The Erased Wife's Spectacular Wedding Revenge

Chapter 4 No.4

Word Count: 682 | Released on: 18/05/2026

Cont

n, the engagement photo in its silver frame-and saw it all for what it was. A set. A bac

for the bar. "I need a drink." He didn't loo

he master bedroom. His bedroom. I'd deco

onvenient kind of emergency that got him out of the house before I woke up. He tri

or clicked,

m type it a hundred times-a six-digit string that had become a reflex. I'd pieced it together from the rhythm of his fingers on the keyboard: the year hi

ng. My breath caught. A charge for five thousand dollars.

views. A place you took a lover, not a place you went with your groomsme

for his phone number. A single number appeared over and over again, always l

e's contacts. I opened WhatsApp. Th

oman from the tex

desperate hope that I'd misunderstood-

his phone went mysteriously silent. I'd attributed it to the demands of being a Moretti he

nning the call l

mother's private li

. Twenty minutes. Caterina

Then the pieces locked together

ossetti princess for a Moretti prince-the alliance that made sense. An

heir daughter, or the family loses their most valuable relationship. Alex had defied them to choose me. I'd thought tha

ze. Disposable. M

as a family cleaning house. And in the

eplaced it was colder, sharpe

nly I could access. Then I stood at the window an

rriage was dead. The woman standing

Chapter End

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“My wedding was perfect. Every rose. Every note of music. Every lie. I married Alessandro Moretti believing I was the heroine of a love story. The heir to the most feared family on the West Coast had chosen me-a wedding planner from nowhere-over duty, over blood, over the Rossetti princess his mother had already picked for him. I thought that meant he loved me. I was wrong. The text came through on our wedding night. From her. Gianna Rossetti. "Now that the wedding's over, when do I finally get you to myself?" Three days later, Alex looked me in the eye from a hospital bed and asked, "I'm sorry... who are you?" Fake amnesia. A staged accident. His mother, his mistress, and the family doctor-all in on it. They wanted me to walk away quietly. What I didn't know then was that walking away quietly was the kindest option on the table. The other one involved a car accident on a winding road and a funeral no one would question. Then Don Moretti's man handed me an envelope of cash on the sidewalk outside the apartment I no longer had a key to. "Start over somewhere comfortable," he said. "Far from San Francisco." I took the money. I didn't leave. I'm going to plan their wedding now. Gianna and Alex. The princess and the heir. And when I'm done, every chandelier, every centerpiece, every last napkin will be a monument to the worst mistake the Moretti family ever made. They thought they were giving me an exit. I'm building them a cage.”