Chapter 3

This time it wasn't a private message—it was the wedding planning group chat.

That group included both sets of parents, groomsmen and bridesmaids, the wedding planner, hotel coordinator, and a few close relatives.

Ethan posted in it:

[There was a small misunderstanding at the dress fitting today. Natalie got a bit emotional, but the wedding is still on. Everyone, don't worry.]

I stared at that line for three seconds.

Maya swore out loud. "He's getting ahead of the narrative."

I nodded.

Not surprising.

Ethan had always been best at packaging embarrassing situations as harmless misunderstandings.

He was never afraid of hurting me.

He was afraid of people finding out that ten days before his wedding, he'd given his fiancée's wedding dress to his white moonlight.

Soon, people started responding to smooth things over.

[Couples always get anxious before the wedding. Don't let it hurt your relationship.]

[Ethan, just be patient with her.]

[Natalie's probably just stressed.]

Then there was Ethan's mother's message:

[You're this close to the wedding. Don't give outsiders something to laugh about.]

Almost simultaneously, my mom's private message popped up.

[Nat, don't be afraid. Take care of yourself. Your dad and I are here.]

Looking at those two messages, I suddenly smiled.

So even at a time like this, some people worried about losing face, while others only worried about me getting hurt.

Who cared about appearances and who cared about me—it was crystal clear.

I placed my phone on my lap and took a deep breath.

"Maya."

"Yeah?"

"At the bridal shop—did you record a video?"

Maya froze for a moment, then nodded quickly. "I was originally trying to film you coming out, but I accidentally caught Ethan adjusting Chloe's back clasp. I didn't film long, but that moment's in there."

I held out my hand. "Send it to me."

She immediately transferred the original video.

I opened it. The footage was a bit shaky, but clear enough.

Ethan stood behind Chloe, his fingers on the wedding dress clasp, his movements painfully practiced.

And that dress—the waistline, the hoop skirt, the train—all exactly as I'd confirmed just two days ago.

This wasn't a misunderstanding.

This was evidence.

I dragged the bridal shop payment records, wedding expense spreadsheet, and corresponding transaction records all into one folder.

"He said I was being emotional?" I looked up at Maya.

"Then I'll show everyone whether I'm throwing a tantrum or cutting my losses."

I picked up my phone again and opened the wedding planning group.

[Since Ethan says it's a misunderstanding, let's clear up the misunderstanding.]

The moment I sent the message, the group went silent.

I knew the real second round was just beginning.