Chapter 3

"Micheal Parkinson, for richer or poorer, will you stay by Becky Porter’s side, never to part?"

The officiant’s voice rang out over the crowd.

Onstage, Alpha Micheal gazed at Becky with a tenderness so nauseating it made my wolf bare her teeth.

"I do not."

The words ripped through the ceremony like a thunderclap.

Gasps filled the air. Every head in the room snapped toward me.

I saw it then—the exact moment realization dawned on Micheal’s face. His smile froze, his fingers twitching against Becky’s hand.

"Where’s security?" Micheal growled, voice low and commanding. "Escort the troublemaker out."

Halbert, standing beside me, handed me the microphone with an amused smirk.

I didn’t even look at Micheal. Instead, I turned up the volume to max and let my voice ring across the hall.

"Everyone, I am Judy Carlson. Tonight’s bride, Judy Carlson."

Chaos erupted.

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd like wildfire. The sharp rustling of guests flipping through their invitations was almost comical.

Micheal’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching so tight it could snap a bone.

"Hey, she’s right! The invitation says the bride is Judy!"

"Then who the hell is the woman onstage?"

"Micheal’s wedding was so rushed, I didn’t even question it. But this…?"

The murmurs grew louder, sharp whispers turning to judgmental glares. Becky’s fake innocence cracked, her wide doe eyes filling with crocodile tears.

Micheal tightened his grip on her hand, his voice low but authoritative.

"Everyone, there was a typo on the invitation." His lips curled into a forced smile. "This is the real bride."

A laugh burst from my throat before I could stop it.

"A typo?" I drawled, arching a brow. "Right. And let me guess—my name embroidered on the wedding dress? Also a typo?"

More gasps. A few guests exchanged pointed looks.

Micheal’s pathetic attempt at damage control had done nothing but pour gasoline on the fire.

"The venue? The photography? The décor? Paid for with my money."

I pulled out my phone and, with a single tap, projected the receipts onto the massive screen behind the altar.

"13.14 million." I smiled, slow and deliberate. "Alpha Micheal, will that be on your credit card or by check?"

Silence.

The air was thick with tension, the scent of unease rolling through the room like a storm cloud.

Micheal’s gaze flickered toward the doors, searching. Probably for security.

"Don’t bother looking." My smirk widened. "The security staff? Paid for by me. They don’t answer to you."

Micheal’s nostrils flared, frustration rolling off him in waves.

And then, because the universe loved giving me more reasons to hate her, Becky decided to play her final card.

"Judy, I know you have issues with me." She sniffled, stepping forward. "It was wrong of me to borrow your wedding, but I have a terminal illness."

She paused for dramatic effect, gauging the crowd’s reaction.

And just like that, a few whispers started up again.

"She’s dying, though…"

"Maybe Micheal was just trying to be kind."

"Is Judy really this heartless?"

Becky lowered her gaze, trembling ever so slightly—but not before I caught the flicker of satisfaction in her eyes.

I felt my wolf bristle beneath my skin, a growl curling low in my throat.

Oh, this little actress wanted a show?

Fine.

I’d give her one.

I swatted Becky’s hand away, my wolf thrumming beneath my skin, urging me to rip through her pathetic act.

"Oh, a terminal illness?" I arched a brow. "What’s the diagnosis? Which hospital declared it?"

Silence.

"Funny how someone on death’s doorstep has enough energy to steal my multimillion-dollar wedding and act like she deserves it."

Becky stumbled back, clutching her chest, her breath turning shallow. Her wide, watery eyes flitted around the room, as if searching for sympathy.

Cue the dramatic coughs.

She hacked so hard that her pale face turned ghostly, as if she might crumple to the floor at any moment.

And, right on cue, Alpha Micheal was there in an instant, shielding her with his broad frame, his scent sharp with irritation.

"Judy." He growled my name like a curse. "You’ve only lost a wedding, but Becky—she’s losing her life."

His voice dripped with righteous fury, like I was the villain here.

"How can you stoop so low as to bicker with someone who’s dying? Where’s your compassion?"

I stared at him.

For a brief moment, I remembered the man I once loved—the one who whispered promises under the moonlight, who swore I was his forever.

Now?

All I saw was a mangy wolf in borrowed fur, pretending to be noble while rolling in the filth of his own betrayal.

I let out a slow breath. I was done.

"Fine," I said, my voice turning cool. "Alpha Micheal, such a selfless lover."

Becky’s shoulders relaxed, thinking she’d won.

I smiled.

"I’ll grant you two my blessing."

A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd, but I wasn’t finished.

"Now, let’s talk about the bill." I pulled up my payment app and flashed the screen. "Over 13 million. What an extravagant funeral gift Alpha Micheal’s giving you."

Becky’s entire face twisted, her delicate facade cracking.

"Are you cursing me?!" she shrieked, her wolf bristling weakly beneath her skin, no match for mine.

"Oh, did I say something wrong?" I feigned innocence. "I must have forgotten to send you a bouquet of white chrysanthemums."

The moment the words left my mouth, Becky lost it.

Her tiny, manicured hands curled into fists, and for a split second, I thought she might lunge at me like an actual Luna—but then she remembered that she was an illness.

Micheal’s jaw ticked.

He let out a sharp breath, then yanked his wallet from his pocket, pulled out a black card, and flung it at my feet.

"Take your money and leave." His voice was cold, final.

"And don’t expect to have this wedding rescheduled."

Oh, how generous of him.

I glanced down at the card, then back up at him.

Our eyes met.

I felt nothing.

Not anger. Not heartbreak. Just a deep, crushing disappointment.

The man I once loved?

He no longer existed.