1 At the wedding, my fiancé’s best friend, Julia, appeared in a stunning bridal gown. She usurped my place as the bride, exchanging rings with Andy Thorne, speaking vows meant for me. The sudden swap of brides left me exposed to the whispering judgment of every guest. I tried to demand an explanation from Andy, but he simply shrugged, utterly unconcerned: “Julia was merely showing consideration for your difficult pregnancy, stepping in to spare you. Instead of being grateful and resting, you’re indulging in petty jealousy, judging a true friend with a malicious heart? When will you stop with this ridiculous jealousy? Julia and I are just friends, a bond deeper than any romantic dalliance. Even if there were anything more, it wouldn’t be your place to question it.” Before every single guest, Andy and Julia shared a long, passionate kiss. After the ceremony, he carried her—drunken and oblivious—to our bridal suite to rest, leaving me alone, at the mercy of his groomsmen, who relentlessly plied me with drink. While I faced the terrifying prospect of miscarriage, brought on by emotional distress, Andy was celebrating his wedding night with his "best friend." Later, when I had a small package delivered to him—a chilling, undeniable testament to the life he’d carelessly destroyed—Andy gripped my shoulders, his eyes wild with frantic desperation. “Julia and I are done! Stop these cruel jokes, give me back our child!” At the wedding venue, Julia glided in, adorned in the bridal gown I had personally designed, as Andy’s groomsmen erupted in cheers. I, the rightful bride, was barred at the entrance by security, forced to watch as they exchanged rings, a silent, helpless witness. For this wedding, I had tirelessly worked through my pregnancy, even lying awake all last night, trembling with anticipation. All because, after seven years of loving him, Andy Thorne was finally willing to make me his wife. Yet today, the very rings and gown I had carefully prepared, the symbols of our union, were now adorning Julia. For a moment, I truly believed exhaustion had finally driven me to hallucinate. “Look at Clara, she’s completely dumbfounded!” “After chasing Andy for so long, and only getting a proposal because she was pregnant, the bride suddenly gets swapped for Julia. She’s definitely going to throw another tantrum.” “Clara always tried to control Andy, stopping him from hanging out with us, especially forbidding him from being with Julia.” “Now, she just looks like a pathetic clown!” Andy’s groomsmen gossiped freely, their voices loud and utterly heedless of my presence or feelings. I knew they were doing this deliberately. They had always been Andy’s closest confidantes, especially Julia, the only woman among them. A single phone call from her, and Andy, even if he was in bed with me, would immediately stop everything and rush to meet her. This had caused countless arguments between Andy and me. But due to the strategic alliance between the Vance and Thorne families, and my genuine love for him, I always ended up apologizing first, seeking reconciliation. Andy would always “forgive” me, saying, “Clara, Julia and the guys are my best friends. You know your husband, I’m loyal to a fault. How could I ignore a call from my friends?” Unlike other young lords, Andy valued sentiment. In the early days of our relationship, he had been endlessly attentive, showering me with affection. It had utterly captivated me, drawing me into his world. The security guard still held me back, unyielding, as on the dais, the officiant had already begun the exchange of vows between the “bride and groom.” Andy knelt before Julia, his voice imbued with tender emotion, “Clara, will you marry me?” A flicker of jealousy and resentment crossed Julia’s eyes. She glanced at me in the distance, then demurely accepted Andy’s proposal. The hall immediately erupted in a cacophony of whispers. “Isn’t that Julia Davis, the youngest of the Davis family? Why is that Thorne boy calling her Clara?” “Ah, you don’t know. Today was supposed to be the Thorne-Vance wedding, and Clara is Lady Vance’s name. But for some reason, Lady Vance never showed up!” “Could the bride have been swapped? I heard Andy and Julia were childhood sweethearts, perfect for each other. If it weren’t for Clara suddenly appearing and clinging to Andy, they would have been together ages ago.” “Exactly. The Thornes and Davises have been wealthy for generations. The Vances are just nouveau riche. Why would Andy choose a crude upstart over a refined childhood sweetheart?” Julia. Always Julia. Every time she appeared, everyone seemed to believe she was a better match for Andy. Yet she always played the innocent, claiming she and Andy were “just friends.” Listening to the mounting whispers from the guests, I hardened my heart, pushed past the security guard, and burst through the doors. I stormed directly to Andy, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. “Andy Thorne, what is the meaning of this? Today is our wedding! You gave my gown and rings to Julia, and you’re declaring vows to her?!” 2 “Are you truly blind to Julia’s intentions for you? Or perhaps… you reciprocate them? You will give me an explanation today, or we are finished, right here, right now!” Andy, who had initially reached for my hand upon seeing me, flinched back as I flung his arm away and launched into my furious interrogation. His face darkened, yet his words remained dismissive: “What do you mean? Julia was merely showing consideration for your difficult pregnancy, stepping in to spare you. Instead of being grateful and resting, you’re indulging in petty jealousy, judging a true friend with a malicious heart?” I stared at him, utterly incredulous. “Stepping in for me?” Since Andy and I began our relationship, this wasn't the first time Julia had “stepped in” for me. When Andy took me to various business galas, Julia was always trailing by our side, pointedly ignoring my conversations with Andy. When others invited Andy to open the dance with his girlfriend, she would preemptively link her arm through his, sneering at me, “Clara, a country bumpkin like you, can you even dance? Scram.” Andy would frown, about to speak up for me, but then Julia would feign wounded innocence, her eyes welling up, “But I’m your best friend, are you going to abandon your friends for a pretty face?” and he would helplessly close his mouth, allowing me to be pushed aside. Even during intimate dates between Andy and me, his groomsmen would barge in, egging Julia on to kiss Andy. “No offense, sister-in-law, but let Julia test if Andy’s lips are good for kissing!” They laughed raucously, pushing the heart-shaped cake I had personally baked towards Julia. Julia squeezed me out, settling beside Andy, playfully chiding, “Andy and I are just strictly platonic friends!” Yet, with a glance full of adoration, she fed him the cake, as if she were his lover. I closed my eyes, battling the sharp ache in my chest, as I looked at Andy Thorne, the groom in his pristine suit—the very image I had longed for in my dreams. “Andy, today is our wedding. I don’t want to argue with you. Just make Julia give me back my gown and rings, promise that you’ll cut all ties with her, and I will pretend none of this ever happened.” Andy scoffed, a cold sneer twisting his lips. “Clara, what is wrong with you? When will you get over this ridiculous jealousy? Julia and I are just friends, a bond deeper than any romantic dalliance. Even if there were anything more, it wouldn’t be your place to question it.” Julia glared at me. “Clara, I was just being kind, stepping in as the bride for you! Look at you, with such a big belly, how inconvenient would it be to wear a wedding dress?” She turned, pouting sweetly to Andy. “Andy, I’ve seen enough of women like Clara—always so dramatic, constantly jealous, terrified their man will cheat. You mustn’t pity her!” Andy looked at me thoughtfully, the disgust in his eyes deepening. The officiant, looking uncomfortable, cleared his throat. “Mr. Thorne, the vows are complete. It’s time for the groom and bride to kiss, if you please…” “Julia, look up.” Andy shot me a provocative glance, then tilted Julia’s chin and kissed her. The crowd gasped, then Andy’s groomsmen led a boisterous round of applause. “Congratulations, Andy, on winning your beautiful bride! Later, you must have a drink with us, your buddies!” “Oh, look, the bride’s blushing…” Amidst the chorus of blessings, I stood frozen, my face ghostly pale. My lips trembled, a voice that sounded alien to my own escaped me. “Andy…” Andy finally released Julia, raising an eyebrow at me, his voice languid. “Clara, do you truly think that just because you’re carrying my child, you can walk all over me? I’ve been too lenient with you lately. Don’t forget who was begging for my attention, desperate to be with me in the first place.” The smile faded from Andy’s lips. He issued his final command. “Clara, this kiss today is a lesson for you, and a compensation for Julia. You are still my bride. When my parents arrive later, during the toasts, you will follow behind Julia and me.” I listened numbly. Andy took my silence as acquiescence. He roughly pulled me forward, causing me to stumble, almost losing my balance. Julia looked at me with disdain. “Clara, you truly are useless. If it weren’t for your brother, Julian Vance, willing to throw money at the Thornes, Mother and Father would never have considered you as a daughter-in-law.” Julian Vance was my brother, though not by blood. When I was nine, my parents adopted twelve-year-old Julian, the orphaned son of their close friends. When I turned twelve, my parents, like their friends, passed away. A fourteen-year-old Julian raised me, taking on the roles of both father and mother. 3 He had built an empire from nothing, becoming a new magnate in the City, yet was ridiculed as “nouveau riche” by these old-money families. To be with Andy, I had indeed begged Julian to invest a considerable fortune into the Thorne family. The Thornes, though boasting a vast and venerable estate, were in steady decline. Even if the Thornes disdained my background, they could not refuse the money practically handed to them. After I insisted on keeping Andy’s child, Julian, uncharacteristically, flew into a rage and severely beat Andy. And he had refused to see me ever since. During the wedding preparations, I hesitated for a long time but still sent him an invitation. It too, sank without a trace. “Father, Mother, you’re here.” A middle-aged couple, impeccably dressed in expensive attire, stepped out of their car. Andy smiled, striding confidently to greet them. “Mr. and Mrs. Thorne.” Julia followed closely behind, her smile sugary sweet. She had changed out of the bridal gown, but still wore a vibrant, striking crimson gown, as if afraid no one would notice her. Mrs. Thorne caressed Julia’s hand, her face beaming. “Julia, you look absolutely beautiful today!” She turned to me, her smile instantly vanishing. “Clara, what is the meaning of this? You’re marrying my son, and you’re not even wearing a wedding dress?” I tried to explain, but Julia viciously pinched me from behind. The pain made me almost stumble. Mrs. Thorne’s expression grew even more severe. “You’re just pregnant, aren’t you? Are you really so delicate? When I was pregnant with Andy, I wasn’t nearly this fragile!” Julia echoed triumphantly, “Exactly. An upstart from nowhere, acting like some pampered princess.” It was true, I had been pampered growing up, but it was due to my health. As a premature baby, my parents showered me with endless care. After they passed, Julian was equally devoted. If I hadn’t fallen for Andy, I would never have had to endure such hardship. I clutched my lower abdomen. The rapid succession of shocks left me feeling disoriented. Coupled with the recent pain, my stomach was now subtly aching. Andy frowned, glancing at me. He supported me, but his voice was laced with sarcasm. “If you’re not feeling well, stay out of the way. Why try to be strong? You were so demanding just now, and yet you still need Julia to stand in for you during the toasts?” Seeing me silent, head bowed, he let out an impatient “Tsk,” clearly bored. He turned away, ignoring me. I watched as he, arm-in-arm with Julia, toasted his parents, then went around, toasting each guest. Everyone seemed to have accepted Julia as the true bride of the ceremony. Cheers of “May Andy and Julia enjoy a hundred years of happiness!” and “May you soon be blessed with children!” rang out continuously. Andy thanked each person, never once correcting them. Finally, the wedding concluded. Everyone had eaten and drunk their fill and were preparing to disperse. Mrs. Thorne forcefully dragged me to the door, making me stand with her to see the guests off. I stood there, feeling utterly disgraced, enduring the strange, pitying glances of the departing guests. Then Andy approached, carrying a drunken Julia in his arms. “Mother, Clara, Julia’s had too much. Give me the car keys, I’ll take her home first.” Mrs. Thorne looked at the mumbling Julia with tenderness, then chided him, “Home? Where would she go? Julia needs a good rest! And you needn’t bother taking her. Isn’t there a large room upstairs? Let Julia sleep there!” I froze, then cried out, anxious, “Mother, that’s Andy and my bridal suite…” Mrs. Thorne cut me off, displeased. “What’s wrong with the bridal suite?! It’s settled!” I pleaded with my eyes towards Andy. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but ultimately, he agreed. Mrs. Thorne shot me a dismissive look, then joined Mr. Thorne downstairs to rest. I stared blankly towards the master bedroom on the second floor. Andy had carried Julia in a while ago, but he hadn’t reappeared. My heart ached with a bitter pang. I tried to console myself, to believe in Andy. It wasn’t until my vision blurred that I realized I was weeping. Shadows fell, and I found myself encircled by a group of men. “Hey, Clara, why are you crying? Aren’t you happy you’re married?” The man who spoke was Marcus, the one among Andy’s groomsmen who targeted me the most. Simply because Julia disliked me, he took pleasure in tormenting me, eager to curry favor with her. Seeing that Andy was taking an unusually long time to come downstairs, Marcus’s expression soured. With a retaliatory smirk, he filled a glass to the brim and forcefully pressed it to my lips. “As your brother-in-law, I’m toasting you, sister-in-law. You can’t refuse me, can you?” I was shaking with rage. “Don’t you know I’m pregnant?” I asked, my voice trembling. Marcus scoffed, deliberately raising his voice. “So what if you’re pregnant? Besides, who knows whose baby that is in your belly?”
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