The Fleming relatives crowded around, green with envy, falling over themselves to congratulate Brent on his good fortune.
Brent basked in their flattery, the smug smile on his face growing wider by the minute.
As if he could already see himself holding my family's wealth, living like a king.
The ceremony proceeded smoothly. Just as we were about to exchange rings, the banquet hall doors burst open.
A woman stormed in—hair wild, face twisted with rage.
She charged straight at Brent and slapped him hard across the face.
She hurled a medical report at him, her whole body shaking as she jabbed a finger in his direction and screamed:
"Brent Fleming! You animal! You lying piece of trash! You knew you had an STD—why did you have to drag me down with you?!"
The moment those words left her mouth, the entire hall plunged into deathly silence.
Only I stood there, a cryptic smile slowly curving my lips.
This woman was none other than the special nurse I'd arranged for Brent.
Every guest was stunned.
The Fleming relatives especially—their faces a mixture of disbelief and barely concealed schadenfreude as whispers rippled through the crowd.