Chapter 4

But the next morning, I still went to City Hall.

I just wanted to see, with my own eyes, if he would actually show up.

At 9:15 AM, I saw Brooks’ car pull up across the street.

When the car door opened, my chest loosened. I even subconsciously smoothed down my hair.

Honestly, if he had just walked up to me and said, "Alice, I’m here," I might have swallowed all of last night’s pain and pushed forward.

But then his phone rang. Brooks answered it.

I didn't know what Michelle said on the other end, but his face turned pale.

In the next second, he got right back into the car and drove away.

The sound of the car door shutting was quiet, but it felt like a sledgehammer to my heart.

Ten minutes later, Michelle posted on Instagram.

[I told him I didn't want to be alone, and he actually came back for me.]

The photo showed Brooks holding her hand while she was hooked up to an IV.

At 9:40 AM, Bryant rushed to City Hall.

When he got out of his car, his face was lined with exhaustion, looking like he hadn’t slept.

"Stop waiting, Alice. Brooks isn't coming today."

I stared at him. "I saw him."

Bryant was stunned.

He opened his mouth, but in the end, he only said, "Michelle’s allergy flared up again last night. She can't handle any stress right now."

I asked quietly, "But I can?"

He frowned. "Alice, stop asking things like that."

He stepped closer, his voice taking on a coaxing tone.

"You're the one getting the wedding, the title, and the name Mrs. Brooks."

"What does Michelle have? She only has us as her friends."

I packed up my ID, turned, and walked away.

Bryant grabbed my arm. "Where are you going?"

"The wedding planning company."

He let out a sigh of relief. "To finalize the schedule?"

"Yeah," I murmured.

His face softened. "Good. Don't ruin the big day. If you make a scene, you're the one who will look bad."

At the wedding planner’s office, the coordinator looked incredibly uncomfortable.

She pushed her tablet toward me to show me the screen.

On the screen was a giant photo of Brooks standing in the middle, with me on his left and Michelle on his right.

The photo was taken at Michelle’s birthday party last year.

She was wearing a white dress, holding Brooks’ arm, looking like the real bride.

I was standing off to the side, still holding the knife we used to cut her cake.

The welcome sign had been changed too: [Thank you for witnessing our ten years together.]

But why did "our ten years" have to include Michelle?

I scrolled through the itinerary. Everything had been modified.

In our wedding vows, there was even a paragraph dedicated to thanking Michelle.

I looked at the coordinator. "Who approved this?"

The coordinator said timidly, "Mr. Brooks did."

Seeing my face turn pale, Bryant immediately spoke up.

"It’s just the welcome area, not the main stage."

"Michelle never had a real family. She just wanted to feel included."

I looked at him. "It’s my wedding. Why does she need to feel included?"

Bryant’s voice grew heavy. "Alice, don’t be so petty."

Just then, Brooks called my phone.

The moment I picked up, he asked, "Did you see the new itinerary?"

"I did."

"Michelle cried all night, saying she felt like an outsider. I had them add a few photos."

I asked, "Do you think that’s appropriate?"

"What's wrong with it?" he snapped, his voice filled with impatience.

"She’s your maid of honor, and she’s our mutual friend. You’re marrying me tomorrow, Alice, not a digital screen."

I kept scrolling. When I reached the jewelry confirmation page, my fingers froze.

The note read:

[Pearl earrings to be worn by Miss Michelle for the wedding promo video shoot.]

Those pearl earrings were a family heirloom left to me by my mother.

Before she passed away, she told me she wanted me to wear them on my wedding day. It was my "Something Old."

I asked, "Why is Michelle wearing my mother's earrings?"

Brooks was silent for a moment. "She's just modeling them for the promo..."

I cut him off. "Those belong to my mother."

"I know."

I let out a bitter laugh. "You know, and you still let her wear them?"

Over the phone, Michelle started crying softly.

"Brooks, forget it. I won't wear them. I don't want to make Alice mad..."

Brooks’ voice softened instantly as he comforted her. "Don't say that."

When he spoke to me again, his voice was like ice.

"Alice, Michelle was just trying to help you test them out. Do you have to be so harsh?"

I said, "Get them back. Now."

Brooks didn't reply.

Standing next to me, Bryant suddenly spoke up.

"Alice, if your mother were still here, she wouldn't pick a fight with a young girl over this."

I whipped my head around to look at him. The conference room went dead silent.

Bryant flinched under my gaze, but he kept pushing.

"Am I wrong? Your mother would have wanted you to be the bigger person."

"If she saw you making such a massive scene over a pair of earrings, she wouldn't be happy either."

Slap!

I slapped him across the face.

On the other end of the line, Brooks roared, "Alice! Did you just put your hands on him?!"

Bryant stumbled back, his hand on his cheek, his eyes wide with utter shock.

"Alice... I don't even recognize you anymore!"

I didn't answer him. I grabbed my bag and walked out.

Behind me, Brooks' voice came through the phone: "If you walk out now, don't expect me home tonight."

I paused for a fraction of a second. "Whatever."