My Fiancé's Second Wedding - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Gerald's low, chilling laugh sent shivers down my spine, his words barely more than a whisper.
"A blood debt gets paid in blood. He doesn't get to explain himself."
The words were so soft I almost thought I'd imagined them. My head snapped toward him, eyes searching his face. His thin lips gave nothing away—only those razor-sharp eyes, narrowed like a predator sizing up its prey.
"Gerald, what did you just say?"
My pulse hammered in my throat. I was terrified he'd do something reckless on my behalf.
Then—like flipping a switch—his lips curved into that lazy, teasing smile. "Huh? I said you look gorgeous today."
I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my brain.
After my brother finished tearing Jonah a new one over the phone, he was still seeing red, fists clenched, shouting about driving to Hammerton right that second. Before I could intervene, Gerald gripped his shoulder and pulled him aside. Their hushed conversation lasted mere seconds, but when my brother turned back, the nuclear meltdown had downgraded to a simmering rage.
I blinked.
Nobody calmed my brother down when he got like this. Nobody except me and our parents. Until Gerald.
Something warm and unfamiliar fluttered in my chest. Almost like... he was always meant to be part of our family.
After finalizing everything with the doctor, Gerald drove me home. City lights streaked across the windshield, painting shifting shadows on his face as I finally caved to curiosity.
"What magic words did you use on Ronan?" I tilted my head, studying his profile.
Gerald just smirked, fingers drumming the steering wheel. No answer.
For the first time, I almost felt sorry for Jonah.
I'd already made his life a living hell today. While I was walking down the aisle, he should've been doing the same—celebrating his wedding. Instead, his ceremony turned into a circus.
Right as the officiant opened his mouth to pronounce them husband and wife, cops stormed in with an arrest warrant. Nadia's mom for suspected kidnapping. Jonah for assault.
Nadia—wearing what should've been my wedding dress—screamed loud enough to shatter crystal. "This is bullshit! My mother's a sick old woman—how could she kidnap Arabelle?" She spun toward the cops, eyes wild. "How much did she pay you to humiliate us?"
Then she zeroed in on Jonah.
"Jonah only stabbed Arabelle because she was attacking my mom! It was self-defense!"
"Arabelle's the criminal here! Why aren't you arresting her?"
Crickets from the crowd.
Then—just when things couldn't get worse—the hotel staff I'd bribed dropped the mic.
One damning clip after another played on the projector: Jonah and Nadia whispering in the hospital, their entire scheme exposed. Forged medical records proving Nadia's mom was never sick.
Nadia lost it. She lunged at the projector like a rabid animal, fists flying, trying to smash the evidence into oblivion. Too late. The cat was out of the bag.
The murmurs swelled. Guests exchanged "can you believe this shit?" glances.
For six years, Jonah refused to meet my parents, but all our friends knew me as his girlfriend. Now they were watching the train wreck unfold, trying to reconcile why some random woman stood beside him at the altar.
Nadia and her mom screamed about frame jobs and fake evidence—until Jonah froze. Something in his eyes snapped.
He turned sheet-white and slapped Nadia so hard the crack echoed through the hall.
"This is all real, isn't it?" His voice shook with barely contained rage.
Nadia clutched her cheek, stunned. "You hit me? Everything I did was for us! You went along with it—I didn't force you!"
"You lying bitch," Jonah hissed, whole body trembling as he lunged for her throat. "You played me—"
The cops had zero patience for their soap opera. They yanked Jonah off her and cuffed them both.