On Our Wedding, My Fiancé Mistakenly Pick My Bestfriend

“I didn’t do it!” I firmly denied.

“Gracie,” Giselle said with a trembling voice, “I don’t know if you truly hate me... You said you wanted to talk today, to clear the air between us. But why did you drug my water? Why did you set a fire? Why did you try to push me out the window? At first, I thought it was all just a terrible coincidence... but were you really not trying to kill me?”

Her words twisted the atmosphere like a knife.

Frederick's face darkened instantly, his eyes filled with cold fury. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and dangerous.

“There’s still half a cup of water on the bedside table. If I call the police and have it tested, what excuse will you have then?”

My eyes burned as I shook my head. My voice was hoarse as I spoke. “I didn’t hurt her. This was all a setup—something she staged to frame me. That cup of water? I drank from it. Whatever she’s saying, it’s not the truth.”

“I don’t even know how she got into this apartment. You’re the one who told me—this place only has our fingerprints registered.”

At the mention of fingerprints, something flickered in Frederick’s gaze. He looked uneasy. But just then, Giselle cried out and collapsed against him, clutching her belly.

Frederick panicked and caught her instantly, lifting her into his arms.

“Save it for the police. You don’t seem seriously hurt—no need to waste emergency resources.”

After saying that, he rushed her to the hospital.

On the other hand, I was taken to the police station. The burns on my arm were hastily wrapped with gauze. No concern. No care.

After five days in custody, I was suddenly told I could go home. Apparently, Giselle had chosen not to press charges. They told me I should “turn over a new leaf.”

Walking out of the police station, I felt hollow—like someone had scooped out everything inside me. I barely had the strength to stay on my feet.

Not far off, Frederick’s car door opened. He stepped out, helping Giselle gently down.

All I could think of was getting away from here.

“You’re coming to the product launch the day after tomorrow,” he said flatly. “As my fiancée, you better start acting the part.”

“I’m not going,” I said without turning around. “Isn’t she right there beside you? Why not take the real star of your show?”

Frederick’s brows furrowed, his tone sharp. “Don’t be ungrateful. If I hadn’t already made our engagement public, do you really think I’d still want to bring you?”

“You can just post another update—tell them we’ve divorced. What’s so hard about that?” I clapped back.

“You ungrateful woman!” Giselle snapped. “If Frederick weren’t doing this for me, he wouldn’t even be looking at you! A vicious person like you doesn’t deserve him!”

She paused, casting a glance at the bandages on my arm.

“Oh, and cover that ugly thing properly on the launch day. Don’t ruin the event.”

I looked straight at Frederick, and for the first time, truly saw him for who he was.

All these days, he hadn’t even noticed I was hurt.

I was nothing to him.

“Fine,” I said quietly. “See you at the launch.”

I turned and walked away.

“Gracie! Frederick came here to pick you up personally! Don’t be ungrateful!”

“I don’t ride in garbage trucks,” I called back over my shoulder.

—

I returned to the apartment complex where Frederick and I used to live.

The place was scorched beyond recognition. But I was lucky—my ID and a few pieces of luggage had been saved from the fire.

I took them back to my rental, packed everything neatly, and made my decision.

On the day of the launch, I arrived at the company building—but only to deliver a document to Frederick’s secretary.

Inside the folder was a divorce agreement, neatly signed and sealed.

“I’m heading to the styling team,” I said casually.

But I didn’t go there.

I went straight to the airport.

As I boarded the plane, Frederick’s launch event officially began.

But I never showed up.

Frederick stood on stage, maintaining a calm façade while tension simmered beneath.

When reporters asked about me, he forced a smile. “She had an urgent matter. She’ll be here soon.”

Just then, an assistant came rushing up.

“Mr. Jones, Adams’s phone is off. But she asked me to give you this.”

He took the folder with a clenched jaw and stormed backstage.

Inside, his hands trembled slightly as he opened the envelope.

The moment he saw the signed divorce papers, his lips pressed into a thin, furious line.

“Keep calling her,” he ordered coldly. “Don’t stop until she answers.”

My cell phone was flooded with calls, so I turned it off. This time, I wanted to completely get rid of everything that made me sad.