her eyes—only fear. The fear of losing access to all that money, to everything she thought she’d gotten her claws into.
I shifted away, barely moving to avoid her touch.
And just like that, she gasped, stumbled back dramatically—and crashed to the ground like I’d just shoved her across the room. The sharp scrape of her elbow against the floor echoed louder than it should have. Blood instantly welled up from a long gash on her arm. It looked gruesome.
Before I could even register what had just happened—
SLAP!
Glen’s hand struck my face so hard my ears rang.
“Lana Snow, what the hell is wrong with you?!” he roared. “Who do you think you are, laying your hands on Emily like that? She was trying to help you and you attack her? How could a person be so vicious?”
The sting of the slap spread from my cheek like fire. I stood there, stunned. No one—not in this life or the last—had ever dared to hit me.
I stared in pain and disbelief as he rushed over to cradle Emily in his arms, fussing over her like some fragile flower.
She lay limp in his embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Lana,” she whimpered between sobs, “I just wanted to clear things up. I swear I just wanted to explain. But how could you? Just because you’re the daughter of the richest man in the city, doesn’t mean you can treat people like dirt. I know I’m not from some big, fancy family like you, but that doesn’t give you right to treat me like rat.”
She wept harder, as if the heartbreak was too much to bear.
By now, guests had started to gather, searching for the bride and groom after the wedding was delayed. As they saw the scene unfold, murmurs began to rise among them.
“I heard the Snows’ heiress is spoiled and arrogant,” someone murmured. “Typical rich-girl behavior—entitled and heartless.”
“Yeah, she’s a walking disaster. Can you imagine marrying someone like that? Poor Glen. He’s way too good for her.”
“She’s cursed, I swear. Women like her only bring misfortune.”
“She’s probably been cheating on him since day one. Just look at her—you can tell. Poor guy probably got dragged into this marriage and now he’s stuck cleaning up her mess.”
“Exactly. She’s got the attitude, the money, probably the affairs too. Glen must’ve been forced into this whole thing. Poor man…”
Seeing the crowd grow, Glen switched gears. He dropped the anger, replacing it with a look of wounded devotion as he turned to me.
“Lana, if you’re angry, take it out on me. Hit me, yell at me, whatever you want. Hell, stab me if it makes you feel better. Because I love you. I’ll always loved you.”
“But don’t you hurt Emily. She’s just innocent, harmless, delicate woman. How could you raise your hand against her? And to make it worst, you had to do it today. This was supposed to be our wedding day… and you chose this moment to lash out at her? You really went too far. Don’t you ever worry that this is going to come back around one day?”
“He’s right!” a few people from the crowd echoed. “She’s just a poor girl, Lana. While you've got everything—why did you pick on her?!”
The judgment rolled over me in waves—accusations from people who didn’t know a damn thing about the truth. They saw a wounded bride, a sobbing other woman and a man standing tall, claiming to love too much.
They didn’t see what I saw: A stage. A script. And Glen Rivera, center spotlight, playing the role of heartbroken hero.
Something inside me cracked.
I gritted my teeth, my hands clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms.
“That’s rich, coming from you, Glen,” I snapped, my voice low and venomous. “You and Emily were literally screwing each other minutes ago in that room—and now you’re standing here playing the heartbroken groom while painting me as the villain?”
But Glen didn’t even flinch. Instead, he let out a theatrical sigh, feigning heartbreak like he was playing to a stage.
