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The Erased Wife's Spectacular Wedding Revenge

Chapter 5 No.5

Word Count: 470    |    Released on: 18/05/2026

ex couldn't crack. It was driving him insane-not because he missed me, but because he cou

ard him on the phone i

wrong with her. She's

o low to hear. Then Alex, sub

, my phone rang. *

rd ring, already know

He hit his head." Her voice was a performance, panic stretched thin over ca

le. "What? Where is

Pacific Heights Med

ught-because foster homes had taught me to document everything, because I'd learned that people with powe

grabbed

A setup to make me look unstable? In my world-the world of wedding planners and seating c

ng this wasn't a visit. It was a performance. And I

alked straight past him into

catered to families who didn't want paperwork. I scanned the quiet corridor and saw her immedi

me, grabbing my hands. Her own were cold

were looking past her, down the cor

as standi

losed hospital room door with an expression of d

her from the

a Ros

ood everything. This wasn't a

ap designed t

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The Erased Wife's Spectacular Wedding Revenge
The Erased Wife's Spectacular Wedding Revenge
“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.”