My Fiancé's Second Wedding - Chapter 10: Chapter 10
You are reading My Fiancé's Second Wedding, Chapter 10: Chapter 10. Read more chapters of My Fiancé's Second Wedding.
"So that's it, Arabelle. This is your revenge." Jonah's voice was raw, desperate. "I promised I'd marry you. Why couldn't you just wait a little longer?"
I scoffed, the sound icy. "You knew Nadia's mother was lying. Why didn't you tell me? If you'd just listened, none of this would've happened!"
His jaw tightened. "I had my assistant and bodyguards tailing you. If you hadn't sped off like some reckless—"
"Stop." The word cut through his excuses like a blade. Even now, he was still blaming everyone but himself. Nadia. Her mother. Me. But the truth was simple: He was the one who'd destroyed us.
A cold laugh threatened to escape my throat, but I swallowed it down. My voice was flat, lifeless. "I did tell you. You just didn't believe me."
His mouth opened, then snapped shut. No denial. No defense. Just silence.
"And if you want to know why your assistant lied," I added, "ask him yourself."
Jonah's face went rigid. Without hesitation, he yanked out his phone and dialed. The second the call connected, his voice was razor-sharp. "Zane. The truth. Now. Why did you stop following Arabelle that night?"
A long pause. Then, a shaky gulp. "Sir… Miss Nadia gave the order. She said—she said Miss Arabelle wasn't our concern."
Jonah's grip on the phone turned bone-white. His expression—pale, shattered—said it all.
He fired Zane and the bodyguards on the spot, his voice trembling with fury. When he turned back to me, his eyes were haunted. Hands clawing at his hair, he looked like a man drowning in regret.
"Why…?" His voice cracked. "We loved each other. You swore you'd only marry me…"
I didn't answer. Just walked away, Gerald's arm steady around me. Behind us, Jonah collapsed to his knees, his sobs echoing through the empty space.
A man who still didn't understand his mistakes wasn't worth my pity. Six years. Wasted.
I thought it was over.
I was wrong.
The next day, he showed up at my parents' doorstep, begging for forgiveness. He knew how much family meant to me—he was counting on it. If Ronan hadn't been there, my mother would've learned the truth: that her daughter had nearly lost the use of her right hand because of him.
By the time Gerald and I arrived for lunch, Ronan already had Jonah by the collar, dragging him toward the dumpster like trash. With a grunt, he shoved him to the pavement.
"You clung to Nadia but strung my sister along?" Ronan's voice dripped with disgust. "And now, when it's too late, you suddenly care? Pathetic."
Jonah hit the ground hard—just like the day he'd knelt before Ronan, swearing to protect me forever.
This time, no one believed him.
Tears streaked his face as he crawled toward me. "Arabelle, please… I can fix this—"
A scream cut him off.
Nadia burst through the security line, wild-eyed, a knife glinting in her hand. Before anyone could react, she lunged—
The blade sank deep into Jonah's back.
"You bastard!" she shrieked, twisting the knife. "My mother died for us! And now you want a divorce?!" Her voice turned manic. "The only way out is death!"
Blood sprayed. Gerald yanked me into his arms, shielding me. "We're leaving."
Ronan sprinted inside to keep our parents from seeing the horror unfolding.
As the elevator doors closed, I caught one last glimpse: Jonah, roaring in pain, wrestling Nadia to the ground.
Later, we heard they'd both survived—barely. Nadia's hands were ruined; she'd never hold a cup again. Jonah spent a month in the hospital, his lung punctured.
The final twist? Nadia's mother had killed herself rather than face prison. Her last plea? For Jonah to take care of Nadia.
He divorced her anyway.
Ronan nudged me days later, grinning. "Enough dwelling. Go be happy with Gerald."
I chucked a pillow at him. "Then hurry up and get me a sister-in-law!"
That night, Gerald came home to find Ronan and me wrestling like kids. Without a word, he joined in—turning it into a two-against-one brawl.
(The End)
I scoffed, the sound icy. "You knew Nadia's mother was lying. Why didn't you tell me? If you'd just listened, none of this would've happened!"
His jaw tightened. "I had my assistant and bodyguards tailing you. If you hadn't sped off like some reckless—"
"Stop." The word cut through his excuses like a blade. Even now, he was still blaming everyone but himself. Nadia. Her mother. Me. But the truth was simple: He was the one who'd destroyed us.
A cold laugh threatened to escape my throat, but I swallowed it down. My voice was flat, lifeless. "I did tell you. You just didn't believe me."
His mouth opened, then snapped shut. No denial. No defense. Just silence.
"And if you want to know why your assistant lied," I added, "ask him yourself."
Jonah's face went rigid. Without hesitation, he yanked out his phone and dialed. The second the call connected, his voice was razor-sharp. "Zane. The truth. Now. Why did you stop following Arabelle that night?"
A long pause. Then, a shaky gulp. "Sir… Miss Nadia gave the order. She said—she said Miss Arabelle wasn't our concern."
Jonah's grip on the phone turned bone-white. His expression—pale, shattered—said it all.
He fired Zane and the bodyguards on the spot, his voice trembling with fury. When he turned back to me, his eyes were haunted. Hands clawing at his hair, he looked like a man drowning in regret.
"Why…?" His voice cracked. "We loved each other. You swore you'd only marry me…"
I didn't answer. Just walked away, Gerald's arm steady around me. Behind us, Jonah collapsed to his knees, his sobs echoing through the empty space.
A man who still didn't understand his mistakes wasn't worth my pity. Six years. Wasted.
I thought it was over.
I was wrong.
The next day, he showed up at my parents' doorstep, begging for forgiveness. He knew how much family meant to me—he was counting on it. If Ronan hadn't been there, my mother would've learned the truth: that her daughter had nearly lost the use of her right hand because of him.
By the time Gerald and I arrived for lunch, Ronan already had Jonah by the collar, dragging him toward the dumpster like trash. With a grunt, he shoved him to the pavement.
"You clung to Nadia but strung my sister along?" Ronan's voice dripped with disgust. "And now, when it's too late, you suddenly care? Pathetic."
Jonah hit the ground hard—just like the day he'd knelt before Ronan, swearing to protect me forever.
This time, no one believed him.
Tears streaked his face as he crawled toward me. "Arabelle, please… I can fix this—"
A scream cut him off.
Nadia burst through the security line, wild-eyed, a knife glinting in her hand. Before anyone could react, she lunged—
The blade sank deep into Jonah's back.
"You bastard!" she shrieked, twisting the knife. "My mother died for us! And now you want a divorce?!" Her voice turned manic. "The only way out is death!"
Blood sprayed. Gerald yanked me into his arms, shielding me. "We're leaving."
Ronan sprinted inside to keep our parents from seeing the horror unfolding.
As the elevator doors closed, I caught one last glimpse: Jonah, roaring in pain, wrestling Nadia to the ground.
Later, we heard they'd both survived—barely. Nadia's hands were ruined; she'd never hold a cup again. Jonah spent a month in the hospital, his lung punctured.
The final twist? Nadia's mother had killed herself rather than face prison. Her last plea? For Jonah to take care of Nadia.
He divorced her anyway.
Ronan nudged me days later, grinning. "Enough dwelling. Go be happy with Gerald."
I chucked a pillow at him. "Then hurry up and get me a sister-in-law!"
That night, Gerald came home to find Ronan and me wrestling like kids. Without a word, he joined in—turning it into a two-against-one brawl.
(The End)
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