After My Groom Proposed to His Mistress at Our Wedding

I couldn't move. My legs felt rooted to the courthouse floor as I stared at the scattered contents of my purse—my 999th love letter and the pregnancy test that had filled me with such hope just hours ago. The courthouse clock ticked loudly in the silence, each second hammering home the reality of what I'd just witnessed.

My phone rang, cutting through my stupor. Chloe's name flashed on the cracked screen.

"Madison? Are you there? Did he show?" Her voice was tinged with the concern she'd carried for years—concern I'd always brushed aside.

"He's..." My voice cracked. "He proposed to Amanda. At the speedway. On live television."

The silence on the other end lasted only a moment before Chloe erupted. "That manipulative bastard! I'm coming to get you—"

"No," I said, surprising myself with the steadiness in my voice. "I need to see him. I need to hear him say it to my face."

"Madison, don't—"

"I'm carrying his child, Chloe." The words hung between us, heavy and irrevocable.

Chloe's sharp intake of breath was followed by a string of curses. "Go to the mansion then. Make him face you. But I'm coming too—"

"I need to do this alone," I whispered, tears finally spilling over. "I've spent eight years loving him alone. I need to face this alone too."

I hung up before she could argue further, gathered my scattered belongings with trembling hands, and walked out of the courthouse—away from the future I'd been promised, toward the truth I'd been denying.

---

The drive to Chase's mansion blurred through my tears. I'd made this journey countless times, always with butterflies of anticipation. Now my stomach churned with dread and rage.

I punched in the gate code—my birthday, a detail that once seemed so romantic but now felt like another cruel joke. The gates swung open, revealing the sweeping driveway lined with perfectly manicured trees I'd helped select when Chase bought this place with the money from my parents' music shop.

A sleek BMW I didn't recognize sat in the circular drive. Amanda's, no doubt. The sight of it parked so confidently beside Chase's collection of sports cars made bile rise in my throat.

I didn't bother knocking. After eight years, I still had a key—though I wondered now if that would change by tomorrow.

Chase stood in the grand foyer, still wearing the same clothes from the speedway announcement. He didn't look surprised to see me. He looked... annoyed.

"Madison." My name on his lips sounded different now—not the tender caress I was used to, but a dismissal. "I was going to call you."

"Call me?" I echoed, my voice hollow. "After eight years, I deserved more than a call, Chase."

He ran a hand through his golden hair—the tell he had whenever he lied. "Look, we had fun, but—"

"Fun?" The word sliced through me like a blade. "I sold my family home for you. I wrote you 999 love letters. I waited for you while you traveled the circuit. That wasn't fun, Chase. That was love."

His eyes hardened, and I saw something I'd never noticed before—a coldness that had probably always been there, hidden beneath charm and empty promises.

"You chose to do those things," he said flatly. "I never forced you."

The sound of heels clicking on marble interrupted us. Amanda appeared at the top of the grand staircase, descending with practiced grace. She wore a soft pink dress that highlighted her perfect figure, her diamond ring catching the light with every movement.

"Madison, darling," she cooed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "This must be so difficult for you."

She reached Chase's side and slipped her arm through his. The gesture was subtle but unmistakable—marking her territory.

"Why?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Why the letters? Why the promises?"

Chase shrugged, the casual gesture more devastating than any shouted insult could have been. "You were convenient."

Something snapped inside me. I reached into my purse and pulled out the pregnancy test, holding it up like evidence at a trial.

"Is this convenient too?"

Chase's expression transformed from dismissive to panicked in an instant. The color drained from his face as he stared at the two pink lines.

"She's lying," Amanda hissed, her mask of sympathy evaporating. "It's obviously a desperate ploy for attention."

Chase said nothing, his silence more damning than any denial could have been.

I turned and walked toward the door, my back straight despite the weight crushing my chest. Behind me, I heard Amanda's venomous whispers and Chase's stammered responses.

As I stepped outside, the enormity of what lay ahead crashed over me—I was pregnant, alone, and the father of my child had just revealed himself to be a stranger.