You Weren’t Invited to My Wedding, Ex! - Chapter 51: Chapter 51

The moment my father stepped onto the grand stage, a hush fell over the crowd. The chatter, the whispers, the murmurs—they all ceased. Every pair of eyes turned toward him, drawn to his presence, his power.
William Malcolm—the richest man in Asia, the man who controlled entire industries, the man who could buy and sell everyone in this room—stood before them, radiating authority. He lifted the microphone with an air of ease, his expression unreadable yet commanding.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his deep, rich voice booming across the lavish ballroom. “Welcome. Thank you all for being here tonight.”
A polite round of applause rippled through the room.
He nodded. “It is a pleasure to host so many of our esteemed friends, allies, and business partners. Tonight is not just a celebration—it is a night of new beginnings.”
He gestured toward the front row, where Ethan stood beside me, calm and composed. A small smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. Jason stood a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets, his deadly gaze locked onto Ethan. I could feel his jealousy radiating like a storm about to break.
My father continued. “A special thanks to Dr. Ethan Sullivan.” His lips quirked. “A man who, as you all know, is one of the finest doctors in the world. But of course, that is merely the surface of who he is.”
There was a shift in the air. Curiosity sparked in the crowd. Because everyone knew—the name Ethan Sullivan was not just tied to medicine. Everyone had heard rumors. Whispers of a man whose power stretched beyond hospitals and clinics.
Ethan remained silent, his sharp blue eyes glinting as he raised a brow ever so slightly. My father smiled. “Let’s just say, Dr. Sullivan’s influence reaches far beyond what most of you realize.”
Gasps. Murmurs. Stolen glances.
Ethan only smirked.
“Of course,” my father continued smoothly, “I must also acknowledge the esteemed Moretti family.”
Edward puffed his chest, his lips curling into a smug smirk. Beside him, Isabella lifted her chin, a pleased expression settling on her face. And Lily—oh, Lily. She practically preened, her fake smile widening as if she were a damn queen. I almost rolled my eyes. She had no idea what was coming.
“And of course,” my father’s voice rang out, “Jason Romano.”
Jason remained motionless, his face void of emotion. But I saw the flicker in his eyes. The storm brewing beneath.
My father exhaled, gripping the microphone tighter. His voice lowered, filled with something undeniable. “Tonight, I have gathered you all here for an important announcement. One that will change everything.”
The air thickened. The anticipation clawed at the crowd. I could feel the tension. The energy.
Then—
“Tonight, I introduce you all to my daughter.”
Gasps. Confusion. Shock. My father turned to me, extending a hand.
“Seraphina Malcolm.”
Silence. And then, the ballroom exploded.
“What?!”
“Did he say daughter?”
“Since when did William Malcolm have another child?”
“Seraphina Malcolm? But—”
A sharp gasp cut through the commotion.
Lily. She was the first to recover from the shock, her eyes wild, her face twisted in disbelief.
She pointed a trembling finger at me, voice sharp, shrill, desperate. “Are you sure she’s your daughter?” she demanded. “She’s nothing but a mistress! She seduced my husband!”
I merely smiled. “Oh, Lily,” I drawled. “Still holding onto that little fairytale?”
She seethed.
The crowd murmured louder.
“I don’t believe it,” Isabella suddenly interjected, her voice dripping with venom. “This must be some kind of mistake.” She laughed, but it was forced, strained. “Seraphina Malcolm? No, no. She’s a nobody. A woman who chases after men with power—first Jason, now Ethan Sullivan?”
I arched a brow. “Jealous?”
Isabella’s face darkened.
I turned, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as I strode toward my father, William Malcolm. The room was dead silent, save for the hurried whispers, the frantic breaths of those who couldn’t believe what they had just heard.
Edward’s eyes were blazing with fury. Isabella was still stiff, her manicured nails gripping the edge of the banquet table as if she could claw her way out of this. And Lily—pathetic, seething Lily—stood frozen in place, her face drained of color, her hands balled into trembling fists.
I reached my father’s side.
He didn’t hesitate—he handed me the microphone.
The cameras shifted instantly. Bright lights focused on me, the media scrambling to capture every moment, every shift in expression, every single word about to spill from my lips.
This was it. The moment the world would know.
I exhaled slowly, gripping the microphone with steady fingers. Then I spoke.
“My name,” I repeated, my voice stronger, firmer, unshakable, “is Emma Moretti. Before.”
A ripple of gasps crashed through the ballroom.
But I wasn’t finished.
I turned my gaze toward the cameras.
“I was born as the daughter of William and Evelyn Malcolm. I was their daughter—the child they lost. The child that was stolen.”
More murmurs. Shock.
I continued, my voice carrying across the hall, reaching every ear, every corner. “The Moretti family abducted me when I was just a newborn. They raised me not as a daughter, but as an inconvenience. As someone they could use, mold, discard when they saw fit.”
My eyes found Edward Moretti’s.
He looked like he wanted to strangle me.
Good.
I lifted my chin.
“They never gave me love. They never gave me kindness. They never treated me as their own.” I let the bitterness seep into my tone. “Because I never was.”
A sharp breath from Isabella.
Lily shook her head violently, her lips trembling. “You’re lying,” she hissed. “You’re—”
I cut her off.
“I am a Malcolm,” I declared, eyes burning into hers. “And the world will know who I really am.”
Lily flinched.
Jason finally moved. His dark eyes locked onto mine, his jaw clenching so hard I thought it might crack.
I could see it now—the anger, the realization, the regret.
And then, the lights dimmed. The murmurs in the grand ballroom quieted as the massive screen at the front flickered to life.
The screen turned black before a soft hum of static echoed through the hall.
Then—a video began to play.