You Weren’t Invited to My Wedding, Ex! - Chapter 52: Chapter 52

At first, it was just me.
Emma Moretti.
A frail, broken woman sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, an IV in my arm, my skin pale, my lips dry.
And then, my voice—my voice from the past.
"If you're watching this… it means I've succeeded."
Gasps rippled through the room.
Jason's entire body stiffened beside Lily.
Edward’s hand twitched at his side.
Lily’s expression was pure horror. I smirked.
"I was dying. Stage four braincancer. I had months left to live. And while I was fighting for my life, my beloved husband—Jason Romano—was fucking my sister, Lily Moretti."
A sharp gasp echoed, followed by chaotic murmurs. Jason’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. Lily stepped back, her face draining of all color.
The video changed. Footage played.
Jason and Lily, in a dimly lit hotel room, tangled in bedsheets. Having sex. Whom Lily recorded it with herself. I just hired someone to hack her files.
"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" My past voice laughed bitterly. "You never even waited for my body to turn cold, did you, Jason? You slept with her while I was still breathing."
Jason gritted his teeth.
The crowd roared in shock, whispers escalating into disgusted murmurs.
Then, another scene.
Lily, kneeling beside my son, Noah, whispering poison into his innocent little ears.
"Your mommy left because she never loved you, Noah," her voice cooed.
I heard audible gasps from the audience.
My past self let out a shaky breath.
"I was supposed to die. I had no reason to live."
The screen flickered again. This time—Ethan.
"Come with me," he had said. "Live, Emma. Live and take back what’s yours."
The next clip showed me in a hospital bed once more, only this time—stronger. Determined.
"I refused to die."
The screen faded to black. Then—
The present me. Alive. Standing here, in front of them all. The lights brightened. I lifted my head.
And the world finally saw the truth. Silence. Thick, suffocating silence.
Then, chaos.
Reporters screamed questions. Guests turned to one another in shock. The Morettis were frozen—humiliated, ruined, powerless.
I stepped forward, my heels clicking against the marble floor, my chin lifted high.
And finally, I spoke.
"My name," I declared, my voice strong, unyielding, "is Seraphina Malcolm."
Then, I turned, locking eyes with Jason.
"But once—" I tilted my head, voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I was your wife, Jason. Emma Moretti."
Jason staggered back.
“You heard her,” William Malcolm said, facing the press, the media, the elites, the people who had once ignored me, dismissed me.
He lifted a hand.
“I, William Malcolm, declare to the world—Emma Moretti is no more. From this day forward, my daughter is known as Seraphina Malcolm, the true heiress of the Malcolm family.”
The crowd erupted.
***
The moment my truth was revealed to the world, the Moretti family crumbled like a house of cards.
Edward Moretti, the once-feared mafia king, now stood a disgraced man, his legacy in ruins, his influence shattered beyond repair.
And now—he was running.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of Ethan’s penthouse, sipping a glass of wine as I watched the city lights twinkle beneath me. The hunt had begun.
Ethan sat across from me, his fingers drumming against the polished glass table, his phone pressed to his ear.
"Track them down." His voice was clipped, ruthless. "I don’t care how long it takes—shut down every escape route they try to take. The Morettis don’t leave this country unless I allow it."
A slow, satisfied smile curled on my lips.
Edward Moretti had once believed himself untouchable. Now? Now, he was just another rat scurrying for safety.
Ethan ended the call, setting his phone down with a sharp click.
"They’re desperate," he murmured. "Edward’s trying to flee the country with Isabella and Lily. My men already shut down their access to private jets. The ports are being watched. They won’t get far."
I swirled the wine in my glass, amused. "They thought they could erase me," I murmured, taking a slow sip. "Now they’re the ones being erased."
Ethan’s eyes flicked toward me, dark and unreadable.
"Are you satisfied?" he asked.
I met his gaze, holding it. I wasn’t sure. Not yet. Because there was still one more loose end. Jason.
***
Noah was mine again.
I held his tiny hand in mine, feeling how small and fragile it was compared to my own. His grip tightened, as if he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go. I kneeled before him, brushing his soft brown curls back as he looked at me with teary eyes.
"Mommy…" His voice cracked, guilt and sadness swimming in his big, innocent eyes. "I—I’m so sorry…"
My heart ached at how broken he sounded.
Tears slipped down his chubby cheeks as his lips trembled. "I'm sorry I chose Aunt Lily," he hiccupped. "Aunt Lily told me you didn’t love me. That you hate me because I born. But—" He clutched my dress, his little fingers curling desperately. "I missed you, Mommy. I missed you so much!"
My throat tightened as I pulled him into my arms, hugging him close. His little body trembled against mine, his arms wrapping tightly around my neck. I buried my face into his soft hair, inhaling the familiar scent of my baby boy.
"Shh," I whispered, stroking his back. "It’s okay, my love. Mommy’s here now. And I will never leave you again."
Noah sobbed harder, gripping onto me like a lifeline.
I felt Ethan’s presence behind me—silent, unwavering. I turned my head slightly, locking eyes with him. He didn’t say anything, but the way his gaze softened at the sight of Noah clinging to me made my heart squeeze.
Noah suddenly pulled back, looking up at me with wide eyes. "Mommy… can I call Uncle Ethan ‘Uncle’ for real?" He sniffled, rubbing his little nose. "He saved you, right? He’s like my hero too."
Ethan stiffened beside me.
I turned to look at him. His usually sharp, calculating expression had softened into something almost unreadable. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out at first.
Then, slowly, he crouched down to Noah’s level, resting a firm but gentle hand on his small shoulder.
"You can call me whatever you want, kid... But if you ask me, I think ‘Uncle Ethan’ has a nice ring to it."
Noah’s eyes brightened. "Really?"
"Really."
Noah turned to me, a wide grin forming through his dried tears. "Mommy! I have an Uncle Ethan now!"
I chuckled softly, wiping his face. "Yes, baby. You do."
For the first time in a long time, Noah looked truly happy. But then—I noticed it. The faint purple bruises on his small arm. The way he flinched slightly when I touched his wrist.
My stomach dropped.