Who Was Blamed When Bachelorette Week Went Wrong?

My fiancé of eight years moved in with the junior he was mentoring. She was young, pretty, knew how to play helpless, and knew exactly what she was doing. He'd down every toast meant for her—the same nights he let me get talked into drinking until I nearly died. He sat with her through her depression, fetched her water, fed her by hand. And me? I was alone in a hospital bed, burning with a 104-degree fever. He set her up on a pedestal and never noticed I'd been ground into the dirt. The day they discharged me, I didn't scream. I didn't fall apart. I went home, quietly packed a suitcase, and burned every memory that had his name on it. Later I heard the famous CEO of Washington Group showed up at his fiancée's door with millions of dollars in gifts. He found an empty apartment. And he lost his mind.

My fiance, Henry Gordon, was two hours late to our vows on our wedding day. Just as he was catching his breath and about to say ‘I do’, he received a call from his secretary, Yvonne Luther. After hanging up, he looked at me apologetically. “Honey, my useless team can’t handle the personnel appointment of the financial team on their own. They’re insisting that I head back! I’ll make it up to you with another wedding later on.” I told him that I understood though I felt disappointed, because he was at a critical stage in his career. However, the moment he left without hesitation, I tossed the ring on my finger into the venue’s flower bed and announced to everyone that the wedding was cancelled. I had to see for myself who would ask Henry, a mere minority shareholder, to make such a significant decision without consulting me, the chairperson. He did not know that just a few hours earlier, I had taken back the ‘gift’ I gave him and reclaimed my position as the company’s chairperson.

At my wedding rehearsal, my fiancé's colleague, Haley Rhodes burst in and tore apart the carefully arranged decor. "Ryan promised he'd marry me!" she shrieked, storming closer, "Who do you think you are?" Without warning, she lunged, grabbing hold of the wedding gown, which was worth a fortune. But she only got so far—she was too heavyset to even squeeze it past her head. I let out a mocking laugh. "Don't tell me you're too big to fit even a plus-size wedding dress?" That really set her off. With grim determination, she forced herself into the gown. But as soon as she did, the delicate fabric tore, leaving absurdly stretched holes across her back and waist. "Too bad the dress is ruined now. But who cares?" she sneered triumphantly. "Ryan loves me. He’ll buy me another wedding gown, anyway." But when the actual wedding began, she got the shock of her life. The groom walking down the aisle wasn’t Ryan at all. It was their boss — Ryan and Haley's boss. Well, I never said this was my wedding.

At the engagement banquet, Monique Walton is in the middle of telling all the guests and the viewers of the livestream that's taking place about our tale of romance. What she doesn't know is that I have already swapped out the romantic video of our sweet memories for the racy clip of her and Terry Caldwell going at it like rabbits. When the clip is presented on the monitor, everyone falls silent immediately. That's when the live comments on the livestream instantly overwhelm the comment section. Monique turns around in a fluster, the well-maintained smile on her face starting to crack bit by bit. She stumbles toward the control panel, accidentally knocking over the champagne tower in her haste. Amid the chaos, I draw to my feet and walk onto the stage. Then, I pick up the microphone Monique has just dropped. "Everyone, this engagement banquet is officially canceled. From now on, Monique Walton and I are no longer affiliated with each other."

On the eve of our wedding, Olivia Smith tells me that she wants to attend a bachelorette party. Not wanting to disappoint her, I agree to let her go. I even tell her to not drink that much at the party. She leaves a kiss on my cheek bashfully and tells me that she will make me the happiest man tomorrow. But on the next day, I can't reach OIivia via phone at all. Instead, I notice a post her childhood friend, Aiden Jones, has uploaded to his Instagram feed. "Tomorrow, you'll become another man's wife. Please let me claim you one last time." There's a close-up photo of two people smushing their cheeks together. After putting down my phone quietly, I inform everyone that the wedding has been canceled.

My boyfriend, Percy Gaskell, suddenly flaunts an engagement ring on the Internet. He also announces that he'll get married in two months. Everyone thinks I'm the lucky bride who will get proposed soon, including myself. Anticipation fills my heart as I start making wedding preparations. But unwittingly, I end up overhearing Percy and his friends' conversation at the doorway of a private room in a bar. "I'm seriously impressed with the method you used to select your wife, Percy. You actually gave all 19 of them different scores! Those with lower scores get kicked out, whereas those with higher scores get to ascend to the next round! In the end, you choose the best wife out of all participants! "Now, the only ones left are Maisie and your beloved mistress, Sabrina. Not only that, but you're also biased toward Sabrina, so you gave her a relatively high score. Maisie is definitely losing this time! "What if Maisie finds out that she's not the one you're marrying in the end? Will she throw a hissy fit?" Percy took a sip out of his wine glass lazily. In a flippant tone, he replied, "That will have to depend on who satisfies me the most. Let me observe them for three more days. If Maisie is still that disappointing, she shouldn't blame me for being ruthless." His friends all burst into laughter. "You're far too soft-hearted, Percy! Maisie is inferior to Sabrina, be it her figure, age, or bedroom skills! I can't believe you're still giving her a chance! "If I were you, I'd have kicked her out in the first round!" Percy just smiles in amusement. "I only wish to give her a chance because I see how pathetically low her score is. If she can't even use the final chance given to her properly, she shouldn't blame me for not marrying her." I can feel my blood turn to ice in my veins. My mind has completely gone blank. All I can hear is my heartbeat, which slowly becomes louder. With a trembling hand, I dig out my phone and text that man's number, which lies at the bottom of my contact list. "Are you up for a whirlwind marriage right now?"