Sweet Revenge: Inviting My Ex-Husband to My Wedding Ceremony

Adeline’s Pov

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of footsteps. Heavy, angry ones.

The door slammed open. Ethan stepped in, his expression cold, followed by two of his guards.

“Take her,” he said flatly.

My heart raced. “Ethan, what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. The guards grabbed me, dragging me out of the room. I struggled, crying out his name, but he only stared ahead.

They shoved me into the old storage room at the far end of the house. Dust filled the air. My knees hit the floor.

“This is punishment,” Ethan said, standing in the doorway. “For what you did to Clara last night.”

“I didn’t do anything!” I shouted. “She’s lying—”

“Enough!” His voice cut through me like glass. “You’ll stay here until you learn to control yourself.”

He threw something into the room. It was a bouquet of lilies. My throat tightened immediately. He knew I was allergic.

“Ethan, please,” I gasped. “Not this… you know I can’t—”

“You should’ve thought about that before hurting Clara.” His tone was cold. “Maybe this will teach you to behave.”

Then the door slammed shut.

I pounded on it until my hands hurt, tears blurring my vision. My chest burned as the air thinned. I could barely breathe.

I fell to the floor, clawing weakly at the door, my lungs screaming for air.

After what felt like forever, the door opened. I collapsed onto the hallway floor, coughing violently.

Ethan stood over me, his expression unreadable. “If you ever touch Clara again, Adeline,” he said slowly, “I swear, you’ll regret it.”

He turned and walked away.

I lay there for a long time, shaking. Then my phone buzzed beside me. I fumbled to answer.

“Sweetheart,” my mother’s voice came through, soft and worried. “Your father booked your flight. Two days from now. Come home, Adeline. Please.”

My lips trembled. “I’ll come,” I whispered. “I promise.”

When the call ended, I sat there staring at the wall. Something inside me broke completely.

I dragged myself up, went to my room, and pulled out the box from under my bed. Inside were the memories of a life that no longer existed: wedding photos, love notes, Ethan’s first gift to me, the tiny blue blanket I’d bought for our son.

One by one, I threw them into the fireplace.

The photos curled and blackened. The smell of burnt paper filled the air.

I watched until nothing remained but ash.

I went back to the bedroom and started packing my clothes and documents into my box.

When I turned around, Ethan was standing by the door. His face was hard, his eyes cold.

“So, you’re packing already,” he said. “Good. When Clara comes back, she’ll move into the master bedroom. The guest room makes her uncomfortable. You can stay there.”

I said nothing.

He frowned. “I’m glad you’re finally seeing things my way. Maybe you’re not as useless as I thought.”

I turned back to my suitcase. “Is that all, Ethan?”

He ignored me and continued, “Clara’s in the hospital. She needs a blood transfusion. You’ll come with me.”

I froze. “No. I’m not donating anything to her.”

His jaw tightened. “You’ll do as I say.”

When I didn’t move, he grabbed my arm and pulled me along. “You owe her for everything she’s endured because of you.”

—

When we arrived, the doctor hesitated the moment he saw me. His eyes flicked from my pale face to the needle tray on the table.

“Mr. Morales,” he began carefully, “your wife isn’t in any condition for this. Her blood levels are critically low, and she’s still recovering from—”

Ethan’s glare cut him off. “Do I look like I care? Clara’s life is on the line. Do it.”

The doctor shifted uncomfortably. “If I take more blood from her, she might—”

“DO IT!” Ethan snapped, his voice echoing across the sterile white room.

The doctor’s hands shook slightly as he inserted the needle into my arm. The cold sting of metal pierced my skin, and crimson began to flow into the transparent bag.

The sound of the drip was too loud.

Ethan stood by the wall, his arms crossed. “Hurry it up,” he said flatly.

Minutes passed. My vision started to blur. The room tilted slightly, and the doctor’s voice sounded distant. “That’s enough. She’s at her limit—”

Clara’s shrill voice cut through the air, “Ethan, help, it hurts!”

“There’s nothing—” the doctor started to say but Ethan interrupted him.

“Take more!” he barked at the doctor.

The doctor froze. “Sir, if we take more blood, she could—”

“I said TAKE MORE!” Ethan thundered.

The doctor’s face was pale as he obeyed. The needle dug deeper, and I gasped. My chest hurt, my skin was clammy, but the worst pain was watching Ethan hold Clara’s hand as I bled for her.

“Ethan…” I whispered weakly. “Please… stop…”

He didn’t even turn. He stroked Clara’s hair and murmured, “It’s okay. You’ll be fine. Don’t cry.”

Each drop of blood felt like a piece of me leaving forever.

My lips turned numb, my body trembling violently.

The doctor tried once more, “Mr. Morales, she’s going into shock—”

“She’s faking it,” Ethan snapped coldly. “She always does this when she wants attention.”

My vision darkened. The beeping from the monitor became frantic. I could barely breathe.

Suddenly, the doctor shoved Ethan aside and pulled the tube out of my arm. “That’s ENOUGH!” he shouted. “You’ll kill her!”

Blood splattered across the sheet. I slumped back, my body shaking uncontrollably.

“Get her stabilized!” the doctor barked at the nurses.

The last thing I saw before the world went black was Ethan holding Clara close as she whimpered,

“I’m sorry, Ethan… this is all my fault,” she cried.

“It’s not your fault, Adeline is just being dramatic as always,” Ethan said coldly.

I stared at the man who had once promised to protect me as he glared at me like I was a stranger then I gave in to the darkness.