My Stolen Wedding

On the eve of my wedding, my wife, Sharon Moonstone, drugged me and knocked me unconscious.

She let her first love, Aaron Miller, take my place as the groom, standing beside her as they held the wedding that was supposed to belong to both of us.

By the time I finally found them, they had already gone into the bridal suite and consummated their marriage.

When I demanded answers, Sharon did not show a trace of guilt. "You live off me. You'd better behave. Make a scene, and we'll divorce."

My heart went cold. I handed her the divorce papers, but she barely looked at them.

"Looks like you've improved," she said lightly. "At least you know a performance should be convincing from start to finish."

Sharon Moonstone did not sign the papers that day. Instead, she froze the bank card she had given me and kicked me out of the villa.

I knew exactly what she was doing. She was trying to force me to beg.

In her eyes, I was nothing more than a pretty boy she kept around, someone she paid to exist.

She was convinced that within three days, I would be crawling back to her in disgrace, kneeling in front of her, and confessing my sins.

Unfortunately for her, several days passed, and I still did not bow my head. In the end, she was the one who lost patience and came looking for me first.

The moment she stepped through the door, her first words were dripping with mockery. "Without me, this is all you can afford? A rundown rental?"

She dropped herself onto the couch, sprawling without any grace, then issued an order, "Go take a shower. Serve me properly, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened."

The confidence in her voice, the way she looked down on me from above, was almost laughable.

I placed the divorce agreement I had prepared long ago onto the low table in front of her. My voice was flat.

"Sign it."

Sharon flipped through the document casually, then sneered. "You’ve improved. At least you know a performance has to look convincing from start to finish."

Then she added coldly, "I suggest you stop pretending. If I really sign this, you’re the one who’ll regret it."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You’re not young anymore. Can you think about the consequences before acting for once?"

I shot back coldly, "If you cared about consequences, you wouldn’t have drugged me with sleeping pills."

At my words, Sharon’s expression grew even more irritated. "What’s the point of constantly digging up the past?

"Aaron is severely depressed. If I hadn’t held that wedding with him, he would have killed himself. What was I supposed to do?"

I lowered my gaze and said nothing.

Her tone remained impatient. "I know you’ve been wronged. Once Aaron’s condition stabilizes, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you another wedding."

She reached out, trying to ruffle my hair. "Smile, pup. Your owner doesn’t like unhappy puppies."

Those two humiliating lines were once our unspoken ceasefire signal. Now, they no longer worked.

I tilted my head and avoided her hand. I was not a clean freak, yet the thought that this hand had touched another man made my stomach churn.

Her hand froze in midair. The room fell silent for several seconds before her voice exploded in fury.

"Even throwing a tantrum has its limits!" She grabbed my chin. "You toss out the divorce papers and feel satisfied! Do you know you triggered Aaron? He slit his wrists. If I hadn’t found him in time..."

Fear still lingered in her eyes as she jabbed a finger against my forehead. "You almost cost someone his life! Aaron isn’t even blaming you anymore. Can you stop clinging to this already?"

I stated my condition, "As long as the two of you never see each other again."

Sharon rejected it immediately. "I’m pregnant. It’s Aaron’s."

My heart turned ice-cold. My wife was carrying another man’s child.

"You’ve always wanted a child, haven’t you?" she said lightly. "Behave yourself. In a couple of years, I’ll give you one too."

I shook my head. There was no need.

Sharon rolled her eyes. "You think I want to have a child with you? After the divorce, you can have a whole soccer team with someone else. I don’t care."

She sneered again and again. "Constantly acting out won’t get my attention. It’ll only disgust me.

"You want a divorce, right? Fine. I’ll grant your wish." She signed her name on the agreement and flung it straight into my face.

Sharon looked at me smugly, waiting to enjoy the sight of me panicking after my little scheme was exposed.

Instead, I simply picked up the papers and told her to leave.

Her face flushed red with anger. "Don’t regret this!"

As she was about to step out the door, I called after her.

She raised her brows triumphantly. "Regretting it already? Too late."

I spoke calmly, "Set a time. Let’s go get the divorce certificate."