Jilted Bride: Marrying My Ex's Rival

Chapter 8

Word Count: 746 | Released on: 15/06/2026

p on Isolde's iPad at mid

as a single vanilla cupcake she had bought from the bodega o

s silent. Arland

first post on her feed was f

Emilie Blackburn dazzle a

mpagne flute. Emilie was clinging to his arm, w

t the dress. It

yle Arland's sister, Cordie,

stress; she was playing the ghost. She was dressing like the dead sister

e. "Happy birthday t

the darkness. She ate the cupcake mechan

and stormed into the

e had clearly just c

called out. "

drinking coffee. She was

Arland said, breathless. "The camp

lgia could fix a missed birthday. He thought a walk do

y," Isol

hed the sleeve of her silk pajamas, a tentative, almost questioning touch, before he pulled back as if burned. He se

at his side. Then she looked at his face. He looked

he said.

covered in autumn leaves.

land was trying too hard, pointing out buildings,

stone bench ne

"We studied here. You used to wa

remembered waiting for hours in the cold because he ha

ys late," she said, her v

altered. "I'm trying to ch

ince you want to make things right," Isolde said, sliding the document across the stone table, "sign th

d at the legal jargon before signing his name with his expensive fountain

opped to a whisper. "You know the promise I made. When Cordie

calmly. "Emilie is alive. And she is man

His eyes went cold. "Don't speak a

y," Isolde said. "You'

red. The nostal

hone

screen. The caller ID

ce going pale. "Heart palp

e looked at him as if he were already a ghost. "Go make sure she doesn't drop dead. I'm

Chapter End

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Jilted Bride: Marrying My Ex's Rival

Wu Li Modern

“I sat alone on a hard wooden bench in the City Clerk's Office, smoothing the white silk of my wedding dress. It was 10:00 AM, the exact moment I was supposed to marry Arland Rhodes. But Arland never showed up. Instead, a breaking news alert flashed on my phone, showing a high-resolution photo of my fiancé at the airport, tenderly cradling his "first love," Emilie Blackburn, in his arms. Seven years of my life were erased in a single paparazzi shot. When I finally saw him, he didn't apologize; he just said Emilie had a panic attack and needed him. My own mother called me a humiliation to the family reputation, and Arland's assistant tried to buy my silence with a pink diamond necklace. That night, Arland moved Emilie into our penthouse, telling me to be "reasonable" because she had security issues. "It's just logistics, Isolde. Don't make this into something it isn't." He thought I was the perfect, drama-free partner who would wait forever. He didn't notice when I began systematically dismantling our life, replacing my priceless antiques with cheap replicas and liquidating my shares in his company. He was too busy playing hero to a woman who faked heart palpitations every time he looked at me. He truly believed he could fix a lifetime of neglect with a "do-over" date and a silver convertible he had actually ordered for her. I realized then that Arland didn't love me; he loved that I was convenient. I had spent seven years building a life on a foundation of sand, and I was done being the silent, understanding fiancée. On the morning he finally showed up at City Hall to "make it up to me," I was nowhere to be found. I had already coerced fifteen million dollars out of him as a "security fee" and signed a marriage contract with his most ruthless rival, Esequiel Stone. As Arland stood at the altar waiting for a bride who would never come, I was boarding a private jet to the Capital. The hunt had officially begun, and this time, I wasn't the prey.”