Stolen Bridal Look

1 On the day of my wedding, I discovered my bridal makeup artist had been swapped with my bridesmaid's. Lifting the heavy, beaded skirt of my wedding gown, I went looking for my groom, James. Instead, I found him leaning over a vanity chair, wrapping his arms possessively around my bridesmaid, Ivy. Ivy's face was flawlessly painted with the exact bridal look the celebrity makeup artist had spent weeks designing exclusively for me. When she saw me, her voice dropped into a timid, trembling whisper. "Scarlett, please don't be mad at James. I just thought it would be fun to try the bridal look. I will go wash it off right now. I am so sorry, I promise I won't do it again..." James pressed a firm hand onto her shoulder, stepping in to take the heat. "Do not blame Ivy. I insisted on letting her experience a piece of the wedding." He looked at me, his tone laced with absolute entitlement. "Scarlett, you already have me completely. Don't be so petty about the ceremony details, okay?" I stared at them. Then, I nodded, unzipping the garment bag and tossing the custom wedding gown directly into his arms. "Since her bridal makeup is already done, she can have the dress, too. Let her have the whole ceremony. Make it perfect for her." James's eyes softened, mistaking my numbness for grace. "Scarlett, I promise you, after today, my heart and my body belong entirely to you. Only you." I didn't answer him. I simply reached out and took the bridesmaid dress from the rack. James had no idea that earlier this morning, I had received a phone call from myself three years in the future. This toxic, suffocating wedding? I was officially checking out. ... "Wait." I turned to leave, but Ivy called out to me. Her eyes darted nervously before settling into a stubborn glare. "I am sorry, Scarlett, but that bridesmaid dress was custom tailored for my measurements. I really don't want..." She trailed off, biting her lip and casting a pitiful, helpless look up at James. Without a second of hesitation, James closed the distance between us and snatched the dress right out of my hands. "I will have someone find you another outfit. Stop trying to take things from Ivy." I slowly uncurled my empty fingers. My eyes stung, rimmed with a faint red as I forced myself to ask the question. "You think I am the one taking things from her?" "She is wearing my bridal makeup. She is about to walk down the aisle with my groom. What do you call that?" A flicker of guilt crossed James's face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ivy quickly stepped between us, shielding him. "Scarlett, if you are angry, take it out on me! It is all my fault." Tears welled up in her large, innocent eyes. "If I hadn't loved him since we were kids, if I hadn't taken our childhood marriage pact so seriously, if I hadn't tried to end my own life over the pain of losing him... he wouldn't pity me. He wouldn't keep me around." "It is all my fault! I shouldn't have survived that day. Why didn't I just die?" Ivy broke down into hysterical sobs, spiraling into a theatrical display of absolute despair. James instantly pulled her into a tight embrace, pressing frantic kisses to her forehead. "It is not your fault, Ivy. You did nothing wrong." Ivy continued to hyperventilate until her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed against his chest, pretending to faint. James shot me a venomous glare. "Scarlett, if anything happens to Ivy, this wedding is permanently canceled!" My chest tightened. I was about to step forward and call out her pathetic acting, but my feet felt glued to the floor. "What are you standing there for? Go get a doctor!" James barked. "Forget it! Just stay out of my way." He scooped Ivy up into his arms and shoved violently past me. I watched them rush down the hallway. As her head rested on James's shoulder, Ivy opened her eyes, looked straight at me, and flashed a triumphant, mocking smile. My mind dragged me back to last night. James and I were supposed to do the final walkthrough of the banquet hall. Ivy had tagged along. She completely overturned the catering menu I had spent months curating. She even demanded the venue's signature champagne roses be replaced with her favorite pink peonies. The event manager looked at me awkwardly, unsure whose orders to follow. James just waved his hand dismissively. "Do whatever Ivy wants." By the time the walkthrough finished, it was nearly midnight. Ivy whispered that she was scared to take a cab alone. James instantly offered to drive her home. As for me, his fiancé? James didn't even blink. "The venue is only a few blocks from our new penthouse. You can just walk back, Scarlett." On that walk home, I was cornered in a dark alley by three aggressive thugs. Terrified, I dialed James's number. Ivy answered the phone. "Scarlett? James is in the middle of changing his clothes." "He promised to spend his final night as a bachelor with me," she whispered into the receiver. "Oh, and as a thank you, I arranged a little bachelorette surprise for you in that alley. Have fun." After that, James's phone was turned off. Facing the advancing men, I fought like a feral animal. I kicked, I bit, I gouged with my nails. I barely managed to break through their circle and run for my life. During the struggle, my right arm was severely fractured. But because I didn't want James to worry, and because I was so desperate to preserve our "perfect" wedding, I refused to get a cast. In reality, every passing second was a blinding, agonizing physical torment. When James shoved past me just now with Ivy in his arms, his shoulder slammed directly into my fractured arm. The pain was so intense my muscles spasmed. Involuntary tears spilled over my lashes, hot and bitter. Using my good left hand, I pulled out my phone and dialed the patriarch of the Sinclair family. "Arthur," I said, keeping my voice dead level. "The expansion project in the volatile Eastern European sector. I will take it." The line went dead silent for a long moment before the old man replied. "Are you absolutely sure about this, Scarlett?" "If you take this post, you and James will be living on opposite sides of the world. You will not be permitted to return for at least five years." Tears continued to fall, blurring my vision. In my mind, I pictured James running back to me, grabbing my shoulders, and begging me to stay. But I blinked the tears away. James did eventually come back into the room, but the words out of his mouth were pure ice. "This is the only way you can atone for what you did to her." "I am sure," I told Arthur Sinclair over the phone. "I won't regret it." I ended the call and looked at James with absolute calm. "What does Ivy want now?" James's brow furrowed in deep annoyance. "What is with that attitude, Scarlett?" "Ivy could have been happy today, but you had to trigger her! You almost caused her to have a psychological breakdown!" "She just wanted you to participate in a little game to warm up the crowd. Stop acting like she is making unreasonable demands!" I lost all remaining energy to defend myself. I stared at him for a few seconds. "Fine." James froze, clearly caught off guard by my sudden compliance. The violent irritation in his eyes slowly melted into a patronizing tenderness. He reached out to touch my cheek. "Scarlett..." I turned my head, dodging his hand completely. "We are running out of time. I need to find a bridesmaid dress." His voice grew thick and awkward. "You don't need to." "Ivy already prepared an outfit for you. If... if you don't like it, just tell me, and I will have my assistant buy something else." I treated his second sentence like white noise. Ever since Ivy attempted suicide over him, she had become his absolute priority. If Ivy and I ever clashed, the solution was always the same. I was expected to step back and satisfy her. I used to fight it. I used to scream and demand answers. James would just look at me with exhausted, judgmental eyes, treating me like a sinner on trial. "Scarlett, you owe her." "If you hadn't tempted me, if you hadn't made me fall in love with you, I would have married Ivy. She was my destiny first." So, it was my fault for being loved? I never understood his twisted logic, but the invisible ropes of guilt had always kept me bound. I always bowed my head to her. Yet, every time I yielded, James would shower me with overwhelming compensation. I was an orphan with only a high school diploma. James spent a fortune on elite private tutors and pulled strings to get me into a prestigious Ivy League business program. The moment I graduated, he convinced his grandfather to let me enter the Sinclair Group. He groomed me to be the heir. I still remembered the day I secured my first massive corporate acquisition. He lifted me off the ground, his eyes shining with pride. "Keep climbing, Scarlett. Once you are the CEO, I can just sit back and let my brilliant wife take care of me." James genuinely wanted me to be more powerful than him. He meticulously paved the road, giving me the corporate throne that was supposed to be his by bloodright. I was deeply moved. I truly believed he was pushing me to the top because he loved me beyond reason. To repay his devotion, I sacrificed my youth and health, pouring every ounce of my soul into the company. James played the perfect supportive partner. But the reality was, every single act of kindness he showed me always had Ivy's shadow lurking right behind it. I once asked him how long the three of us were going to stay trapped in this twisted dynamic. He kissed my hair and whispered gently into my ear. "Just wait until we are married. Once the rings are on, Ivy will finally let go." I believed him. I waited. But today, on the very day of my wedding, I finally realized the only person who needed to let go was me. ... "This is the dress Ivy prepared for me?" I stared at the garment. It was held together by two razor-thin straps, with a plunging, heavily exposed back. The fabric was a gaudy, cheap metallic gold. It looked like something a nightclub dancer would wear to a cheap gig. My expression turned ice cold. The young assistant holding the hanger kept her head bowed, terrified to look me in the eye. "Y-yes. Mr. Sinclair approved it." "Understood." I swallowed the surging waves of rage and disgust. Hooking my pinky finger under one of the flimsy straps, I walked into the fitting room. The wedding reception was massive. The guest list was a who's who of the city's elite. Over twenty media outlets had been invited to livestream the event. I knew exactly what would happen when I walked out in a trashy, revealing dress. I would be ripped apart by the press. If I were still the old Scarlett, the woman desperate to marry James, I would have refused to wear it. I would have marched up to Ivy and demanded an explanation. And James, swayed by a few fake tears, would have humiliated me in front of everyone to protect her. There was no point anymore. I was done playing their game. I put on the gold dress. The hem barely covered my upper thighs, threatening to expose me with every step. The thin straps dug into my skin, feeling like they would snap under the slightest pressure. My face remained an emotionless mask. Barefoot, I walked out onto the grand stage in the center of the ballroom. Ivy was standing there in my wedding gown. The bridal veil obscured her features, leaving only her smug, bright red lips visible. Seeing me, her smile widened. She grabbed James's arm, pulling him toward the edge of the stage. "Look, Scarlett is coming out!" Then, Ivy let out a theatrical gasp. "Oh my god!" There were five other people on the stage with me. Five heavily muscled men wearing nothing but leather harnesses and tight shorts. They immediately surrounded me. After a few highly suggestive, aggressive dance moves, they started reaching out, attempting to tear the flimsy straps off my dress. James finally hit his breaking point. He lunged toward the stage. "Scarlett! That is enough!" Ivy wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, sobbing violently. "James, why is she doing this? She won't even let me have a fake wedding? She..." Ivy began to hyperventilate, clutching her chest. James immediately held her, rubbing her back while shooting daggers at me. "Scarlett, get down here right now, and I will pretend this never happened! If you don't..." "I will turn this fake wedding into a real one! I will marry Ivy today!" I didn't respond. I was a little busy. Those five men were hired by Ivy specifically to strip me bare and destroy my dignity in front of the entire city. But hidden in the palm of my hand was a tiny, razor-sharp sewing blade. As they reached for me, I moved. Every time a hand came close, my blade found skin. Men are made of flesh and blood. They bleed. They feel pain. They feel fear. Seeing the absolute, feral lack of hesitation in my eyes, the five men panicked. Within seconds, they backed off and practically fled the stage. I wasn't humiliated. Instead, I channeled the adrenaline of the fight into a sharp, commanding solo routine. The guests below couldn't see the blood or the blade. They only saw a fierce, untouchable performance. The ballroom erupted into applause. Hearing the cheering, Ivy's face twisted into an ugly sneer. She glared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. James, however, was completely mesmerized. He unconsciously let go of Ivy, shrugged off his suit jacket, and walked onto the stage to drape it over my bare shoulders. "Scarlett, go back to the dressing room and put your bridal makeup back on." "When it is time to exchange the rings, you will be the one on stage." "You are the woman I am marrying. Ivy can play around, but she doesn't get to take your place." "Of course," I smiled sweetly, acting as though his betrayal had never bothered me at all. He stared at me with intense reluctance as I walked off the stage, even taking a few steps to follow me. Panic flashed across Ivy's face. She clutched her chest again, preparing for another fake medical emergency, but James had lost his patience. "I am not a doctor, Ivy. If you are really sick, go to the hospital." "And give Scarlett her dress back." ... Humiliated and furious, Ivy stormed into my private dressing room. Before she could even open her mouth, I spoke. "Do you know why James loves me?" "Because you are a cheap wh*re!" Ivy spat bitterly. "He loves me because I am wild. I am a challenge he cannot fully conquer," I said coldly. "But you? He doesn't even have to lift a finger, and you are already crawling on your knees for him." "You can never beat me, Ivy. Never." "Smack!" I anticipated her raised hand and slapped her across the face before she could even strike. The impact left her completely stunned. It wasn't enough. Nowhere near enough. I looked at her with pure disdain. "I only let you win in the past because I didn't care enough to fight. But now..." Feeling the absolute icy resolve in the room, Ivy lost her mind, screaming hysterically. "No! That is impossible! He loves me! He will always have a place for me in his heart!" "Want to make a bet?" I asked softly. "What kind of bet?" A few minutes later. James walked into my dressing room. Seeing the figure sitting with her back to the door, the tension in his face vanished. A gentle, loving smile spread across his lips as he approached. "Scarlett, why haven't you changed into your gown yet?" The woman turned around. It was Ivy. She looked up at him timidly. "James." James's face hardened instantly. "Where is Scarlett?" Ivy stood up and wrapped her arms around him, stopping him from turning around. Like a desperate stray cat, she pressed her body against his back, her hands trailing provocatively down his chest. "James, take me right here. Right now." "Since I can't have a real wedding with you, let me have the one thing only a real husband and wife can do." "Scarlett..." Ivy whispered against his neck. "She refused to wear the dress after I touched it. She went to get a backup gown from the designers." James forcefully grabbed her wrists, trying to pull her off. "I need to go find her!" Ivy trembled. "James!" She mimicked my exact tone of voice, striking a commanding, seductive pose. James stopped dead in his tracks. He turned his head, his eyes slowly darkening with a twisted, obsessive lust. Ivy curled her finger, kicked the vanity stool out of the way, and sat up on the makeup counter. "Come here," she ordered. James's face was a mask of violent internal struggle. Ivy scoffed. "What are you so afraid of? Scarlett won't be back for a while. Are you really telling me you don't want a taste of me?" "Don't worry. After today, I will never bother you again." The woman sitting on the counter was no longer the pathetic, crying Ivy that James was used to. She was cold. She was arrogant. She was incredibly alluring. James slowly loosened his silk tie and stepped between her legs. "Ivy, if you become my woman, it is for life. You don't get to leave until I give you permission." "Watch me," Ivy challenged, turning her head away. James grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him, and crashed his lips down onto hers. Ivy responded with frantic, desperate passion. They tangled together, completely lost to the world, tearing at each other's clothes in the middle of the room. I stood silently behind the heavy velvet curtain of the fitting room, watching the entire scene unfold with dead, emotionless eyes. At the same time, I was broadcasting the live security feed directly to the massive projector screens in the main banquet hall. Just as Ivy locked her legs around him to stop him from pulling away for round two, I stepped out from behind the curtain and walked right past them. My social media account updated with a single post. Relationship status: Over. No going back. ... It wasn't until late that night that James finally found out I was leaving the country to take over the Eastern European sector. He drove like a madman back to our penthouse. I was standing by the door, suitcase in hand, when he burst through the entrance. "Scarlett, please, don't leave!" His eyes were bloodshot, pleading with absolute desperation. His arrogance was completely shattered. "What happened with Ivy was a mistake! It was just lust! You are the only woman I actually love!" His phone started vibrating furiously in his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID and immediately moved to decline it. "Answer it," I said calmly. "You wouldn't want to live with any regrets." James declined the call anyway and powered the phone off entirely. "It is just her usual suicide threats. I am sick of it. Scarlett, listen to me, we can start over..." I looked down, pulled out my phone, and pulled up a photo. I turned the screen toward him. "Ivy just accepted a proposal from a college classmate who has been in love with her for ten years." "What?" James snatched the phone from my hand, staring in utter disbelief at the picture of Ivy holding a massive bouquet of red roses, pressed intimately against another man. He shoved the phone back into my chest. "Wait for me," he ordered frantically, sprinting out the door and speeding off into the night. I didn't wait. I grabbed my suitcase and got into my waiting car. Sitting in the backseat, I opened my airline app and canceled the flight to Eastern Europe. I opened my photo gallery and permanently deleted the badly photoshopped image of Ivy I had just shown him. Finally, I popped the SIM card out of my phone, snapped it in half, and tossed the pieces out the window into the dark streets. Goodbye, James. I am going to start a new life. And you can rot in the hell of your own regret.