My sister, Megan, always overshadowed me, but stealing my fiancé, Chris, was her cruelest act. I found them in my bed, her “Checkmate” taunt stinging as Chris pleaded. My wedding plans died, and they became a couple. I fled town, mending with a kitten and work, thinking I’d moved on. Then, Megan’s wedding invitation arrived, a dare to see her victory. I attended, not to mourn, but to ensure her betrayal faced consequences she’d never forget.
The venue sparkled, all elegance, but whispers trailed me. I ignored the ceremony, knowing Chris’s love was a sham. Megan radiated smugness, believing she’d won. At the reception, as their love story flashed onscreen, I slid in my flash drive. Chris’s voice echoed: “Megan’s nothing, Paige!” Security footage showed his tearful excuses. Megan froze; silence fell. More clips revealed their secret trysts in my home, mocking me. Guests gasped; a glass shattered.
Megan denied it, but Chris’s guilt was clear. She pushed for dinner, but the mood was broken. Then, Owen, my true partner, emerged from the waitstaff. He’d joined catering to support me, wary of Megan’s spite. Kneeling, he offered a ring. “Marry me, Paige,” he said. Megan shrieked, “Not now!” but I said, “Yes!” Her theft of Chris, a fraud, couldn’t touch Owen’s love. I walked out, her rage fading. In a diner, sharing shakes, Owen said he’d waited for my heart to heal. His proposal was perfect, proving betrayal can’t dim a brighter future.
