He Faked Amnesia to Swap Me for His Step-Sister at the Altar

It's just that now, the person standing on stage beside him is no longer her.

Whispers drifted from behind.

"The bride is gorgeous. That dress must've cost a fortune."

"The groom ordered it from Milan! And did you see her ring? He flew to South Africa and picked out the diamond himself."

Murmurs of amazement rippled through the crowd.

"But wasn't there supposed to be a different bride? Switched out at the last minute?"

The words bored into Clarissa's ears. Her nails dug deep into her palm, but she didn't feel a thing.

Ethan had always hated seeing her wronged. Whenever anyone whispered about her, he'd shut them down without a second thought.

But now—who was he holding? Who was he gazing at so tenderly?

Wait.

Her eyes locked onto Nina.

The pink diamond Ethan gave her—she'd kept it safe. So what was that ring on Nina's finger?

He must have heard the chatter below, because his gaze swept over—casual, deliberate.

"Don't spread rumors."

In front of everyone, he lifted Nina's hand.

"This is the only pink diamond I found."

"Anything else out there?" A pause. "Probably glass."

The hall erupted.

Clarissa thought she'd misheard.

The "Heart of True Love" she'd treasured like a priceless gem—glass?

The stage lights blazed too bright. Tears spilled before she even realized.

She rose to leave, but Nina blocked her path, wineglass in hand.

That harmless smile. "Clarissa, I thought you wouldn't come. Our wedding would've been incomplete without you."

Clarissa's laugh was cold. "You sent that invitation just to gloat, didn't you?"

"What's wrong—afraid your little family reunion doesn't have enough of an audience?"

Her voice wasn't loud, but the entire hall went silent.

Nina's grip on the wineglass tightened. She leaned closer, voice dropping. "He and I share a mother, Clarissa. You'll never compete with that."

"Besides," contempt flickered beneath Nina's smile, "you've only kept him around by guilt-tripping him over healing his hand."

"All these years you've had him trapped—don't tell me you actually thought he loved you."

"Oh, and one more thing." Her smile sharpened. "Your miscarriage wasn't an accident."

Something inside Clarissa snapped.

Her voice shook. "What did you say?"

Before she could even reach for Nina, Nina pitched backward.

She crashed into the champagne tower a server had just wheeled over—glass shattering, shards scattering across the floor.

"Nina!"

Ethan vaulted off the stage.

That face—always so composed—was now twisted with panic.

He looked up, eyes bloodshot, and glared at Clarissa.

"What the hell did you do?"

He helped Nina up gently. She was a mess—palm sliced open, blood welling through the cuts.

A single tear slid down Nina's cheek. "Clarissa, I only wanted your blessing. If you couldn't give it, fine—but why push me?"

Ethan closed the distance in one stride. His hand clamped around Clarissa's wrist, grinding the bone.

The same face she knew so well—but the expression was foreign. Terrifying.

His voice turned to ice. "Apologize."

Nina's words still echoed in her skull.

A few months ago, Clarissa had welcomed their first child with indescribable joy.

Then she'd lost it.