That much was clear from the sideways glances and the murmured whispers trailing behind me as I walked through the grand hall.

I’ll admit, the wedding set up was stunning. Erica had taken her time to set the scene with shades of gold and ivory. The guests had come wearing their expensive gowns and tuxedos. Everything was… stunning.

But no amount of elegance could mask the rot beneath the surface.

This wasn’t just any wedding. This was her wedding. Erica.

My younger sister. My parents’ golden child. The one who was handed everything on a silver platter while I scraped and clawed for every bit of success I had.

And now?

She had taken the one thing that was supposed to be mine.

Stan.

Stan had been my fiancé. He had been my future. He was the man I loved and trusted, until I came home early from work one night and found them tangled together in our bed.

I still remember how he froze, his face twisted in guilt. As for my sister? She had only smirked, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

“I won, Paige,” she had said simply. “Checkmate.”

A month later, the wedding I had spent over a year planning was canceled, with all the vendors trying to keep my deposits. And what about Erica and Stan? They no longer had to sneak around. They were finally an official couple.

After that, I left town for a few weeks, moving around hotels while working remotely. I tried to put it all behind me, and eventually, I did. When I was ready, I moved back in and got myself a kitten.

Then, the invitation arrived.

And now, a year after that entire fiasco, here I was, standing in the middle of their celebration, invited as nothing more than a spectator to their so-called victory.

I bet it was my parents who forced her to invite me. If Erica had her own way, she would never have invited me. Or maybe she would have… just to gloat. She was as nasty as they came.

But what Erica didn’t know, what nobody knew, was that tonight, I wasn’t here to mourn my loss.

I was here to make sure that Erica would never forget what she had done to me. And with that, she would never forget the surprise I had planned for her wedding reception.

The ceremony was a blur. I stood near the back, barely listening as the officiant droned on about love and devotion. Honestly, they were just words that meant nothing.

Stan, dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, stared at Erica with a look of adoration I knew was fake. She, in turn, beamed up at him like she had won the grandest prize of all.

I almost laughed.

Enjoy it while you can, sweetheart, I thought while sipping my champagne.

By the time the reception began, the hall buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses. A massive screen behind the dance floor played a slideshow of their engagement photos, Stan lifting Erica into the air, their foreheads touching as they smiled at each other.

Honestly, if you didn’t know the history of how they got together, you would think they were genuinely happy.