Chapter 3
The Bvlgari Hotel stood as the crown jewel of luxury within the capital’s collection of five star establishments.
Here, even the simplest room commanded a rate of sixteen hundred dollars per night.
That was a splurge, no doubt about it, for someone like me.
Back in the day, I would spend fifty dollars for a motel near the train station before I’d indulge in this place’s idea of heavenly hospitality.
But now, why should I keep pinching pennies?
Ten years of toil only to be met with heartbreak. I owed it to myself to live a little.
I murmured, “Sixteen hundred dollars? Fine by me. I’ve got it covered.”
I chose to stay at this hotel for a reason. Ricky and Julia’s wedding was happening here, after all.
I knew well about Ricky’s family; even setting foot in a place like this would be stretching their budget. There was no way they could afford a wedding here.
This had to be Julia’s family, a rich family pulling out all the stops for their daughter’s big day. How generous of them.
I booked myself a room for two days. Throughout the day, I roamed through the hotel, exploring the restaurant, the banquet hall, and the gym, and even took a stroll on the golf course.
I checked out every facility the hotel had to offer, but I went back to the banquet hall time and again until I knew its every detail like the back of my hand.
At night, I retreated to my room like a spy in hiding, going over my plan again and again, tweaking the details, making sure there were no loose ends.
July 7th came faster than I expected. I woke up early, dressed in an outfit that was both elegant and understated. I checked out of the hotel and found a spot across the street to settle in. My eyes never left the hotel’s front square.
At nine in the morning, 32 massive hot air balloons rose into the sky, casting long shadows over the city.
Banners were suspended from there, each one brimming with good wishes and congratulations, hanging 150 feet below.
Hotel staff started scurrying around, setting up flowers, constructing arches, and adorning the square with decorations.
An hour and a half later, everything was perfectly set up.
A colossal arch of red and white roses soared in the middle of the square, reaching 65 feet into the sky.
I guessed that well over a hundred thousand roses made up its grandeur.
Putting up such banners seemed a bit tacky, but I guess the Colbert family was aiming to show off their prestige.
The gilded letters spelling out phrases like “Happy Marriage” seemed to glitter, but not in a way that brought joy. Their shimmer felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Tears fell from my eyes.
The artificial lawn was hidden beneath a red carpet that stretched for miles, winding from the banquet hall all the way to the roadside.
Over a hundred attendants, dressed in crisp red uniforms with immaculate makeup, stood in perfect lines at the entrance of the square, guiding the arriving guests with practiced smiles.
Sixty–six members of a jazz band flanked the carpet, each musician shimmering as if they’d been bathed in molten gold. More than a hundred adorable children, clutching bouquets of flowers, stood eagerly by, their eyes wide with excitement.
Musicians played, singers crooned, and dancers moved gracefully, all performing their roles with military precision.
The atmosphere was electric, buzzing with an energy that made my chest tighten.
I used to watch weddings like this on TV and feel nothing but mild amusement. It always seemed like something from another world that had nothing to do with me.
But now, standing across the street, even from a distance, I felt the shock of luxury.
The world of the wealthy wasn’t just different. It was a universe away from people like me.
And it wasn’t just me who felt it. Even passing cars slowed down, their drivers craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the grandeur. Some were so captivated that they caused traffic jams, their passengers wondering which important family was holding the wedding ceremony today.
By 11:10 a.m., most of the guests had arrived.
But they didn’t rush into the banquet hall. They lingered outside.
The road in front of the hotel was completely blocked, choked by the growing congestion.
I caught myself thinking, “With this gridlock going nowhere fast, how was the wedding car supposed to make its grand entrance? Surely, they wouldn’t make the bride and groom hoof it from blocks away, right?”
But it wasn’t long before I saw my concerns were somewhat overblown.
The wail of sirens cut through the air as traffic police arrived, shouting orders and directing the reluctant cars away.
They rode motorcycles, one hand on the handlebars, the other gripping a megaphone. They didn’t ask nicely.
In less than ten minutes, the road was cleared out; vehicles and pedestrians vanished as if by magic.
At exactly 11:30 a.m., the convoy of 23 black vehicles flowed like a shadow along the deserted road. This dark cavalcade included both the vanguard and the rear guard, each equipped with cameras that captured every angle of this grand procession.
I might not have known how to drive, but my work in fashion had taught me a thing or two about cars. These weren’t just any cars. At the forefront, an elongated Rolls Royce Phantom glided with an almost regal grace, cradling the bride and groom in its plush embrace. Following in its wake were nineteen more Rolls Royces, all Phantoms. Just one of these cars cost more than I could hope to earn in a lifetime.
The lead car stopped at the edge of the red carpet. In an instant, an attendant, with movements as smooth as silk,
approached and opened the door with a theatrical sweep. Ricky stepped out first, dressed in a black suit. And beside him, holding his hand, Julia emerged in her white wedding gown. They stepped onto the red carpet.
He had never looked more handsome in all the years I’d known him. And Julia, the bride, was breathtaking, more beautiful than any photo I’d seen.
Flower children followed behind them, scattering petals in their wake.
Just then, a thunderous roar shattered the serene moment.
I looked up to see two helicopters hovering overhead.
Before I could process what was happening, they began to shower the couple with a cascade of flower petals. It was like the
sky itself was crying tears of joy. An ocean of flowers blanketed the ground beneath their feet.
My perception of the affluent had always been rather simple: they possessed wealth.
Julia’s family wasn’t just wealthy. They were old money.
As the petals gently descended, the jazz band erupted into a lively tune, their music filling the air with vibrant energy.
The colossal sound resonated through me, making my whole being pulse with its intensity.
I was rooted to the spot as I stared at the couple. Their faces shone with joy.
For a moment, the world blurred through my tears.
Over the past decade, I spent four years immersed in the river of love, savoring the sweetness of romance.
For the other six, my greatest dream was to slip into a wedding dress as exquisite as Julia’s and walk hand in hand with Ricky
into our shared future.
My boyfriend got married, yet the woman at the altar beside him was not me.
I shook my head in mockery, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. With a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and
crossed the road, heading toward the hotel.
As I entered the sprawling banquet hall, an enormous space that stretched over thousands of square feet, I was hit with the overwhelming scent of fresh flowers.
Hundreds of tables were packed with guests.
On stage, a famous singer belted out a love song. The air buzzed with joy, celebration, and the clinking of glasses.
I slipped through the crowd like a shadow, following the route I had memorized during my reconnaissance of the hotel. No one
paid me any attention as I made my way backstage, blending in with the staff, pretending to be one of them.
Θ
Just on the other side of the wall, in the lounge, Ricky and Julia were waiting.
Any moment now, they would walk hand in hand into the wedding venue, ready to pledge their lives to each other in front of hundreds of guests.
Julia’s parents had truly spared no expense. Pop stars performed on stage, while comedians mingled with the crowd, their jokes sending waves of laughter through the room.
The wedding emcees, a man and a woman, were both famous television hosts. I had only ever seen them on TV before. On television, they always appeared so polished and professional. But here, in person, they were animated, exchanging auspicious and congratulatory words with practiced ease.
After a brief rest, the newlyweds made their entrance.
To the familiar strains of the Wedding March, Ricky led Julia by the hand, their steps graceful and perfectly in sync.
All eyes were on them, the picture of happiness and perfection.
Taking advantage of the distraction, I quickly swapped the USB drive on the computer. With the swap complete, I stepped out from backstage into the wedding venue, my eyes scanning the crowd, waiting for the drama to unfold.
fair.
My boyfriend got married today, but I wasn’t the bride.
I was no saint. How could I remain indifferent after everything?
From the age of 18 to 28, I gave Ricky the best decade of my life. And what did I get in return?
He never intended to marry me; he wanted to keep me as his secret lover.
I loved him for ten years and supported him through thick and thin for six. Was this how he repaid me?
He toyed with me, messing with my heart and my body. How could I just let it go?
Tricking me had to cost him something, right?
While I didn’t have the guts for murder, making Ricky pay some interest for the ten years of youth I wasted on him seemed only
The wedding venue was lively and filled with distinguished guests.
Considering the status of the Colbert family, I figured the majority of the attendees were probably big shots, each with their own claim to fame or power.
Some faces were familiar; they were Ricky’s friends.
Philip was among them. He hadn’t even waited for the wedding to start before he was deep in his cups. His face was a vivid shade of red. There he was, gesticulating wildly, engaged in lively conversation with his tablemates. His excitement was so palpable that you might mistake him for the groom.
The tables near the stage were reserved for the main guests.
I saw Ricky’s parents, whose smiles were wide and genuine.
They must be thrilled. After all, their son wasn’t marrying the girl from a fatherless family with “psychological issues“.
Ricky was marrying a rich heiress.
From this point forward, Henry and Samantha would ride on their son’s coattails, soaring into a life of luxury in a single bound. In fact, Ricky had indeed achieved half of his dream.
Not through a stellar career but through marriage, he had managed to leap social classes.
“The groom stands tall, handsome, and utterly charming, while the bride shines with a beauty reminiscent of the stars themselves. They are, without a doubt, a match crafted by the heavens. Now, let’s invite the groom to share his romantic story with the bride.”
Amidst applause, Ricky took the microphone as he looked at Julia gently. And then, he began his performance.
“First, thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend my wedding with Julia. Thank you! We met three years ago in a café. The moment I saw Julia, my heart was thrown into chaos. How could there be such a beautiful girl in this world? In that instant, I fell in love with her. Actually, I’m quite shy, and I had never been in love before. It was Julia who ignited my desire for love…
Ricky was in his element, spinning a yarn of romance and sweetness.
He claimed that he had never been in love. What was I then?
The audience frequently erupted into applause, showering the couple with good wishes. Especially his buddies, who were
really getting into it, egging him on with rowdy cheers.
“May your love be like the dawn, ever rising. May your days be filled with laughter. You’re not just lovers but the best of friends. A love like yours never bends or ends. May your love be like the stars, shining bright through every night.”
Under Philip’s lead, Ricky’s friends loudly chanted their blessings, their voices echoing through the grand hall.
No one questioned Ricky’s story, even though the truth was known to all.
“As the saying goes, seeing is believing. Now, let’s witness the journey of love between this couple with our own eyes!” the emcee announced, gesturing dramatically to the large screen behind him with his microphone.
The show was about to start, and even I clenched my fists in anticipation..
The screen flickered to life, displaying a slideshow of photos, one after another.
In each photo, a man and woman embraced, held hands, and kissed.
They appeared tender and close, exuding an air of sweet intimacy.
The man was indeed the groom, Ricky, but the woman wasn’t the bride, Julia.
It was me, Emma, unknown to everyone else.
“Ricky, did you like the wedding gift I prepared for you?” I whispered from the dark corner where the light didn’t reach.
As the photos continued, the applause from the audience dwindled from enthusiastic to scattered and then to a heavy silence.
Every face was painted with surprise and confusion.
Samantha was the first to react, jumping to her feet and frantically signaling to Ricky.
Ricky turned around and saw the screen, and his face drained of color.
He probably never dreamed that at his wedding with Julia, photos of me would appear.
“Who did this? Who’s responsible? Turn it off. Turn it off now!” Ricky nearly lost control, roaring in panic.
As the person involved, he knew exactly what this meant.
Even if the wedding could proceed, his standing in the Colbert family would plummet.
“It’s been a while, Ricky. How could you not invite me to such a big event like your wedding?” I stepped out from the shadows, walked straight onto the stage, and took the microphone from the emcee, addressing Ricky.
It hadn’t been that long, just two days.
The guests were startled, their eyes darting between me and the screen, suddenly piecing together the situation.
Their expressions shifted to those of people settling in for a dramatic spectacle.
“You? How are you here?” Ricky stammered, so caught off guard that he forgot to put down the microphone.
“We’ve been together for ten years and lived together for six. As your rightful girlfriend, how could I not come to your wedding? Oh, and the gift I gave you, do you like it?” I pointed at the screen, still showing the photos, and smiled sweetly.
“You… I…” Ricky was at a loss for words, stuttering.
Even with all his ambition and talent, he was unprepared for this.
“Happy wedding, honey!”
I waved at Ricky with a smile and lowered my voice. “Sorry for ruining your wedding, honey.”
The guests whispered among themselves.
With the photos, my presence, and my brief words, they had pieced together the situation. Their view of Ricky had to be reconsidered.
“You b**ch, how dare you show up here? You want to ruin my son’s wedding, don’t you? Guards, get her out of here!”
Samantha, furious, struggled onto the stage. Her clumsy movements made her look like a sow climbing over a fence as she lunged at me.
“Mrs. Blake, we meet again!” I greeted her with a smile.
“How shameless you are! I’ll beat you to death!” She glared at me and raised her hand to strike me.
But I wasn’t about to let her.
“Mrs. Blake, at your age, don’t be so impulsive. What if you hurt your back?”
I caught her wrist, sneering.
She was old and weak; no matter how she struggled, she couldn’t break free from my grasp.
