Best Man, Best Choice

At my own wedding, the groom switched—Malcolm Lowell bailed, and the best man stepped in.

Lumi, the Irving's real daughter, latched onto Malcolm's arm and smirked from the crowd.

"I was just feeling a little low," she said. "Didn't think Malcolm would go this far for me."

Malcolm raised a brow. "I just wanted to make her happy. You took her spot for years. Time to pay it back. This is for your own good."

That's when it hit me—this whole wedding was a setup, a twisted show just to entertain Lumi.

All because I was the adopted one. I'd lived in her place for over two decades.

I didn't cry. Didn't freak out. I just took the new groom's hand, faced the priest, and said, "Keep going."

The second I said it, the whole wedding went dead silent.

Malcolm, all smug a second ago, went stiff.

Lumi played dumb, sticking out her tongue. "Irene, seriously? You mad? We were just messing around. Don't take it so personally. I even got you a sweet wedding gift—from one sister to another."

She popped open a box and pulled out a sapphire ring.

My chest tightened. That was the Lowell family heirloom.

Malcolm once slipped it on my finger, all serious, calling me his future—the next lady of the house. Then he snatched it back, claiming it needed maintenance.

Lumi smiled sweet. "Malcolm gave me this to mess around with, but the second I saw it, I thought it suited you more. So hey, consider it my gift."

I glanced at the ring, then at Malcolm—his face frozen, caught in the lie.

Pain stabbed through my chest.

So that "maintenance" excuse was just a setup to hand it to her.

I held myself steady and let out a cold laugh. "Shame to waste such a thoughtful gift. My groom and I already have our rings. We're good."

With everyone watching, I chucked the sapphire ring straight into the champagne tower.

Ignoring the murmurs, I took a ring from the ring bearer and slid it onto my new groom's finger.

Emmett Everhart—best man turned husband—was just as good-looking as Malcolm, maybe better. Broader, too. We hadn't talked much before, but something about him felt weirdly familiar.

He raised an eyebrow, then quietly slid a ring onto my finger.

The room exploded with gasps.

Malcolm's jaw clenched, chest rising with fury.

Lumi's eyes went glossy. "Irene, you're really mad, huh? It's all my fault. Don't blame Malcolm."

Seeing Lumi tear up, Malcolm snapped, "Why are you being so heartless to her?"

I laughed, cold and sharp. "Heartless? Didn't you two want this exact ending?"

Six months ago, Lumi waltzed in with a paternity test and dropped the bomb—I wasn't really an Irving. Just a stand-in to patch up Mrs. Irving's grief over her real daughter.

Overnight, I went from golden girl to unwanted guest. People started acting like I had some kind of disease.

Everyone except Malcolm.

He stayed by my side, comforting me again and again, swearing that his feelings would never change because of my identity.

We'd been inseparable since we were kids. He promised we'd get married, even followed me to school, glued to my side in every class.

His family paraded rich girls in front of him—he shot them all down. All for me.

He started a business from scratch, clawed his way to heir status, just so he could pick his bride.

Anytime someone threw shade about me being adopted, he was all in—ride or die.

But then? Everything shifted.

Suddenly, every quiet moment turned into a Lumi drama special.

Malcolm, who used to roll his eyes at Lumi, now ditched me the second she snapped her fingers.

Every time I tried to hold on, he'd hit me with that disappointed look.

"You stole Lumi's life. You owe her. I'm just helping you fix it—for your own good."

Like clockwork. Same guilt-trip, every time.

And today? The wedding we planned for five freaking years? He tossed it like trash, just to give Lumi a laugh.

That was it. Whatever love I had left? Dead on arrival.