My Fiancé Confessed His Betrayal Chapter 08

My Fiancé Confessed His Betrayal Chapter 08 The Killer’s Wedding

Late into the night, Garrett sat in his office, the ashtray beside him overflowing with cigarette butts.

When Shane walked in, Garrett parted his lips to speak, but no words came out.

Shane placed a stack of medical records on the desk and hit play on a recording.

Garrett’s face paled inch by inch.

He bolted upright, knocking his office chair backward onto the floor.

Bracing his hands against the desk, he lowered his head, his shoulders heaving violently.

After an agonizing silence, he lifted his eyes, bloodshot and filled with anguish.

“I helped her. The entire time, I was helping her!

“I helped shield her, I helped accuse Liz, I helped validate every single one of her lies…”

Shane stood across from him in stoic silence.

“Captain Vance was my mentor,” Garrett choked out, his voice breaking.

“He taught me how to shoot, how to be a real cop. When he lay dying in that ICU bed, I promised him I’d protect Liz with my life. But what did I do?! I defended the viper who murdered him! I told Liz to stop giving her a hard time!”

Raising his hand, he struck himself across the face with a loud slap.

Then a second time. A third time.

Shane grabbed his wrist. “Stop it.”

“It’s not enough!” Tears streamed down Garrett’s face.

He slowly collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

The following morning, Garrett tendered his resignation.

Leaving his badge and police credentials on the desk, he walked out without looking back once.

He moved straight into Shane’s apartment.

Together, the two men made daily calls to top plastic surgeons, obsessively reviewing facial

reconstruction blueprints, rejecting version after version.

Until one day, I saw a photograph taken during a recovery phase.

Bandages wrapped tightly around the face, leaving only the eyes visible.

Yet the subtle curve of those eyelids, the structure of the brow bone, the taper of the jawline…

It was my face.

They had forcibly reconstructed Wynne’s face into mine.

A month later, wedding invitations were distributed to the elite circle.

“Mr. Shane Sterling and Ms. Elizabeth Vance…”

Elizabeth Vance. My name was printed on every single invitation.

Not Wynne’s.

On the wedding day, torrential rain poured from the heavens.

A crimson carpet stretched from the grand doors straight to the altar.

The heavy doors swung open.

Wynne stepped inside wearing a bridal gown.

Except the face on her head no longer belonged to her.

Shane stood at the far end of the carpet, clad in a crisp black tuxedo with a solitary white flower pinned to his lapel.

His expression was dead calm, a faint, chilling smile on his lips.

“Walk over here,” he said smoothly.

Wynne took her first step, but the moment her heel touched the carpet, her knees buckled, and she crashed onto the floor.

“Crawl on your knees.”

Shane didn’t raise his voice, yet his words reverberated across the entire hall.

“Beg Captain Vance for forgiveness. Beg Liz for forgiveness. And beg the baby who never got to be born for forgiveness.”

Wynne’s face turned ghostly white.

Kneeling on the carpet, she dragged herself forward inch by inch.

An eerie, suffocating silence gripped the ballroom.

She finally reached Shane’s feet.

Shane looked down at her, lifted the microphone, and spoke to the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride at today’s wedding is a murderer.”

Behind him, massive LED screens flickered to life, broadcasting evidence. The audio clip of Wynne whispering in my ear, the medical reports proving her fake panic attacks, and the hospital logs detailing how she killed my father–every filthy crime was dragged into the open light.

Garrett stood off to the side, his hand trembling over the control console, eyes red.

Wynne slumped onto the floor, her composure shattering completely.

Flocks of reporters rushed forward, camera shutters clicking like a relentless downpour.

Then, a manic laugh burst from her throat.

She lifted her head, glaring straight at Shane.

“Shane Sterling, do you really think your hands are clean?!”

Shane’s expression didn’t flicker.

“How did Liz Vance die?!”

Wynne pushed herself up, her crumpled gown dragged across the floor as she advanced on him step by step.

“Who stood upstairs listening while the mob attacked her and did nothing?! Who said, “They’re just kids fooling around“?!”

She leaned in, her voice dripping with venom.

“You did. You killed her!

“Do you honestly think this grotesque show will wash the blood off your hands?!

“You and I are the exact same monster!”