Emrys Harrow was my crush first-then he became my stepdad. Tragic, right?
Dreaming about screwing my mother's man? Yeah, that's a whole new level of messed up.
But this isn't a story about regret. It's about how I seduced my stepdad, made him cheat...
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(KIKI'S POV)
The church was old. Vintage. Drenched in history, with towering stained-glass windows that painted the floors in soft hues of red, blue, and gold.
It belonged to Emrys’ family, a relic from a time when love was sacred, vows were unbreakable, and marriage meant forever.
Today, it meant nothing.
It was just another transaction. Another deal. A pretty cage with vows instead of chains.
I stood at the altar, dressed in a silk gown that hugged my body like an elegant lie. My hands clutched the bouquet like a lifeline, my fingers curling tight around the stems.
I was the maid of honor at my mother’s wedding.
The same mother who had sacrificed me to buy herself the joy of her life.
The same man who had spent last night buried inside me.
My smile didn’t waver. I had practiced it well.
People said weddings were supposed to be the happiest days of one’s life. But as I watched Blaisy Moone slip a ring onto Emrys Harrow’s finger, I wondered—
Whose happiness was this, exactly?
Because it sure as hell wasn’t mine.
The priest’s voice droned on, speaking of love, unity, and devotion.
I almost laughed.
Love wasn’t real. Devotion was conditional. And unity? That was just a poetic way of saying “until something better comes along.”
Emrys looked—indifferent. His face was unreadable, his lips pressed in a neutral line. He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t excited. He was simply there, existing.
I hated that it made me feel better.
Blaisy, on the other hand, was glowing. Like a woman who had won the lottery. And in a way, she had. She had secured her place beside him. She had ensured her future, her comfort, her victory.
And me?
I was just the price she paid.
The weight in my chest grew heavier as Emrys slipped the ring onto her finger. His touch was gentle. His hands steady.
I shouldn’t have cared.
But last night, those same hands had held me. Touched me. Bruised me in ways I secretly wanted.
I swallowed, forcing the memories away.
The priest turned to Emrys. “Do you, Emrys Harrow, take Blaisy Moone to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
