My Fiancé and His Best Friend Got Drunk-Married Chapter 08

My Fiancé and His Best Friend Got Drunk-Married Chapter 08

Three words. Harrison’s hand froze mid-air.

He looked up, meeting Alexander’s gaze.

For the first time, he saw the man standing beside me, not the quiet, low-profile heir he expected.

But a man with a commanding presence, poised and deliberate.

“Our wedding is taking place now,” Alexander said firmly. “If you are a guest, you are welcome. If you came to congratulate, the ceremony is not yet over; please observe.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the groomsmen behind Harrison, their expressions stiff with awkwardness. “You too.”

Only then did his eyes return to Harrison’s face—drained of all color.

“For anything else… now is simply not the time.”

Not the time.

A simple phrase, yet it pinned Harrison to the role of intruder, irrelevant party.

His breathing hitched. The fury he had suppressed surged anew.

“Emily is my wife!” he barked.

“Emily, tell him! Tell him whose bride you are!”

His gaze locked onto me, betting on a last-minute softening, hoping six years of history could outweigh this absurdity.

The music had stopped without anyone noticing.

All eyes turned toward me. I slowly lifted my lashes.

Through the veil, I looked at the man I had loved for six years, waited for six years, now looking utterly pitiful.

I did not look at Harrison.

I spoke each word deliberately, “Harrison… look closely.”

I turned slightly, showing the gown. “This dress… was not chosen by you.”

I raised my left hand, revealing the diamond ring Alexander had just placed on my ring finger, sparkling in the light.

“This ring… was not given by you either.”

I let my gaze sweep over his ashen face.

“Today… the one standing here, marrying Alexander Wright… is me, Emily Jones.”

I paused, inhaled deeply, and let out the final line, severing every last tie to the past.

“Your wedding… your bride… has never had anything to do with me.”

I no longer looked at him.

I placed my hand firmly in Alexander’s waiting arm.

“Shall we continue, sir?” I asked.

Ethan looked at me deeply, then nodded toward the MC.

The wedding march swelled again, grander and more triumphant than before, drowning out all noise.

With Alexander at my side, we walked steadily down the aisle toward the altar.

Guests spontaneously applauded. The polite smiles of my family were gone.

Their favoritism, their scheming, their fake heiress, they hadn’t expected me to marry not the family they had pined for… But the Wright family, far above their reach, not worth a glance.

And why Alexander could produce a 300-million-dollar for me?

I had my own means. It had nothing to do with their calculations.

Nothing to do with the hollow shell of my family.

All those relatives who would normally attend a wedding in the Jones household, observing, congratulating, were at the other, neighboring Harrison wedding.

Now, their attention was here.

Not out of respect for my family, but because they sensed something worth climbing toward.

Their applause rolled like a tide.

Behind them, silence.

I didn’t need to look back. I could already picture Harrison’s expression.

But it no longer mattered.