Novel & Cerita Pamela Tick Wedding

When Miles Morretti abandons Lila at the altar for the third time—choosing his manipulative stepsister Valeria over her yet again—Lila makes the most impulsive decision of her life. She calls Alexander Calvert, her childhood best friend, and asks him to be her groom. Ten minutes later, she's married to the right man. For three years, Lila poured her heart into Miles and her talent into his company, only to watch Valeria steal credit for every success while Miles remained blind to the truth. But walking away from Miles means walking away from the empire she built—and watching it crumble without her. As Lila's new marriage blossoms into genuine love, Miles finally realizes what he's lost. His company is failing, Valeria's lies are exposed, and the woman he took for granted is thriving without him. But some mistakes can't be undone, and some chances don't come twice. A story of betrayal, empowerment, and discovering that the love you've been searching for might have been right beside you all along.

In a country where people view being single as a sin. Some would even conclude that you have been married to the devil by your parents, others would say you have a spirit husband a d that was the reason no one was coming for you. To worsen it, you chose a profession that perpetually puts you on the limelight, people call for you, they have seen your work and they want to have you as their photographer. Such was the case for Rebecca, she was young beautiful but she feels so alone since all her mates were married, she was still single and to worsen it no one was seeing her, it felt more like she was invisible, people would always tell her she was beautiful but they never went further even when she would be the one to quickly show her interest. She wanted so much to be loved and feel loved, she wanted to know what it felt like to be inlove. She looked pretty young but she wasn't really that young which was why her mother would want her to go to church with her every now and then, she wished she was not in the same state with her mother because even if she runs away from her mother, she always finds a way to get her back. But the story changed for Rebel when she was contracted to handle Charles' wedding, her job was going just as perfect, she was doing exactly what she used to do, she was giving her best to the work. She showed them a sample of how the work would look like, but she couldn't concentrate, whenever Charles was close to her, even if he was with Sandra, she just couldn't concentrate, she was inlove with her client.

Every woman who marries into the Ardhana family dies on her wedding night. Alika, a quiet orphan with no memory of her past, is suddenly chosen to marry Damar Ardhana—the cold heir of a powerful bloodline surrounded by rumors, fear, and unanswered deaths. The town calls it a curse. Seven brides. Seven deaths. Always on the first night. No one survives the Ardhana wedding. Alika never believed in curses… until she wakes up inside an ancient mansion hidden in mist, standing at the altar beside a man who refuses to look at her as if she truly exists. That night, the house begins to whisper her name. Mirrors show a bride who is not her. And fragments of memories begin to surface—memories that should not belong to her. But the mansion hides more than a curse. Lazriel appears—a mysterious man who knows too much about the Ardhana bloodline and the buried Blackwell curse beneath it. He feels like a stranger, yet something inside Alika reacts as if he has always been part of her fate. And then there is Ethan. The man who protects her when the mansion turns hostile. The man who looks at her like he has lost her once before… and refuses to lose her again. Alika is trapped between three truths: a cursed husband, a man who knows her forgotten past, and a man who feels like a memory she was never meant to forget. But the deeper she searches, the more she realizes the truth—the mansion is not just cursed. It is a system. A cycle of death, memory, and reset. And Alika is not just another bride. She is the key. Because the Blackwell curse does not kill randomly. It resets everything. And this time… something inside the system is starting to remember her.

My fiancé was sleeping with my maid of honor. I caught them the night before our wedding. I didn't make a sound. I closed the door, walked back to my bridal suite, and sat at the vanity until my hands stopped shaking. Then I grabbed my keys. At two in the morning I drove forty blocks across Manhattan and knocked on Atlas Marchetti's door. Two years ago I'd told my family I wouldn't marry him. He hadn't said a word about it since. He opened the door in pajama pants. "Marry me tomorrow," I said. He didn't say yes. He poured himself a drink first, listened to everything, and then handed me a piece of paper with terms I should have read more carefully. I signed at dawn. Six hours later I walked down the aisle Carter and I had planned. The Plaza ballroom. The dress I'd chosen in spring. Three hundred guests who came to watch me marry the wrong man. I married someone else instead. Carter watched it happen. He didn't understand yet what he'd lost, and he wouldn't understand for months. Not until he found out who owned the company he ran, and how long Atlas had been bleeding it. I went to Atlas for revenge. He'd been writing this for two years.

My secretary replaced me on my wedding day, walking down the aisle in a white wedding gown. The man I had loved for ten years threw the bridesmaid dress in my face and ordered me to wear it instead. "She is the bride now. You'll be next," he said coldly. My grandmother was so furious that she fell ill on the spot. Meanwhile, he and the secretary smiled brightly as they completed the wedding ceremony. After the grand wedding, the secretary posted photos of herself in her wedding gown on social media. The comments were overwhelmingly congratulatory. [Today is such a beautiful day, I finally got what I wanted. I hope those who try to ruin someone else's relationship will wake up soon.] She wrote. Chester Morrison replied to her post: [It is a great day. Don't ruin your good mood by some trash.] When I returned home, holding my grandmother's photo, who had passed away, I found them tangled together on the bedspread my grandmother had lovingly sewn for me, the one with a pair of Swan that symbolizes eternal love.

I've been in a three-year relationship with Antonio Bianco, the successor of the Bianco family. Everyone knows very well how much he loves me. But everything has changed the moment Antonio's older brother passes away, leaving behind his newly-widowed wife, Rosetta Serra, who's also pregnant. Antonio heeds Augusto Bianco's last wish by taking great care of Rosetta. He even ditches me at the altar numerous times for her sake. On our 51st wedding, Antonio still ends up leaving with Rosetta, who keeps crying her heart out. I just gaze at the way Antonio scrambles to come up with a new excuse. I notice how skillfully the wedding planning company is cleaning up the wedding venue in advance. I also spot the flash of a provocative smile Rosetta has shown to me behind Antonio's back as she links arms with him. Suddenly, I feel like a total joke for being with such a man over the past three years. When the hotel manager gives me the bill, he asks casually, "When will the 52nd wedding be held, Ms. Marino? We can make the preparations in advance." "There's no need for a wedding anymore," I respond with a smile. "Even if a wedding is to be held, the groom won't be the same person anyway." After leaving the hotel, I dial the number of the person in charge of the International Medical Organization. "Hello, I'm Cecilia Marino. I'd like to accept your invitation to join your organization, and I can leave anytime soon."

On the eve of my wedding, my fiance's first love, Sasha Green, ruined my custom-made wedding dress worth a fortune. The gown split open down the back. I had to crouch down and clutched my chest with both hands to keep myself from being exposed. She stood there holding a pair of scissors, looking at me with an innocent expression. "Anthea, I'm really sorry. I used a little bit too much force, and I accidentally ruined your dress. Please don't blame me." My fiance, Gary Dome, immediately went up to her and took the scissors from her hand. His voice was full of concern for her. "Why would she blame you? You were just trying to help trim some loose threads. If anything, it's her fault for being too fat, stretching the dress until it tore." Still crouching on the floor, I watched the two of them behave intimately. My gaze turned cold. The dress was ruined, and so was my dream. It was time to wake up.

After working abroad for several years, I returned home, only to have my parents arrange a blind date for me. He was tall and strikingly handsome, honest in character, steady in demeanor, and came from an excellent family background. In short, the perfect candidate for a husband. I told myself that sooner or later, marriage was inevitable, so I settled on him. The day before the wedding, I went to the church—only to be stunned by the sight before me. The entire place had been transformed into something sinister and grotesque. The walls were plastered with terrifying photos of corpses, the floor littered with wax figures of severed arms and legs, and even the flowers had been dyed black, dripping with blood-red stains. But the most infuriating part was the image hanging right at the center of the church—an AI-generated picture of me, pinned beneath my fiancé, as he whipped me. My whole body trembled with fury. I stormed at the staff still working on the decorations, ordering them to stop immediately. Just then, his best friend, Nina Cullen, walked in. "Don't stop. Yves prefers this wedding style." I froze, staring at her in disbelief. "How is that possible? Who in their right mind would decorate something as joyous as a wedding with gore? This is insane!" Nina only gave a cold, arrogant laugh. "That's the theme. If you want to marry him, you'll have to accept it." Speechless, I immediately called Yves. "Yves, I'm not interested in getting married in a haunted house. You'd better restore the church to normal; otherwise, this wedding is off."

“Stop the wedding,” Revan’s voice boomed across the garden. It was loud and clear that it made everyone freeze. Citrine smiled and slowly let go of Gael’s arm, perplexing every guest. “Citrine, babe, w-what are you doing?” he stuttered. He was about to grab her hand when the sex video of him and Citrine’s half-sister began to play. Embarrassed by his cheating ass, he quickly left the venue along with Trisha. “Now, sorry about that father; can we continue the ceremony?” Citrine asks politely as if nothing has happened. “But the groo—” “I am here,” Revan said as he approached Citrine. *** Citrine Lustrio is the illegitimate daughter of a business tycoon; she grew up being mistreated and neglected by her family, and to make matters worse, she discovered her fiancé cheating on her with her half-sister. Determined to break free from her messed-up life and exact revenge, she struck a deal with Revan, the CEO of Soldevilla Group—the man who had betrayed and broken her heart six years ago.

Three years into my marriage with Dominick, Gia, his stepsister, sent me a video clip out of nowhere. I tapped on the video, only to find Dominick tying his stepsister to the bedpost with the tie I had given him. His stepsister lay naked under him, addressing him intimately. After getting their freak on, they shared an embrace, and Gia cozied up against Dominick and uttered, “I don’t like the ring you bought me. Give it to Luna, and tell her it’s a birthday gift from me.” The next day, I sat in an upscale restaurant and stared at the vacant seat across the table. Suddenly, the Underboss wheeled a massive cake toward me. “Don Costa was called away on urgent business. He sent me to deliver your birthday gift.” The box contained his stepsister’s discarded reject. My phone buzzed with new pictures from Gia. Dominick was at the hospital with Gia for a check-up. Without a fuss, I signed the divorce papers and made preparations for a wedding. “Donna Costa, whose names should I put down as the bride and groom?” “Dominick and Gia.” A week from now, I would show the world the kind of filth the supposed solemn Don had been rolling in with his stepsister.