My Fiancé Sided With His Mischievous Childhood Friend, Until My Mother‑In‑Law Burst In Chapter 09

My Fiancé Sided With His Mischievous Childhood Friend, Until My Mother‑In‑Law Burst In Chapter 09

Three months later, my hair had grown into a soft layer of stubble, like the first grass of spring.

I didn’t attend Chloe’s public apology. Victoria went in my place.

She said seeing Chloe’s face might make me sick.

In the video, Chloe wore plain clothes and looked exhausted as she read from a prepared statement.

“I admit that after Lily Carter fell asleep under prescribed medication, I shaved her hair without

consent. I filmed her and brought others in to watch and ridicule her, causing her physical and

emotional harm…”

Halfway through, she began to cry.

Victoria sat opposite her and said coolly, “Continue.”

Chloe clenched her jaw and finished reading.

Few people in the comments felt sorry for her. Victoria’s legal team had already laid out the facts

too clearly.

Crying because the consequences hurt didn’t make cruelty innocent.

Ethan had changed considerably during those three months.

He no longer made me guess where he stood. Any message about Chloe went straight to the attorneys, and every request for leniency received an immediate refusal.

One older Ashford relative said, “She’s a young woman. There was no need to take it this far.”

Ethan answered in front of everyone, “You’re generous because it wasn’t your head she shaved.”

The relative was so furious that he left dinner without finishing his meal.

When Victoria heard about it, she nodded in satisfaction. “About time he grew a spine.”

My relationship with Ethan slowly began to thaw.

It wasn’t because his apology was pitiful enough. It was because he had finally learned what love

meant.

Love wasn’t compensation after the damage was done.

Love was stepping between me and the harm the moment it began.

We never rescheduled the lavish wedding. I couldn’t bear the thought of standing in front of

hundreds of people and smiling again.

Six months later, when my hair had grown below my ears, Ethan asked, “Do you still want to wear

your mother’s tiara?”

I looked at the pearls resting in the jewelry box and stayed silent for a long time.

“Yes.”

So we held a small ceremony on the beach with only the people closest to us.

There were no bridesmaids, no opening video, and no childhood friend trying to run the show,

I wore a simple white dress with my short hair tucked behind my ears.

The hairstylist secured my mother’s pearl tiara with delicate silver wire. The tiara sat securely in

place. Its gentle weight felt like my mother’s hand resting on my head once more..

My father took my hand and placed it in Ethan’s. His eyes were red.

“Take good care of her this time.”

Ethan nodded solemnly. “I will.”

Victoria sat in the front row in a pale blue dress, her expression pulled tight.

As I approached, she suddenly took a tissue from her purse. It wasn’t for me. It was for her.

She dabbed the corner of her eye and muttered, “The wind is too strong.”

Richard smiled beside her. “It certainly is.”

She immediately glared at him. “What are you smiling at?”

Richard smothered the smile and murmured, “Nothing. Victoria, you’re the gorgeous.”

Her ears turned red.

After the ceremony, the photographer gathered everyone for a picture.

Victoria tried to stand at the edge, but I pulled her to my side.

She stiffened. “I’m not photogenic.”

Richard exposed her at once. “When she was a young trial attorney, she complained that the television cameras never captured how intimidating she looked.”

Victoria stepped on his foot.

Richard sucked in a breath, and I burst out laughing.

When the photographer pressed the shutter, the sea breeze lifted my veil.

Ethan held my hand. My father stood on my left, and Victoria stood on my right, the corner of her mouth curved upward even as she tried to look stern.

I later placed that photograph beside my bed.

Every time I saw it, I remembered the door Victoria had kicked open on the eve of my wedding.

I remembered the laughter stopping all at once. I remembered her charging into the room in her

black coat like a living flame.

Everyone else had told me to endure it.

Put on a wig. Cover the injuries. Don’t embarrass the families.

Victoria alone had told me I didn’t have to hide.

The person who had been hurt shouldn’t have to swallow it with a smile. The shame belonged to the person who caused the harm.

I touched my short hair, perfectly calm.

Hair grew back. Wounds healed.

But some things stayed with me forever.

I would never forget how those people had turned my pain into a joke.

And I would never forget that, at my lowest, the person had stormed in and thrown every cruel laugh back in their faces.

People said Victoria was crazy.

I knew better.

The real insanity belonged to the people who called malice a joke, dismissed harm as nothing, and demanded that the victim smile and forgive.

Real family stood in front of you when the rest of the world told you to back down. Real family

looked them all in the eye and said: “She doesn’t have to endure it. Because she has us.”