A Decade of Misplaced Devotion

The wedding had reached the part where the groom kissed the bride.

I closed my eyes and leaned in to kiss Stella Stafford, only to end up with a mouthful of fur.

Her assistant held up the camera and burst out laughing. "The almighty Mr. Rowe can't even tell if he's kissing a person or a dog?"

I stared at the Husky in front of me, its tongue lolling out, and felt my stomach churn.

I was about to lay into him when Stella stepped in to block me. "It was just a joke. No hard feelings."

Laurent Reilly smirked smugly, his tone dripping with arrogance. "And guess what? This Husky happens to be a female, so why don't you just marry her instead? You're not good enough for Stella anyway."

The employees erupted in laughter. Mortified, I kicked him square in the chest, sending him sprawling.

The next second, Stella smashed a wine bottle over my head and demanded an apology.

I wiped the mix of wine and blood from my face, then dialed an overseas number with a cold grin. "The wedding is short one bride. You in?"

...

That kick had packed my full force, and Laurent Reilly winced in pain.

The employees who'd been mocking me alongside him fell dead silent. Everyone stared at me in shock because they all knew he was Stella Stafford's golden boy.

Offending him was the same as offending her. And I was known as her top simp, always bending over backward for her.

Laurent clutched his chest, shooting me a venomous glare. "Can't take a joke, huh? You're way too sensitive. Stella, my chest hurts like hell. I think my ribs are broken."

The next moment, security guards clamped down on my arms from both sides. Stella, in her high heels, slammed her foot into my abdomen.

She'd trained in ballet for over a decade, so the force in her legs was no joke.

Pain exploded through my body, draining the color from my face as cold sweat beaded on my forehead. Uncaring, she glared at me like I was her enemy, not her husband-to-be.

"Have you lost your mind?" she spat. "Laurent was just trying to liven up our wedding. He meant well. So what if you got a mouthful of dog fur? Be thankful."

My back was already starting to itch, and I glared at her. "You know I'm allergic to dog fur!"

But she brushed it off like it was nothing. "Yeah, and? It's not gonna kill you. Quit being dramatic and apologize to him. Otherwise, forget about me going to City Hall with you."

Her words pricked my heart like needles, the pain so intense I could barely breathe. Turned out, in her mind, my health didn't even compare to one of Laurent's stupid grins.

He shot me a triumphant side-eye, but his face twisted into fake remorse. "Stella, it's fine. I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't mean to ruin your wedding. I thought Mr. Rowe could handle a little ribbing. I'm really sorry."

With that, he raised his hand to slap himself.

But right before it landed, Stella stopped him, her eyes full of concern. "What are you doing? It's not your fault! If anyone deserves a slap, it's not you."

She whipped around to me, her soft gaze turning icy. "Slap yourself right now. Consider it your apology to Laurent."

I gritted my teeth against the growing discomfort on my skin, my eyes burning red. "Have you forgotten how I nearly ended up in the ICU saving you from that rabid dog? And now, you're letting your assistant humiliate me with a dog. Doesn't that eat at your conscience?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed her eyes.

Laurent noticed the shift in her mood and amped up his whining. "My chest hurts so much. I can barely breathe! Stella, am I dying?"