In the mirror, the words "Used Stud" were plastered across my face in bold letters.The crowd around me jeered."Look at that, a used stud. Fits him perfectly.""I heard he's a 30-year-old virgin. Total freak.""Seriously, the nerve of this guy to even throw a wedding. Talk about shamelessness."Just then, the door swung open, and my fiancee, Ariel Booker, walked in in her wedding dress.My friend, Patrick Morris, sauntered over with a smirk. "Ms. Booker, your dress is a bit messed up."With that, he reached out under the guise of fixing her tube top and slid his hand inside for a quick grope.In my last life, seeing this had made my blood boil. I had rushed over and punched him in the face.But Ariel had immediately grabbed a bottle of red wine from the table, smashed it over my head, and screamed at me, "Caleb Newman! Mr. Morris came all this way to do your makeup for free! He was just trying to break the ice. How could you be so petty and just hit him? Apologize to Mr. Morr
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