Chapter 3

I didn't go far. I leaned against the cold hallway wall, listening to the commotion inside.

At first, it was Ryan's startled shouts and Blair's curses, then their frantic pounding on the door.

"Chloe! Open the door! Are you crazy!"

Ryan’s voice held a hint of anger.

"What the hell is wrong with you! Chloe, open this door!"

That was Blair's voice, still arrogant.

I smirked, pulled out my phone, and opened a SnapChat group called "Loving Family."

It contained all of Ryan's relatives, including his notoriously image-conscious parents.

I took a deep breath, composed a message, and hit send.

"Aunt and Uncle, dear relatives, I apologize for disturbing you so late. Ryan and my wedding has encountered a small unexpected incident. Ryan… he might need some special assistance to complete our wedding night, so he invited his good friend Miss Blair Hayes to our bridal suite. I believe such a wonderful event should be shared with everyone, so I've decided to let them have the bridal suite to 'deepen their bond.' Good night, everyone."

The moment the message went out, the group exploded.

Dozens of unread messages flashed wildly, but I ignored them, switching my phone to silent.

Then, I dialed the hotel front desk.

"Hello, I'm Chloe, room 1808. Two people I don't know have entered my room and locked me out. I suspect they are intruders. Please send security immediately to handle this. Thank you."

After doing all that, I finally felt the knot of rage in my chest ease a little.

Soon, hotel security and the manager arrived.

They looked at me, the bride still in her nightgown, with expressions of shock and sympathy.

The pounding from inside the room continued; Ryan’s angry shouts had turned into desperate pleas.

"Chloe, I'm sorry, please open the door! What will people think if they see us like this!"

I spread my hands to the manager, an innocent look on my face.

"Manager, you hear that? They're still threatening me in there. I'm so scared."

The manager, a sensible middle-aged man, immediately signaled security to use their master key card to open the door.

The moment the door swung open, I deliberately stepped back, giving the security guards and the manager the best vantage point.

Ryan was standing at the doorway, his shirt half-unbuttoned.

Blair, meanwhile, was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking annoyed, the unsmoked cigarette still between her fingers.

The scene was as intimate as it was scandalous, as awkward as it was ugly.

"Mr. Peterson, Mrs. Peterson, what in the—"

The hotel manager’s expression was priceless.

Ryan’s face instantly drained of all color.

He never in his wildest dreams imagined I would blow things up this spectacularly.

Blair, however, was calmer than him. She stubbed out her cigarette and stood up.

She calmly adjusted her leather outfit, looking at me with eyes like poisoned daggers.

"Chloe, you're ruthless."

"Compliment accepted."

I smiled back.

"Compared to you two, I still have a long way to go."

Just then, Ryan’s phone began to ring furiously.

He answered with a trembling hand, and his father’s furious roar could be heard clearly throughout the entire hallway.

"Ryan Peterson! You animal! Look at what you've done in the family group chat! You and that Blair, now, immediately, get home!"

Ryan's legs buckled, almost sending him to his knees.

He hung up, looking at me in utter despair, muttering:

"It's over… everything's over…"

Blair’s face finally changed too. She might not care about Ryan, but she cared about the Peterson family’s power and money.

She strode quickly to me, lowering her voice, gritting her teeth.

"You think this wins you anything? Chloe, you're too naive. Ryan can't live without me, never will."

With that, she grabbed a still-stunned Ryan and, under everyone’s bewildered stares, fled in shame.

Watching their desperate retreat, I felt no thrill of victory, only an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and sorrow.

I returned to the bridal suite, which now felt completely defiled.

The air still reeked of Blair’s cheap perfume and cigarette smoke.

I walked to the bedside table and picked up our wedding photo. In the picture, Ryan smiled gently, and I was beaming with happiness.

How utterly ironic.

I didn't hesitate, smashing the frame violently to the floor.

The sound of shattering glass felt like a eulogy for five years of my youth.

0