Chapter 2

Emma Hardy POV:

My fingers flew across the screen, a desperate blur of motion. I typed a single, raw message to Bryce. You will regret this. More than anything. Then I hit send, my thumb pressing down with a force that threatened to crack the screen. My entire body vibrated with a cold, violent tremor. It wasn' t just anger. It was something far deeper, a seismic shift within my very core.

Aisha, still beaming from ear to ear, finally noticed the wild trembling of my hands. Her triumphant grin faltered, replaced by a sneer. "What's wrong, Emma? Are you finally realizing you've lost? Pathetic."

She tossed a crumpled piece of paper at my feet. It was a flyer for Galilea's wedding, a picture of a beaming Bryce and Galilea plastered on it. "Here," she scoffed. "A little souvenir of what a real wedding looks like. Not like your pathetic little secret 'marriage' that nobody even knew about."

"Oh, wait," Aisha continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You didn't even have a wedding, did you? Just a quiet little courthouse deal, if that. Did Bryce even bother to make you a wife? Or were you just some convenient arm candy he kept hidden away?"

She crossed her arms, a smug expression on her face, clearly expecting me to burst into tears or lash out. But my gaze was fixed. Not on her, not on the crumpled flyer. It was on them.

My eyes, burning with unshed tears, scanned the scene. Bryce, my husband, was there. And Galilea. In a wedding dress. It was real. This was actually happening. My mind struggled to catch up with the brutal reality unfolding before me.

He was making a grand gesture, something he' d never done for me. He was twirling Galilea around, a wide, dazzling smile on his face. He held her close, whispering something in her ear, and she giggled, pressing her head into his shoulder. A tender, intimate moment that felt like a knife twisting in my gut.

"I love you, Galilea," he said, his voice carrying clearly on the slight breeze. "My beautiful bride."

My vision blurred again. He loved her? The words hit me harder than any physical blow. He had never said that to me, not in public, not like this. Not with such raw, unadulterated joy. A joy he had never shown me.

"Bryce!" I screamed, my voice raw, a choked cry that tore from my throat.

But my desperate shout was swallowed by the celebratory cheers of the wedding guests, by the continued roar of the helicopter blades. I was invisible. My pain, nonexistent.

I wiped the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand, a cold resolve hardening my features. I needed to move. I needed to act.

Aisha's hand shot out, grabbing my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "Where do you think you're going?" she hissed. "Don't you dare try to ruin my sister's big day, you jealous hag!"

"Let go of me!" I snarled, trying to pull away.

"Oh, so now you want to cause a scene?" she mocked, tightening her grip. "You want to pretend you actually know Bryce? Everyone here knows Galilea is the one marrying him. You're just some crazy stalker trying to crash her wedding!"

She started dragging me back, her nails digging into my skin. "Help! Someone! This crazy woman is trying to attack me! She's jealous of Galilea!"

My rage flared. With a surge of adrenaline, I ripped my arm free, shoving her with all my might. Aisha stumbled backward, shrieking as she landed hard on the ground.

"You bitch!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet, her face contorted in fury. "How dare you! I'll call security! You'll regret this!"

She turned to Bryce, who was now looking our way, a confused frown on his face. "Bryce! Honey! This crazy woman attacked me! She's trying to ruin our wedding!"

All eyes were on us. The festive chatter died down. Guests murmured, pointing, their faces a mixture of shock and curiosity.

Bryce' s eyes met mine across the small distance. For a fleeting second, I saw it-a flash of pure, unadulterated terror in his eyes. A recognition he couldn't hide.

"Bryce," I choked out, my voice trembling, "What is the meaning of this? Tell me. Please."

Aisha, still rubbing her elbow, looked from my tear-streaked face to Bryce's startled one. "Wait, you two... you know each other?" she asked, a hint of genuine confusion in her voice.

She turned back to Bryce, her tone suddenly demanding. "Bryce, darling, do you know this woman? She's clearly deranged."

My heart pounded, a desperate drum against my ribs. I looked at Bryce, pleading. Please, just tell them. Tell them I'm your wife. Tell them this is a mistake. Give me something.

His gaze, cold and unfeeling, swept over me. He straightened his shoulders, his jaw tightening. "I don't know this woman," he declared, his voice clear and resonant, amplified by the sudden silence of the crowd. "She must be mistaken."

The words hit me like a physical blow, stripping away every last shred of hope. Three years. Three years of our secret marriage. Three years of building his empire with my hidden funds. Three years of loving him, waiting for him, believing in him. And now, he publicly denied me. He erased me.

He had ignored my calls while my mother lay dying. He had chosen this, this elaborate charade, over her last wish. And he had the audacity to share my deepest, most traumatic secret – the assault – with Galilea, the woman he was marrying, as mere "gossip." It was a betrayal so profound, so utterly soul-crushing, that it defied comprehension.

A bitter, hysterical laugh bubbled up from my throat, choked off by a sob. It was all a lie. Our entire life together. A joke. My mother was dying, and he had done this.

My hand flew to my phone again, my fingers shaking with a new, terrifying resolve. This wasn't just about truth anymore. This was about vengeance.

Jonathan, I typed, my vision swimming. Burn it all down. Every last piece. Leave nothing standing. I want him ruined. Everything.