His Female Bestie Said Congrats, I Said Divorce

Ryan Parker frowned.

“That night was a special case. Vanessa said someone was following her on the street, and she was scared walking alone. That’s why I went to check on her!”

“You told me she was ‘one of the guys,’ didn’t you? Since when are men afraid of being followed at night?”

My roar made Ryan’s face turn ugly.

“And what about your birthday, when I couldn’t make it back from out of town? You and her were all over each other in a private club lounge—was I dead to you then?”

Ryan froze, then quickly denied it.

“Who’s spreading lies? That never happened!”

I didn’t bother arguing. Instead, I threw my phone at him, playing the video right in his face.

“Take a good look yourself. Vanessa posted it on Instagram! Don’t tell me you had no idea!”

Ryan was speechless. He raked his hands through his hair in frustration, then his face twisted with anger.

“Enough! Why are you being so relentless, like a crazy woman? If only you were half as understanding as Vanessa, we wouldn’t even be fighting right now!”

His voice hardened.

“Emily Summers, I’m telling you right now—you must apologize to Vanessa. If you don’t, I won’t marry you. Tomorrow there won’t be a groom at the wedding. Let’s see how your Summers family handles that humiliation!”

Right then, his phone rang. Ryan instantly switched to a syrupy tone.

“Where are you? Don’t be scared, I’m coming right now.”

On the screen, the caller ID read Alex Johnson.

Ryan didn’t say another word before storming out, slamming the door behind him.

Not long after, one of his underlings sent me a video.

In it, Vanessa was sitting at a bar drinking miserably. Ryan came over to comfort her. Within moments, they were kissing passionately.

Then Vanessa sent me several photos of them making out, followed by a fake-sweet message:

“Oops, wrong person! Sis, you don’t mind, do you?”

I rolled my eyes and blocked her.

I began packing Ryan’s belongings, ready to throw everything out. On his nightstand was a locked box. I pried it open and found handwritten letters between him and Vanessa.

In his words: “If Emily Summers weren’t so rich, I couldn’t stand her another second.”

Vanessa had written: “Ryan, if I crash the wedding, will you come with me?”

His reply: “Of course I want to be with you! But I haven’t gotten the Summers money yet. Vanessa, just wait a little longer…”

That’s when I finally understood—Ryan had only stayed with me for my money.

If that was the case, then he wouldn’t see a single cent.

My parents called to ask about the rehearsal.

I told them everything was fine—except for one change.

“The groom needs to be swapped. I’ll marry the one who’s been calling me ‘big sis’ since childhood.”

Ryan had his so-called “big bro.” I had my own loyal little brother.

The next morning, as I sat at the hotel getting my bridal makeup done, Ryan placed both hands firmly on my shoulders.

“Emily, looks like you’ve finally come around. Vanessa is being generous—she’s letting us marry today as long as you apologize tomorrow.”

“Oh, and didn’t you buy that Chanel limited-edition handbag last month? You can give that to her as your apology gift.”

I shot him a cold glance.

A few weeks ago, Vanessa had publicly begged for that exact bag on Instagram. Not only was it expensive, but you had to be a registered VIC customer to even get one.

And Ryan thought a couple of casual words would be enough to snatch mine? What a dreamer.

I ignored him and let the makeup artist continue.

Yesterday, I’d made a call to my new groom. He’d agreed without hesitation.

But truthfully, we hadn’t seen each other in years. I had no idea what he was like now.