Chapter 3: An Unforgettable Wedding Gift

The Grand Ballroom of The Sterling shimmered under the glow of magnificent crystal chandeliers. The scent of lilies and roses filled the air, a luxury that should have been mine tonight.

I stepped inside, letting my high heels click a steady, confident rhythm against the marble floor.

Gwen had indeed performed incredible feats. I wore a sleek, deep black silk dress that hugged my frame perfectly—a color symbolizing mourning for my past and a bold statement for my new self. My hair fell in elegant waves, and my makeup was sharp, making it clear I wasn't here to mourn.

"Rose?"

The voice made me turn. David stood there, wearing the tuxedo I knew so well because I had helped him pick it out weeks ago. David appeared stunned, his gaze scrutinizing every aspect of my appearance.

"You actually came," he said, his voice slightly trembling.

"Of course, David," I replied with a thin smile, the kind that didn't reach my eyes. "I wouldn't want to miss the happiest day of your life."

Sarah appeared beside him, wearing a white wedding dress that looked a bit snug around her midsection. Her face paled when she saw me. "Rose... thank you for coming." Her polite smile was visibly strained.

"You're welcome, Sarah. You two look very... compatible," I said calmly.

I could feel the guests' eyes beginning to focus on us. The majority of them were the same friends I had expected to attend my wedding.

"Rose, I'm glad you're being the bigger person," David whispered, a note of smugness slipping into his tone, as if he was proud of having left me.

I just gave a small laugh. "Don't get too confident, David. I'm here to deliver your wedding gift."

"Gift? You didn't have to—" Sarah tried to interject, but I cut her off.

"Oh, but I prepared something very special. You'll love it. Consider it my appreciation for your honesty," I said before turning and leaving the confused couple behind.

I melted back into the crowd, took a glass of champagne, and positioned myself strategically. My heart pounded, not from fear, but from adrenaline. As a werewolf, my senses suddenly picked up something incredibly strong.

I stiffened. That scent again. My gaze swept across the crowded room, searching for the man from the nightclub. How could he be here? However, the emcee's speech diverted my attention.

"And now, let's witness the beautiful journey of this happy couple through a short video."

The lights dimmed. The giant screen behind the stage lit up.

At first, it showed photos of David and Sarah. But then, abruptly, the image changed. David's voice echoed through the entire room via the speakers.

"Rose, I love you. Will you be my wife?"

On the screen, a recording played of David kneeling to propose to me in a flower garden a year ago. My figure was neatly blurred, but those who knew us recognized me. The shocking part was when the camera slowly panned sideways, revealing Sarah standing in the distance, watching the moment with a face full of hatred.

Murmurs began to ripple through the guests. David and Sarah froze on the stage.

Then, the video cut to footage from a week ago—CCTV footage from my apartment, with the audio enhanced and cleaned up.

"She's pregnant with my child. I want to call off our wedding, Rose." David's cold voice rang out with perfect clarity.

"I'm going to marry Sarah soon, before her belly starts to show."

The screen showed David standing tall and unapologetic, while Sarah stood beside him, looking down and holding her still-flat stomach. Although my face remained blurred, the heartbreak in that scene was palpable throughout the room.

"Turn it off! Turn it off!" David yelled, his voice shrill with humiliation.

His face was crimson. Sarah began to sob, covering her face with her hands.

The guests' whispers grew into a loud buzz, some openly sneering.

"How cruel to steal your friend's fiancé."

"Pregnant already? What a cheap woman."

I stood in the middle of the crowd, raising my champagne glass high toward a frantic David on the stage. He glared at me with eyes full of rage and shame, but I only returned a cold stare and a small, knowing smile.

"Congratulations on your wedding, David and Sarah," I murmured softly, then finished my champagne in one gulp.

I turned to leave the room. My task was complete; I had given them a surprise they would remember for years in their social circles.

However, just as I reached the dimly lit exit, a large, warm hand gently yet possessively caught my arm.

I jolted, coming face-to-face—or rather, face-to-chest—with a powerful, broad torso. I looked up, and there he stood. He was the man with the intoxicating golden eyes.

"A remarkable performance, Rose," he whispered, his voice low and husky, sending an electric jolt through my entire body.

"You... what are you doing here?" I asked, my breath catching.

He didn't answer. Instead, he lowered his head, bringing his face close to my neck, inhaling my scent deeply as if worshipping something there.

"I said we'd meet again, didn't I?" he murmured. His other hand now rested on my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. "And now that you're finished with that trash... can we talk about this incredibly sweet scent of yours?"

I found myself immobile. He knew. He knew I wasn't entirely human.

"Who are you, really?" I whispered, my hands unconsciously gripping his shirt.

“Xavier.”

***