She Forgave the Crush Who Ruined Her Mom, I Divorced Chapter 04

She Forgave the Crush Who Ruined Her Mom, I Divorced Chapter 04 The Wedding Trap I Built For Them

kept scrolling through the chat log, and my blood ran cold when I spotted the creation date of this burner account-it was activated the exact night we exchanged wedding vows.

That whole wedding night, Sloane had shut me down cold, claiming she was swamped with corporate paperwork to sort out.

The truth was plain as day; she’d holed up in a fancy hotel suite with Zach the entire night, wrapped up in each other.

I laughed until tears streaked my cheeks, then wiped them dry and dialed my lifelong childhood best friend.

“Wanna meet up for drinks?”

No sense letting the restaurant reservation I’d locked in go to waste, after all.

I met Bianca at the bistro. We’d grown up side by side, no words needed to read each other’s moods, so she cut straight to the point the second I sat down.

“Got your heart ripped out by someone, huh?”

I huffed out a bitter, hollow laugh.

“Yep. My own wife snuck off to a hotel with her childhood soulmate. They’re probably fucking each other’s brains out right this second.”

Bianca lifted one sharp, skeptical eyebrow.

“When the hell did your standards drop this low? How could you fall for someone as brainless as Sloane?”

“Her own mother got murdered by that bastard, and she doesn’t hold a single grudge. He’s spent years torturing you, and she never lifts a finger to stop it-why the hell did you ever care about her?”

I slowly shook my head, my tone flat and devoid of feeling.

“I’ve already had full divorce paperwork drafted and finalized.”

Even Bianca, who’d been living overseas all those years, knew every terrible thing Zach put me through. How could the woman I shared a bed with every single night stay completely oblivious?

Time and time again, Zach’s reckless acts nearly got me killed. If Bianca hadn’t rushed to dial emergency services each time I was left bleeding and injured, I’d be six feet under long ago.

A familiar pair of voices drifted over from the far side of the dining room, freezing me mid-sentence.

Zach’s whiny, petulant tone carried clear as day:

“We shouldn’t sneak out alone like this anymore. Your husband’ll get the wrong idea and flip his shit.”

His eyes were glistening red, feigning hurt.

“Let’s write that wedding night drunken hookup off as a stupid mistake, yeah? We can just go back to being bitter rivals like we used to.”

I’dnown about their hotel tryst from the very start, yet hearing him say it out loud still twisted a sharp. aching knot deep in my chest.

Then Sloane’s soft, dismissive voice floated over next.

“I don’t hold any resentment toward you at all. Mom always treated you like garbage back then, so she had j coming when you killed her.”

“As far as Elias goes? I never loved him one bit. I only married him to pay back the debt of him saving my life once.”

A smug grin stretched across Zach’s face.

“Then you owe me a full, proper wedding to make up for everything you put me through,”

My back was turned fully toward their table, so I had no way to see if she nodded in agreement. Seconds later, my phone buzzed nonstop-one text from Sloane, paired with hundreds of wedding gown reference photos attached.

“A friend of mine’s getting hitched soon. You run wedding planning for a living, so pick out a nice bridal gown for him to check out.”

I scrolled through every shot, picking the exact dress I’d always adored, the same one Sloane hated with every fiber of her being.

Her reply pinged back instantly.

“Hubby, you’ve got such amazing taste! My friend absolutely fell in love with this one.”

Right as her message popped up, a notification lit up my work team chat.

Boss:

“There’s a massive wedding booked for this weekend at our venue chapel. The bride’s requesting a veteran lead planner. Who’s taking the gig?”

I tapped the screen without hesitation to type my reply.

“I’ll handle it.”

The following days, Sloane came home later and later each night. The pair paraded around like newlyweds, posting sappy couple snapshots to their social feeds every other hour.

Zach dropped an obvious, taunting social feed post:

“All it takes is a single word from me, and that nobody husband of hers has zero place in her life.”

He never named me outright, but anyone following their circle knew exactly who he was mocking. I didn’t spare their posts a single glance, quietly ironing out every detail of the wedding I’d agreed to organize-my wife’s secret wedding to her lover.

Only once all the arrangements were locked in did Sloane approach me, her features twisted with fake guilt.

Sorry I’ve been MIA so much, Elias. The company dumped a last-minute corporate crisis on my plate.”

She leaned forward, aiming to press her lips to mine, but I twisted my head sharply to dodge the advance.

For the very first time, genuine unease bubbled up inside Sloane’s chest.

“Baby, I promise I’ll clear my whole schedule to spend time with you next week!”

I gave a shallow, empty nod, and she brushed the panic gnawing at her heart aside before heading out the door and climbing straight into Zach’s waiting car.

Sunday rolled around, and Bianca and I drove over to the chapel venue after checking the auspicious wedding hour marked on the calendar. I controlled every segment of the ceremony remotely via my tablet.

1

Alongside booking the venue, I’d sent formal invites to every single person in Sloane’s life: all her relatives. close friends, business clients, and every employee under her management.

When Zach and Sloane walked in hand-in-hand as the supposed bride and groom, they froze dead in their tracks, shocked to see the chapel crammed wall-to-wall with unfamiliar faces. For a split second, they thought they’d wandered into the wrong ceremony entirely.

Sloane’s best friend stepped forward, her face contorted with disgust and anger.

“If you two weirdos wanna rubberneck for drama, go loiter around a cemetery instead! What the hell are you crashing their wedding for? Get lost right now!”

Her rant died mid-sentence when she caught sight of Sloane’s face draining of all color as she huddled tight in Zach’s arms.

I pushed through the thick crowd, holding the framed portrait of Sloane’s late mother high in my hands. and stepped into the center aisle. I pressed the button on the remote control, and the projector screen flickered to life, rolling footage and evidence I’d compiled.

Sloane’s perfectly styled, made-up features shattered completely, her voice shrill and panicked.

“What the hell is this?!”