Chapter 3 · His Wedding, My Funeral

Chapter 3

The noise they were making was impossible to ignore, even from several rooms down the hall—I caught every cringe-worthy detail.

Along with the fury boiling inside me, there was a deep, aching sorrow.

You couldn't just erase ten years of feelings overnight; those cherished memories were now in shards, tearing my heart to pieces.

But this wasn't the moment to barge in and start a screaming match. In just two more weeks, I'd deliver a wedding he'd remember for the rest of his life.

Around dawn, a sudden knock jolted me awake at the door.

I dragged myself out of bed, rubbing my eyes, and cracked it open.

It was Patrica.

She gave a lazy wave, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Hope Elwood and I didn't ruin your beauty rest, Justine?"

"Beat it," I said flatly.

"Aww, you are so mean."

I ignored her and went to slam the door, but she wedged her hand in to stop it.

"Oh yeah—I sent you a WhatsApp friend request. Go ahead and accept."

"Not interested."

"Don't shoot it down so fast. I've got something juicy for you to check out."

In a blur, Patrica snatched my unlocked phone, fired up WhatsApp, and approved the add herself.

Noticing my scowl, she smirked and passed it back. "Delete me, and you'll kick yourself later."

I gritted my teeth, staying quiet.

Losing my cool and exploding would play right into her hands.

Patrica clearly wasn't finished, stepping back in with undisguised mockery in her eyes.

The second Patrica stepped away, my phone buzzed.

She'd sent her so-called "good stuff."

Screenshots of her chats with Elwood.

One glance, and I froze in place.

Elwood: [Baby, don't be mad. Justine and I have just been together so long we have to get married, but you're the only one I love in my heart. We'll be together forever.]

Those last words rang a bell—he'd said something like that to me once, too.

I zoned out for a few seconds, then let out a bitter laugh.

Maybe I'd been holding on too tight, stuck on the guy I'd fallen for back at the beginning.

Then Patrica followed up with a handful of raunchy photos.

And a video.

Patrica: [Elwood's totally wiped out and snoring away.]

In the face of her obvious baiting, I didn't bite—I just downloaded the photos and video, then screenshotted and saved every last message.

Swapping insults was a waste of time. I was aiming for a total takedown.

It wasn't long before Patrica went radio silent.

My stonewalling probably left her feeling like she'd swung at nothing but air.

Outside, fireworks burst across the sky, and amid the ear-splitting pops, I stumbled back to bed like a clockwork toy on its last turn.

Over the next few days, as I went to the police station to change my name, I connected through back channels with a company that specialized in faking deaths.

The method we'd go with: a staged suicide by jumping into the sea.

I wired the deposit immediately, and they rang me on an encrypted line—their voice obviously altered.

"Ms. Decker, one final confirmation: death date is your wedding day, location is the Crown Hotel in Urgbert city. If that's all set, the contract activates right away."

"Yep, confirmed."

"Great. Wishing you a vibrant new life ahead."

Once the call wrapped, I headed over to the hotel to scout it out in advance.

Perched right on the water's edge, the Crown Hotel was unmatched in Urgbert city. Elwood and I had booked the top floor for the wedding, complete with a sprawling terrace that extended out over the ocean—ideal for what I had in mind.

Such a breathtaking, postcard-perfect place. Fitting that I'd chosen it as my symbolic burial ground.

After a hectic day on the go, dusk had fallen by the time I made it home.

Surprisingly, Elwood was kicking back in the living room, clearly waiting for my return.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"What's up?" I countered.

"I've got a gift for you."

Gift?

Was I hearing things? Pigs must be flying today.

Elwood fished out a necklace and offered it to me—from a brand I actually adored. I'd admit, it threw me for a loop, and I hesitated to take it.

He kept his other hand tucked in his pocket, acting all nonchalant.

"The doctor says my recovery's coming along nicely. Bits and pieces from our past are starting to come back. But don't get too excited—this necklace doesn't mean I've let bygones be bygones."

It was pure fabrication, spouted with righteous indignation. Recovery? Give me a break. This was just his post-cheating guilt kicking in.

I kept my cool, far from the ecstatic response he'd anticipated.

"Cut to the chase if there's something on your mind."

Silence hung in the air for a beat.

Elwood seemed on the verge of pressing further—maybe to interrogate me about my weird behavior—but it clashed with his current facade, so he swallowed it.

"Grandpa and Grandma want to see us."

"Pass."

Chapter 3

The noise they were making was impossible to ignore, even from several rooms down the hall—I caught every cringe-worthy detail.

Along with the fury boiling inside me, there was a deep, aching sorrow.

You couldn't just erase ten years of feelings overnight; those cherished memories were now in shards, tearing my heart to pieces.

But this wasn't the moment to barge in and start a screaming match. In just two more weeks, I'd deliver a wedding he'd remember for the rest of his life.

Around dawn, a sudden knock jolted me awake at the door.

I dragged myself out of bed, rubbing my eyes, and cracked it open.

It was Patrica.

She gave a lazy wave, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Hope Elwood and I didn't ruin your beauty rest, Justine?"

"Beat it," I said flatly.

"Aww, you are so mean."

I ignored her and went to slam the door, but she wedged her hand in to stop it.

"Oh yeah—I sent you a WhatsApp friend request. Go ahead and accept."

"Not interested."

"Don't shoot it down so fast. I've got something juicy for you to check out."

In a blur, Patrica snatched my unlocked phone, fired up WhatsApp, and approved the add herself.

Noticing my scowl, she smirked and passed it back. "Delete me, and you'll kick yourself later."

I gritted my teeth, staying quiet.

Losing my cool and exploding would play right into her hands.

Patrica clearly wasn't finished, stepping back in with undisguised mockery in her eyes.

The second Patrica stepped away, my phone buzzed.

She'd sent her so-called "good stuff."

Screenshots of her chats with Elwood.

One glance, and I froze in place.

Elwood: [Baby, don't be mad. Justine and I have just been together so long we have to get married, but you're the only one I love in my heart. We'll be together forever.]

Those last words rang a bell—he'd said something like that to me once, too.

I zoned out for a few seconds, then let out a bitter laugh.

Maybe I'd been holding on too tight, stuck on the guy I'd fallen for back at the beginning.

Then Patrica followed up with a handful of raunchy photos.

And a video.

Patrica: [Elwood's totally wiped out and snoring away.]

In the face of her obvious baiting, I didn't bite—I just downloaded the photos and video, then screenshotted and saved every last message.

Swapping insults was a waste of time. I was aiming for a total takedown.

It wasn't long before Patrica went radio silent.

My stonewalling probably left her feeling like she'd swung at nothing but air.

Outside, fireworks burst across the sky, and amid the ear-splitting pops, I stumbled back to bed like a clockwork toy on its last turn.

Over the next few days, as I went to the police station to change my name, I connected through back channels with a company that specialized in faking deaths.

The method we'd go with: a staged suicide by jumping into the sea.

I wired the deposit immediately, and they rang me on an encrypted line—their voice obviously altered.

"Ms. Decker, one final confirmation: death date is your wedding day, location is the Crown Hotel in Urgbert city. If that's all set, the contract activates right away."

"Yep, confirmed."

"Great. Wishing you a vibrant new life ahead."

Once the call wrapped, I headed over to the hotel to scout it out in advance.

Such a breathtaking, postcard-perfect place. Fitting that I'd chosen it as my symbolic burial ground.

After a hectic day on the go, dusk had fallen by the time I made it home.

Surprisingly, Elwood was kicking back in the living room, clearly waiting for my return.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"What's up?" I countered.

"I've got a gift for you."

Gift?

Was I hearing things? Pigs must be flying today.

Elwood fished out a necklace and offered it to me—from a brand I actually adored. I'd admit, it threw me for a loop, and I hesitated to take it.

He kept his other hand tucked in his pocket, acting all nonchalant.

"The doctor says my recovery's coming along nicely. Bits and pieces from our past are starting to come back. But don't get too excited—this necklace doesn't mean I've let bygones be bygones."

It was pure fabrication, spouted with righteous indignation. Recovery? Give me a break. This was just his post-cheating guilt kicking in.

I kept my cool, far from the ecstatic response he'd anticipated.

"Cut to the chase if there's something on your mind."

Silence hung in the air for a beat.

Elwood seemed on the verge of pressing further—maybe to interrogate me about my weird behavior—but it clashed with his current facade, so he swallowed it.

"Grandpa and Grandma want to see us."

"Pass."