They Gave My Wedding To My Sister Chapter 03
The ballroom doors opened again.
My mother rushed to Pearl’s side, gently wiping her tears.
When she turned to me, her voice was sharp with reproach.
“Pearl sacrificed seven years for you.”
“She only wanted her own wedding back. Why did you have to come charging in here and make a scene?”
My voice shook.
“Mom—so the heart condition was never real? It was fake every single time?”
“Three years ago, Ethan and I had an appointment at the City Clerk’s office to get married.”
“You suddenly said your chest hurt. Made me take you to the ER.”
“Was that to get me out of the way too?”
Pearl laughed softly.
“So you finally figured it out.”
She reached beneath her bouquet and pulled out a folded marriage certificate.
Tucked behind it was a photograph of her leaning against Ethan after the ceremony, both of them beaming.
The certificate bore the exact date I’d spent in that hospital waiting room three years ago.
My father and Marcus had stood as witnesses.
Sophie had taken the photograph.
A private officiant had pronounced Ethan and Pearl husband and wife while everyone I loved stood around them and celebrated.
Meanwhile, I had been sitting alone beside my mother’s fake hospital bed, sending Ethan dozens of frantic messages.
I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it today. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.
Once Mom is better, we’ll pick a new date. I promise I’ll make it up to you.
He’d taken hours to reply. When he finally did, it was just one line:
“Don’t worry. We have all the time in the world.”
Pearl waved the certificate, her smile widening.
“That text? I sent it for him.”
“Because at that moment, both of Ethan’s hands were on me. He couldn’t be bothered to check your messages.”
I stood in the center of that ballroom, surrounded by a hundred guests, numb all the way to the bone.
I bit down on my lip until I tasted iron, then turned and ran.
If I looked at their wedding for one more second, my heart would simply stop.
Standing outside those doors, listening to the wedding march swell behind me, I typed two words to the project team with trembling hands:
I accept.
The reply came almost instantly.
[Ms. Whitfield, your Copenhagen assignment is confirmed. Your ticket has been issued.]
Seventy-two hours. That was all that remained between me and the rest of my life.
The original plan had been a honeymoon flight right after the reception. My passport and suitcase were still in the bridal suite.
I retrieved my passport, shoved it into my bag, and was about to leave when the door swung open.
“Clara!”