HARPER
A WEEK LATER
The moment I stepped through the glass doors, the air shifted. Conversations still. Laughter died. Every head turned—first out of curiosity, then disbelief. The music faded somewhere behind me, but all I heard was the sharp click of my silver heels echoing through the silence.
I wasn't the bride. But tonight, I was the moment.
Cameras flashed. Whispers rippled like wildfire. Jaws dropped—exactly as I planned.
"Is that Harper Wilson? What the hell is she wearing?"
"Doesn't she know this is Camilla's wedding?"
Even outside, the massive banner had made it clear. As if I was blind.
"My god, she's in a wedding dress. How petty can that bitch be?"
"If I were Camilla, I'd kick her ass out right now. She's a homewrecker, through and through."
I could already see the headlines:
Aunt or Avenger? Harper Wilson Steals the Spotlight in Bridal Gown at Ex-Fiancé's Wedding
And honestly, I couldn't care less.
