At the altar, my groom never showed. In front of hundreds of high-society guests, his mother marched up, ripped off my veil, and drenched my white couture dress in red wine. Smirking into the microphone, she announced, “My son is marrying a wealthy woman I chose. You? Just a temporary stand-in.”

Part 2: The Public Humiliation

The cathedral doors opened.

Relief surged—until I realized it wasn’t Ethan.

It was his mother.

She walked down the aisle like she owned the room, holding a microphone in one hand… and a glass of red wine in the other.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced smoothly, “there won’t be a wedding today.”

Gasps filled the air.

I felt my chest tighten. “Where is Ethan?” I whispered.

She turned to me with cold satisfaction.

“My son is exactly where he should be,” she said loudly. “With a real match. A wealthy, well-bred woman.”

The words hit like a slap.

“You were never the choice,” she continued. “Just… convenient.”

Then she grabbed my veil.

Rip.

The sound echoed through the cathedral.

Before I could react—

Splash.

Cold wine soaked into my dress, spreading like blood across white silk.

Laughter broke out.

Soft at first.

Then louder.

I dropped to my knees, humiliation crushing me from every side.

“Clean up and leave,” she sneered. “You don’t belong here.”