Chapter 2

Lucille's POV

Alexander's grip tightened around my wrist.

Just then, Casey's voice came from outside the door. "Al, come out. Your dad's table is full of relatives waiting for you to make the rounds."

He didn't move.

Casey pushed the door open and walked in. The veil, still streaked with dirt, was crooked on her head. When she saw me, she pulled it off and tossed it onto the vanity.

"Come on, Lucille. That's enough. There are more than 200 guests out there. Al can't leave all his friends and family hanging just to keep you happy."

Alexander's voice dropped. "Leave us alone."

She clicked her tongue. "Fine. I won't get involved in your fight."

As she reached the door, she turned back to me. "But there's something I should warn you about. Al hates it when people threaten him with a breakup or a divorce.

"Back in high school, his mom tried to force him to transfer schools. He dumped his suitcase at my place and shared my bed for six months without going home.

"This man responds to persuasion, not pressure. The harder you push, the less likely he is to back down."

Alexander frowned. "Are you done?"

Casey laughed and shrugged. As she turned to leave, she picked up the veil lying on the vanity. "Oh, right. Did this really belong to your mom? No wonder it's so flimsy. One step, and it was ruined."

I stared at the veil in her hand, my voice turning icy. "Put it down."

She froze for a second before laughing. "Okay, okay. I won't touch it. Still, when your mom was in the hospital, you kept him up every night. I was the one drinking with him until the early hours.

"The night your mom died, he fell asleep in my car. I was the one who answered your messages for him."

My fingertips went cold.

The night Mom died, I called Alexander 17 times. He didn't answer a single one. The next day, he simply told me he had been tied up at a business dinner the night before.

Alexander looked away. "I'll explain everything later."

He let go of me and followed Casey out. Before closing the door, he left me a single instruction. "Wait for me at home."

This time, I wasn't planning to do that. I slowly folded my veil and left the hotel alone.

Not long after I returned to our marital home, videos began popping up one after another in the wedding group chat. The reception was still ongoing.

Ethan and Mildred stood onstage, smiling apologetically as they told everyone I had been under too much pressure before the wedding and asked them not to take it personally.

Casey, on the other hand, stood beside Alexander with a bottle of whiskey.

When someone asked why she was still there when the bride had already left, she planted one foot on a chair, slapped Alexander on the shoulder, and laughed.

"My boy got embarrassed today. Of course, Daddy's got to stay and have his back!"

She took drink after drink for Alexander, shielding him from one table after another. By the end of the night, she had taken my seat.

Alexander merely nudged her shoe with his foot. "Get off."

Casey didn't budge. She picked up my glass and clinked it against his. "I'll sit here for a minute. Don't be so petty."

He didn't tell her to move again.

When it was time to cut the cake, the emcee stared at the empty spot beside Alexander, unsure how to continue.

Casey rolled up her sleeves and headed straight for the stage. She reached around Alexander from behind and took hold of his hand. Together, they cut the cake.

He leaned down and told her not to cut it crooked, but she deliberately scooped up a handful of frosting and smeared it all over his face.

He froze, then grabbed her wrist and smeared the rest of the frosting right back on her.

They chased each other around the cake, laughing and fooling around. She was laughing so hard that she could barely stand and eventually stumbled straight into his arms.

Alexander instinctively caught her by the waist and muttered, "You're in your twenties and still can't walk properly."

On camera, even Ethan and Mildred were laughing.

The wedding I had spent eight months planning went on without me, as lively as if nothing had ever happened.

30 minutes later, Casey posted a photo on social media. The caption read, "Bride went on strike. Her best man stepped in to save the day."

Our mutual friends flooded the comments.

"Congrats, Casey, on marrying off your son."

"You two have better chemistry than the actual newlyweds."

"Honestly, it made no difference that the wedding went on without the bride."

Alexander didn't clarify anything. Beneath the post, he simply wrote, "Lucille's just throwing a tantrum. Stop spreading nonsense."

Just then, an email arrived with the research center's final offer. The program abroad was three years long, with a permanent position waiting for me afterward.

A month ago, I had turned it down for Alexander. This time, I accepted it.

Then I called my lawyer. "Draft a divorce agreement. I don't want anything from our marital assets. Just get it done as soon as possible."