I let out a hollow laugh. “Please do.”

I opened the bedroom door, just wanting to crash and forget this nightmare.

But the moment I walked in, I stopped cold.

The bedsheets were crumpled. The blanket had been used. And under my pillow, there it was—women’s underwear. Not mine.

A wave of nausea hit me.

Lana had already slept in my bed?

I grabbed my essentials, didn’t even glance at the people in the living room and stormed out.

I slammed the door behind me. Hard.

I’d stay at a hotel tonight. That place felt dirty now. Tomorrow, I’d bring in a cleaning crew. Maybe even throw out the bed.

The day had drained every ounce of energy out of me. After washing up at the hotel, I collapsed on the bed—only for my phone to buzz.

A friend request.

I accepted without thinking.

Then came the photos.

Every single one showed Micah and Lana, in my house, tangled up in each other on what was supposed to be our marital bed.

The last image came with a message. [Smart women know when to quit.]

I replied: [And some are into leftovers. I’m more than happy to hand him over.]

Then I turned off my phone and went to sleep.

When I woke, the sun was already up. I ate breakfast, then went back to my house to reclaim what was mine. But when I opened the front door, I froze again.

Balloons. Streamers. Posters on the walls.

Micah and Lana’s wedding photos, everywhere.

Strangers—people I didn’t recognize—were lounging on my couch, raiding my fridge, drinking from my mugs.

My bookshelf had been ransacked. Files scattered everywhere. The antique ornaments I’d bought at auctions and the heirloom gifts from my parents—manhandled and some already shattered.

I forced myself to stay calm and turned off their loud music.

They all turned to look at me, annoyed.

“Who are you?” I asked coldly. “What are you doing in my house?”

They exchanged confused glances. “Your house? You mean Lana’s house?”

“We’re here for the wedding. Who the hell are you?” the other added.

I almost choked on my own fury. “Micah and Lana… are holding a wedding here?!”

Then someone pointed at me. “I know her. Guys, she’s that mistress!”

Before I could say anything, someone flung a cup of milk tea in my face.

“You’ve got some nerve showing up here. Trying to ruin the wedding, you homewrecker?”

More people joined in—slapping, kicking, screaming at me.

I fought back, but there were too many.

I was shoved to the ground.

They got braver, crueler.

Someone hit me. Someone tried to rip my clothes. Others livestreamed the whole thing, wanting the whole internet to “see what a mistress looks like.”

I covered my face, but they grabbed my hands and yanked them away.

They pinned my limbs down and hung a pair of heels around my neck. Then they spat in my face, mocking me, calling me bitch, slut and other names.

I sobbed, helpless and humiliated, as they used my pain for entertainment.

Until suddenly—someone shouted, “The groom’s here!”

They backed off and rushed to the door.

I scrambled to my feet, barely able to stand.

And there they were—Micah in a sharp suit, Lana in a wedding gown.

Micah saw me, disheveled and broken. He hesitated, then walked over.

Leaning in, he whispered, “I thought you left. This is not a real wedding. We’re just putting on a show… for the kid.”

My voice was cold. “Oh, I see. So the bruises on my face and the shattered antiques—those are all just props for your little show?”

Micah frowned, clearly not happy with my reaction.

Before he could say anything, their friends swarmed around us.

“Micah, this mistress has some nerve showing up here like this,” one of them sneered. “You should slap her—make it up to Lana.”

Micah didn’t move.

But Lana was staring at him expectantly.

Micah turned to me instead. “Just leave, okay?”

“Why should I?” I asked coldly. “And mistress? Tell me, Micah—am I a mistress?”

Someone nearby scoffed and spat at the ground near my feet. “Micah has a wife and kid. What else would that make you?”

I stared at Micah with fire in my eyes. “Well?”

Micah’s voice was low. “No.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Chaos erupted as everyone started shouting in Lana’s defense.

Micah tried to calm them down. “No, it’s not what you think, guys. She and I… we’re just friends. She’s not a mistress. We barely even know each other.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Not even friends? Really, Micah? Then tell me—why are you holding your wedding in my house?”

Someone near me kicked my leg. “Your house? This is Micah and Lana’s home, you delusional gold digger.”

“Typical homewrecker.”

“People like her should be paraded through the streets.”

They hurled insults like it was a sport.

I pulled out my phone and started dialing the police.

But Micah lunged forward, yanked it from my hand and hung up.

“Riley,” he said in a low voice. “Just… let today happen, okay? After this, you can do whatever the hell you want”

I opened my mouth to argue—but then a voice I recognized cut in.

“Just listen, Riley. Don’t make a scene. It won’t help you.”

I turned around and froze.

It was Micah’s mother.

She used to treat me like her own daughter—always warm, always kind. She once told Micah that if he ever dared mistreat me, she’d be the first to object.

Yet here she was, attending his wedding… to another woman.

She dragged me into the bathroom, locked the door and said, “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll make sure you’re treated fairly. Micah didn’t even know you when Lana got pregnant. Technically, it’s not cheating. Let them get married. Then they can get divorced. Better to be with a divorced dad than a man with an illegitimate child, right?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you think I still want to be with Micah? Mrs. Langston, he’s free to marry whoever he wants—I couldn’t care less. But this is my house. I’m only asking him to leave. And of course, he’ll be paying for all the damage done here today.”

Micah’s mom froze.

She stared at me like she didn’t recognize me anymore. “But… don’t you love Micah?” she asked, still in disbelief. “You were willing to do anything for him. I remember you standing outside my door for three hours after he broke up with you.”

“Riley, Micah only married Lana to give her status. It’s not like they’ll really be together. Why are you blowing this out of proportion?” she sounded impatient.

Hearing her dig up the past twisted something deep inside me.

Hearing her bring up the past made something twist in my chest.

God, I’d been so blind.

I was the one with money, the one from a good family—and yet I bent over backwards for Micah, terrified of upsetting him. I gave everything and asked for nothing.

Micah had me all figured out. The more I gave, the more he took.

He made me feel small, worthless—always threatening to leave me if I didn’t play by his rules. And stupid me, I played right into his hands. I clung to him harder.

That’s probably why he had the nerve to marry Lana right under my nose.

He must’ve thought I was fully ‘tamed.’

I’d never been in love before him. So I thought loving someone meant putting their happiness above everything.

But what I never realized—until now—is that real love isn’t about losing yourself. It’s about being happy, too.

With that thought, I turned to Micah’s mom and smiled politely. “That was then. This is now. And if I don’t get a satisfaction answers, I’m calling the cops on everyone.”

I opened the door and stepped out.

Behind me, Micah’s mom snapped, “Riley, you better think this through. Everyone here saw you playing the homewrecker today. Whether it’s true or not, your reputation’s shot. And when that happens, we won’t agree to it even if you fall to your knees and cry blood begging to get back together and marry Micah.”

I spun around and shot back, “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m already married.”

I bent down to pick up my phone from the ground, ready to call the cops.

But Micah grabbed my wrist.

He looked at me coldly and said, “You’re really determined to ruin my wedding with Lana, aren’t you? Fine then. I won’t protect you anymore.”

He shoved me hard and I fell to the ground. Then he turned to the onlookers and said loudly, “Drag her into the guest room. Don’t let her cause any more trouble.”

In an instant, seven or eight men surrounded me. Their faces lit up with excitement as they dragged me toward the guest room.

We hadn’t even made it inside when their hands started wandering. If they managed to get me through that door, I knew exactly what would happen.

I fought back with everything I had, but I was no match for them.

And then the front door slammed open.

A man’s furious voice echoed through the room. “Touch my wife and you’re dead!”

Tears immediately streamed down my face.

Asher had arrived.