The Wedding They'll Never Forget - Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Paul and I had spent over a decade building a life together—growing our business, mapping out our future, and counting down to the wedding we'd always dreamed of. Then, with one accidental click, it all shattered.
I found a shared document in his Cloud Drive—one I was never supposed to see. Inside were secret meet-up plans, steamy love notes, and hotel receipts. The gut punch? He was cheating with Claire Winslow, my most trusted employee. In that moment, something inside me snapped.
Our perfect life? A sham. Our business? Soon to be mine alone. And the wedding? Oh, it wasn't getting canceled. It was going to be the beginning of their nightmare.
I wasn't some weepy fiancée who'd slink away quietly. No, I'd take everything from them—piece by piece, until there was nothing left. They thought they could betray me and walk off unscathed. They had no idea who they were dealing with.
Wedding planning had me swamped—juggling work while prepping for what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. One night, as I finalized our guest list, I shared it with Paul via Cloud Drive. He was away at a conference, so this was how we stayed organized. Everything seemed flawless… until I noticed something odd.
A few days earlier, he'd logged into his email on my laptop, so when I opened the drive that night, it defaulted to his account. Scrolling through folders, one document stood out: [Business Projections Q3]. Dry title, standard stuff—except I hadn't created it, and it wasn't tied to any active project.
Curiosity got the best of me.
I clicked, expecting spreadsheets. Instead, the first line hit like a sucker punch: [Can't stop thinking about that night at the hotel… next time I'll wear red.] My stomach lurched. This wasn't a work file. It was shared exclusively between Paul and an unfamiliar email: [email protected].
Hands shaking, I checked the edit history. The full story unfolded—coded talk of post-meeting hookups, fake "work dinners," even plans to keep their affair going after our wedding like it was just a minor inconvenience.
I sat there, numb. They'd used our business as cover, plotting romantic escapes while I'd poured my soul into building our future. The document wasn't even hidden. He'd gotten so bold, so sloppy, he didn't bother deleting the evidence. Now it glared at me from his shared folder, a cruel cosmic joke.
"Hey, Ruby—sorry, I can't make the tasting today. Can your mom go with you?" Paul's voice was all fake regret when I called to remind him. Same excuse, different day. I forced a breezy tone. "No problem. Just don't overdo it at work, okay?"
The second I hung up, my fists clenched. His reckoning was coming. And I'd make sure it hurt.
After days of ugly crying and rage-spiraling, I pulled myself together. Step one of my ten-part revenge plan? Gather proof.
Thanks to our shared WeCloud account—meant for syncing calendars and photos—I dug through his phone, emails, and bank records without tipping him off. Scrolling my photo gallery, I spotted new uploads from his device. Mostly boring work shots… until I landed on a lingerie selfie of Claire in a hotel mirror.
My chest caved. Swiping frantically, the next photo sealed it: Paul, shirtless in the same room, smirking at the camera.
Then, while working from home (as he "stayed late at a meeting"), I opened our Streamify app and spotted a private playlist called [Late Nights]. Not our music. Not public. Clicking it revealed a soundtrack to their affair—songs like "Secret Love Song" and "Dirty Little Secret," peppered with Claire's notes: [For our weekend getaway], [That night.]
It took weeks, sneaking around wedding prep and work, but soon I had it all—messages, receipts, photos. Filed away, ready for the perfect moment. I'd strike when it destroyed them most.