My Fiancé and His Best Friend Got Drunk-Married Chapter 07

My Fiancé and His Best Friend Got Drunk-Married Chapter 07

Another voice chimed in, eyes scanning the neighboring ballroom, lavishly decorated, filled with guests, yet completely unfamiliar.

“Not bad, huh? Did you get bored with our setup and come here to do a personal inspection?”

Chloe quick-stepped to my side, her tone deliberately light and intimate.

“Wow… you almost gave Harrison a heart attack.”

She laughed, letting her gaze linger on my gown. “This one’s pretty too, but remember, you’re not here to attend someone else’s wedding. Come back with us; everyone’s waiting.”

I didn’t move.

She leaned closer, smiling softly. “Even though legally… you’re the other woman; don’t take it to heart. We both know the truth.”

She winked. “Congratulations on your… marriage.”

I glanced at her, the corner of my mouth curling. “Thanks.”

Her smile froze. She hadn’t expected that response.

Harrison strode up to me.

His eyes held reprimand, exasperation… but above all, the unmistakable dominance of a man who knows: she’ll throw a tantrum, but eventually, she’ll come back.

“Done with the phone calls? Let’s go. We’ve lost time, but there’s still a chance.”

He paused, then added, as if to show his generosity, “If you really like this setup…” His gaze swept the room.

“I can negotiate with the Wright family. We could switch it. Whatever makes you happy.”

He said it so casually, so naturally.

As if my appearance here, in another gown, was just a childish act of rebellion.

And he, the perfect husband, had come to fetch his wayward fiancée.

His groomsmen and bridesmaids watched me expectantly.

Expecting that, after one last little protest, I would obediently, gratefully return.

Return to the wedding that was his—my role as Mrs. Harrison set in stone.

Harrison held out his hand, palm up. I looked at his handsome face, edged with impatience.

In all those gazes, overt and subtle, I turned slightly toward the silent hotel butler beside me.

“Excuse me, could the MC please prepare to begin?” I said softly.

“Yes, Mrs. Wright,” the butler replied, bowing slightly. “Mr. Wright’s side is ready.”

Mrs. Wright?

The words cracked the certainty on Harrison’s face. His outstretched hand froze mid-air.

The snickers and whispers at the doorway died abruptly.

I lifted my gaze, meeting the beginning of the collapse in his expression.

“Mr. Ford,” I used a title we had never used before, calm and even, “I think you’ve misunderstood.”

“Today… it’s my wedding. But the groom… is not you.”

“Emily, don’t do this…” His mind buzzed. He refused to process the evidence assembling itself.

The Jones family wedding, the bride named Wright… all impossible, all a mistake, all some tantrum played out for him.

He clung to one truth: Emily was his.

She had been. She was. She must walk down the aisle for him.

His fingers nearly brushed my wrist.

“Mr. Ford.” A calm voice cut through, halting his movement.

Alexander Wright stepped forward, positioning himself just a half-step in front of me.

“Mind your manners.”