Chapter 9
Tyler fumbled for his phone, hands shaking so badly he couldn’t even pick it up after dropping it on the ground.
Just then, the sound of a guitar broke through the noise.
“Hard to forget the first time I saw you, those captivating eyes.
“I’ll love you for the rest of my life–a love that can stand any test.”
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A woman’s voice followed, loud and full of emotion. “Ty, Sharon’s not coming because she’s finally realized it–she doesn’t deserve you. On every one of those weddings, she was just humiliating herself. So she stepped back.
“But me? I’m your destiny. I’m the one meant to be with you.
“I was planning to crash this wedding anyway, but now that the bride’s taken herself out of the game, let’s just do it.
“I love you. I want to marry you.
“Tyler, marry me!
“I’ll sing you love songs every single day!”
It was Michelle–making a very public, very dramatic proposal.
The media swarmed.
Before this, no one had a clue that Tyler was cheating. So when the mistress outed herself–right there, in public–trying to steal the
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spotlight and take the bride’s place, the crowd went wild. Cameras flashed, and phones were up. Everyone was filming and snapping, scrambling to capture every second of the drama.
Michelle looked at Tyler with stars in her eyes, full of hope and hunger.
After all, he was the ultimate catch–rich, tall, and handsome.
But the truth? Michelle’s life as a “free–spirited” wandering singer barely paid the bills.
She played it cool, all rock–n–roll rebellion and carefree vibes, but behind the scenes, it was a mess.
One meal today, none tomorrow. Living on fumes.
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Worse, she had plenty of nasty habits–drinking, gambling, partying nonstop.
Whatever cash she scraped together usually went straight to paying off gambling debts. Her bank account was emptier than her promises.
She called herself a singer, but in reality, she was a leech.
She’d been playing the “artsy indie girl” act for years–milking lonely rich men and clueless rich kids for free meals, free rides, and a whole lot more.
And Tyler? He was her biggest, richest target yet.
She’d egged him on to ditch wedding after wedding, all so she could one day take the bride’s place.
And in her mind, she’d already won. She was convinced she had him wrapped around her finger.
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So when she finally popped the question–out loud, in public–she fully expected him to say yes.
But to her shock, Tyler acted like he didn’t even hear her. Her entire proposal was background noise.
He just kept trying to make the call.
“Hello? I’d like to report someone missing. My fiancée, Sharon Parham, is 26. Her ID number is… Please, you have to find her. Please.
“Today was our wedding day.” He broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.
Michelle’s face twisted like she’d swallowed poison.
She stormed over, snatched the phone out of his hand, and hurled it to the ground.
“Tyler! Look at me! You love me, don’t you?!”
Smack!
Tyler slapped her across the face.
“Get lost.
“You’re not even good enough to polish Sharon’s shoes.
“You think I’d marry you? Who do you think you are?
“To me, you’re nothing but a tampon–used and tossed.
“Trash—that’s all you are once you’re no longer useful.
“Get the hell away from me!”
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He shoved her aside, furious and broken, stumbling down the hill like a man losing everything.
That’s where the video ended.
I turned off my phone and sank back into the bath.
A few minutes later, it rang again—this time, it was the police.
Apparently, Tyler’s report had been processed, and the authorities were conducting a wellness check.
“Hi, just confirming–are you safe? Has anything happened to you, or are you under any duress?”
“I’m perfectly safe,” I said calmly. “I just don’t want to get married.”
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Chapter 10
