When The Unwanted Bride Becomes The Most Pampered Heiress

Marissa was stunned. Her real parents had found her a husband?

She clenched her fists tightly, a cold dread seeping into her chest as the realization dawned.

Had her parents, whom she had never met, already started plotting her future behind her back?

"Marissa, try not to worry too much—living in the rural area isn't nearly as tough as it might seem. With diligent effort, you will manage to get by, plus you'll have affectionate parents watching over you. Your life will be so much better than mine was. I was forced to plead for mercy from those human smugglers..." Evelina murmured, her gaze lowered while tears trickled down, stirring feelings of pity in observers.

"My poor daughter," Susanna sobbed, embracing Evelina closely, her eyes shooting daggers of fury toward Marissa. "Get out of here right this instant, Marissa! I can't stand the sight of you!"

Marissa tightened her lips before addressing Bryson with measured emphasis, "Mr. Hardy, even if Evelina is the real daughter of the Fletcher family, you are mistaken about one thing: it was I who nursed you back to health."

Bryson scowled in revulsion. "Although I lacked sight and hearing previously, my remaining perceptions were acute. I remembered that the woman who cared for me had a mark on the back of her left hand, identical to Evelina's. How on earth could I confuse that? Marissa, you've enjoyed a life of opulence within the Fletcher household—how would someone like you acquire such a scar? You can't fool me. Kindly cease this nonsense."

Marissa let out a wry chuckle.

She lifted her left arm and stripped away the glove, displaying an unblemished hand.

There was meant to be a mark there. It stemmed from an accident when she first attempted cooking and mishandled the stove, resulting in a significant burn scar. Susanna had insisted she keep it as a lesson, and Marissa typically concealed it with a glove for aesthetic reasons.

However, during her time tending to Bryson and administering treatments, she never wore the glove.

For this wedding ceremony, symbolizing a farewell to her former life, Marissa had at last eradicated that scar from her skin.

Yet, she never foresaw it would deprive her of the opportunity to validate her actions.

Bryson eyed her revealed hand with a mocking smirk, then seized Evelina's left hand, yanking off her glove against her protests, exposing a grotesque scar.

The lesion appeared inflamed, oozing with fluid and blisters, presenting a repellent sight.

It was a fresh thermal injury, not an old burn, destined to heal and fade within days.

Marissa's attention shifted to Susanna, who averted her face in discomfort.

Susanna's tone wavered as she declared, "Evelina's scar can be corrected through plastic surgery in the future. She ought not to bear any disfigurements."

Marissa erupted in derisive laughter.

The truth became crystal clear.

Susanna was aware that Marissa had attended to Bryson, yet she deliberately attributed the merit to Evelina.

Marissa cast a final glance at the individuals she had once regarded as family and beloved.

There was Evelina's triumphant gleam, Susanna's look of repulsion, her husband Phil Fletcher's feigned helplessness, and Bryson's irritation...

Marissa realized she was a bigger fool than Bryson.

She pivoted and descended the steps, observing that her bridal gown's edge dragged excessively. Without hesitation, she ripped it decisively, hiking the cumbersome skirt up to her knees.

Displaying an impassive face, Marissa exited the hall, resolute in her resolve.

Given that the Fletcher family had never truly accepted her, and Bryson firmly believed Evelina to be his savior, then every advantage and initiative she had facilitated for both the Fletcher and Hardy families would be revoked.

Susanna observed Marissa's departure, her forehead creased in contempt. "After all the effort we invested in nurturing her, she proves utterly ungrateful. She is incomparable to Evelina!"

As Marissa proceeded out of the venue, murmurs trailed her, but she paid them no heed, advancing directly to the front gate.

The primary doorway stood vacant, save for the security guard engaged in a call. "I've already explained, entry isn't open to just anybody. This is a premium matrimonial site. Quit bothering me!"

After disconnecting, the guard spotted Marissa and remarked scornfully, "Aren't you the impostor from the Fletcher family? Your real parents just reached out, instructing that you remain here for a pickup. I'm confused about why they're asking if there's ample parking room. How massive could their vehicle be? Are they showing up in some rickety truck?"

Just as the guard concluded, a sleek black elongated Lincoln screeched to a halt directly before Marissa.