Chapter 3
The doors swung open, but no one stood at the end of the red carpet. The bride didn't appear.
I, who should have been walking slowly down the aisle on my father's arm, was not there at all.
There was only the empty, petal-strewn red carpet stretched out before them.
The wedding march kept playing, yet that romantic melody felt eerie and ironic.
A low murmur began to ripple through the guests.
"What's going on? Where's the bride?"
"Did something happen?"
"Come on, the wedding has already begun. Why isn't the bride coming out?"
Jonathan's smile froze completely.
A flicker of panic flashed in his eyes, but he forced it down.
He gave his best man, a trusted confidant, a meaningful glance.
The best man caught on instantly and rushed backstage.
Jonathan picked up the microphone, trying to keep things under control.
His voice remained steady, betraying no hint of what he was feeling. "Looks like my bride's feeling a little shy. She wants to give me and all of you a special surprise. Let's give her a little more time, okay?"
Despite their confusion, the guests offered polite applause.
*****
Backstage, Victoria, dressed in her wedding gown, was on the verge of tears. "What do we do now? Eleanor really didn't come. She's definitely doing this on purpose. She wants to ruin our wedding."
Jonathan's mother, Paige Prescott, looked gloomy.
She pointed right at Victoria and hissed in a low voice, "How dare you even speak? If it weren't for you causing trouble at a time like this, the Prescott family wouldn't be so humiliated."
Victoria was frozen in fear, unable to say a single word, her eyes brimming with tears.
Jonathan stormed backstage and demanded, his expression thunderous, "Where's Eleanor?"
The best man shook his head. "We can't find her. Her phone isn't answering, and she is not at the Whitmore residence."
Jonathan punched the wall hard. "Damn it."
She really made a fool out of him.
"What are we going to do now, Jonathan? Everyone's waiting out there," Paige asked, her voice trembling with anxiety.
Jonathan took a deep breath, a cold, determined look flashing in his eyes. "Mom, tell Victoria to get ready."
Paige froze. "You mean..."
"That's right," Jonathan said, his voice resolute. "Victoria will be the bride. Tell everyone Eleanor suddenly fell ill, and her best friend Victoria is stepping in to finish the ceremony in her place."
Paige was so shocked that she stammered, "T-This is absurd. We can't—"
"It's better than letting the Prescott family become the city's laughingstock," Jonathan interrupted impatiently. "That's final. Go get ready."
*****
Just then, the massive LED screen at the wedding venue suddenly lit up.
It was meant to play romantic shots of the couple.
Instead, the screen was swallowed by darkness.
Then, Jonathan's voice echoed through the venue. "Shut up. Don't mention her. Starting tomorrow, you'll be Mrs. Prescott."
Those were his exact words to Victoria last night in the bridal suite.
The whole place went dead silent.
Everyone stared in shock at the screen, then at Jonathan standing on stage, pale as a sheet.
The screen stayed pitch black, but the sounds were crystal clear.
There was a woman's ragged breathing, a man's low, suppressed groans, and their shameless, indecent words.
"Jonathan, do you really love me?" Victoria's voice was soft.
"Bitch, who else would I love if not you?" Jonathan teased.
"What about Eleanor?" Victoria asked.
"Her? She's so dull. I'm only with her for her family's connections. Otherwise, I would've dumped her long ago," Jonathan said dismissively.
"You're so bad," Victoria whispered.
A gasp escaped someone, and the whole wedding venue erupted into an uproar.
Shock, disgust, and a wicked sense of amusement flashed across the guests' faces. They were clearly enjoying the spectacle.
Countless phones were raised, cameras flashing as everyone zeroed in on the man on stage, barely holding himself together.
The flashes stabbed at Jonathan like knives, tearing apart the last shreds of his dignity.
My parents turned very pale, their fury so intense that they were shaking.
And Jonathan's father, Soren Prescott, the kind of guy who never took no for an answer in business, looked very dark.
The recording kept echoing through the hall.
Every word landed like a stinging slap, humiliating the Prescott family in front of everyone.
Jonathan went numb, as if he'd been dumped into a freezing pit.
He never in his wildest dreams thought I would strike back at him this way.
"Hurry up. Turn it off." He glared toward backstage, his mouth open in a silent shout.
A few crew members scrambled over to the equipment, fumbling frantically to shut down the screen.
But the screen was like it had gone rogue. No matter what they tried, it wouldn't turn off.
At long last, the recording finished.
The screen plunged into darkness.
The silence in the hall was even more chilling than before.
Soren rose to his feet.
His weathered face betrayed nothing.
But the storm in his eyes threatened to tear the place apart.
He didn't bother looking at his useless son.
Instead, he turned to the security guards nearby and gave a cold, commanding order. "Drag that shameless bitch out of backstage."