When My Ex Gets Married and I Get the Bill
My wedding starts at 12:00 pm on the dot.
There are 58 tables, each table costing 8888 dollars.
120 bottles of premium liquor have been opened. 300 packs of top-tier cigarettes are unsealed.
At 2:30 pm, all the guests have left the scene, leaving nothing but a huge mess behind. That's when a server hands me the bill.
"It'll be 510 thousand dollars, miss."
I'm left gobsmacked. "I'm a wedding guest, not the organizer."
The groom is Charlie Humboldt, my ex-boyfriend. At the moment, he takes his pregnant bride, Sasha Fitch, by the hand while sneering at me.
"Since you're here, you might as well foot the bill. Think of it as your way of compensating for my youth."
Charlie's mother, Melissa Carlton, moves to block the door. "If you're not paying the bill, then you can forget about leaving. No one wants you anyway, so you might as well stay here and pay off your debt by working as a dishwasher!"
As I stare at the shameless family, I dig out my phone quietly.
What they don't know is that this five-star hotel is a gift from my dad to me.