I thought my father’s will would secure my future. Then the lawyer read a name I didn’t recognize. My grandmother’s fury was immediate. Who was Brenna, and why did my father leave her everything? And what secret was behind it?
My life used to always be governed by rules. Every morning, a strict voice echoed through the house.
“Sit up straight, Mona. Don’t slouch. A lady always keeps her composure.”
That was Loretta—my grandmother, my guardian, my shadow. After my mother died, she took over, raising me in her grand image.
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Everything had to be perfect. My grades, my posture, and even the way I folded napkins. It was exhausting, but I tried. I always tried.
When my father passed away, Loretta quickly turned her focus to what mattered most to her. Control. But I remember the day my life changed. We were sitting in the lawyer’s office.
“You’ll invest the money wisely, Mona,” she had said that morning, already outlining how we would rebuild the family’s legacy. “Your father worked hard for this.”
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I believed her. For years, Loretta’s confidence had been unshakable, her plans infallible. So, as we sat in that cold office with its stale coffee, I felt sure of my future.
“As per your father’s wishes,” he lawyer, glancing at the will, “his estate and money will go to Brenna.”
“Who!?” The word escaped my lips before I could stop it.
The lawyer paused. “Brenna is your father’s other daughter.”
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“Sister? I… I have a sister?”
“Impossible!” Loretta’s sharp voice ricocheted off the walls. “This must be a mistake! My son couldn’t leave everything to some stranger!”
“It’s no mistake, ma’am,” the lawyer said. “Your son provided clear instructions. Brenna inherits the house, accounts, and stocks.”
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“What?” Loretta’s voice rose to a shrill pitch. “You’re telling me that child, someone we don’t even know, takes it all?”
I barely heard them. A sister. A sister I never knew existed. Loretta’s hand gripped mine, pulling me back.
“We’ll fix this, Mona. We’ll find this Brenna and make sure she does what’s right.”
Her words felt suffocating, but I nodded. Defying Loretta had never been an option.
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***
In a few days, I arrived at Brenna’s house due to Grandma’s instructions. The small house leaned slightly to one side, its peeling paint flaking like sunburned skin.
The front door creaked open before I even knocked, and Brenna stood there, smiling wide. Her arms hung loosely at her sides, her fingers twisting together in a rhythm that seemed more instinct than thought.
“Hi!” she said, her voice bright, almost musical. “I saw you coming. Did you park by the mailbox? It’s wobbly. I keep meaning to fix it, but…”
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She trailed off, her eyes darting to the corner of the doorframe. She tapped it three times with her knuckles.
“Uh, yeah,” I replied awkwardly. “I’m Mona. Your sister.”
“Come in!” she interrupted, stepping aside but not making eye contact. “Watch the floorboard near the kitchen. It squeaks.”
Inside, the house smelled faintly of clay and earth. The narrow hallway opened into a kitchen dominated by a long workbench covered in half-finished pottery pieces, jars of paint, and tools I didn’t recognize.
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Brenna rearranged a set of mismatched vases on the windowsill three times, muttering under her breath before nodding in satisfaction.
Then she turned back to me, her smile returning as if nothing had happened. “You’re my sister.”
“Yes,” I said slowly, unsure how to navigate her openness. “Our father… He passed away recently.”
Her smile didn’t falter. “What’s it like? Having a dad?”
“It’s… hard to say. He was kind. He cared. We were friends.”
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She nodded, her fingers twitching against her thighs. “I never met him. But I have his hands.” She held up her palms, showing faint traces of clay. “Mom always said so. Big hands, like him.”
Her sincerity was disarming. I’d expected resentment or at least suspicion, but instead, she radiated a quiet acceptance.
“Dad left me a gift,” Brenna said.
“A gift?” I repeated. “That’s… nice.”
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“Yes. He called it that. In the letter from the lawyer. Did he leave you a gift too?”
I hesitated, Loretta’s biting words ringing in my ears. “Not really. He didn’t…”
“That’s strange. Everyone should get a gift.”
I smiled. “Maybe.”
“You should stay for a week,” Brenna said smiling. “You can tell me about him. What he was like. What he liked to eat. What his voice sounded like.”
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“A week?” I asked, startled. “I don’t know if…”
“In return,” she interrupted, “I’ll share the gift. It’s only fair.” Her hands were twisting together as she waited for my response.
“I don’t know if I have much to say about him,” I said, though even as the words left my mouth, I felt the pang of their untruth. “But… okay. A week.”
Her face lit up. “Good. We can have pancakes. Only if you like them, though.”
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She turned back to her workbench, humming softly. I knew what her so-called “gift” was. At that moment, Loretta’s plan seemed simple. Too simple. But Brenna’s kindness was already complicating everything.
***
That week at Brenna’s house, I felt like stepping into a parallel universe, one where the world spun slower and expectations melted away. Everything about her life was so unlike mine.
Breakfast was no longer a croissant from the corner bakery paired with a sleek latte. Instead, it was simple—bacon, eggs, and a mug of tea served on paper plates.
“Easier this way,” Brenna said one morning. “No big cleanup. Time saved is time for pottery.”
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She had a way of saying things so directly, without the filters most people wore. It was disarming.
But her habit of setting and resetting the plates on the porch rail, always ensuring they were aligned right, made me watch her closely. Each ritual told a story.
“Let’s walk to the lake,” she suggested after breakfast on my second morning.
She slipped out of her sandals, leaving them neatly by the porch steps, and stepped into the grass barefoot.
“It’s better like this.”
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Dew clung to the grass, cold and sharp against my feet, as I followed her. She led the way, occasionally pausing to touch the leaves or to rearrange a small pile of stones along the path.
Those small, deliberate actions seemed to calm her like they were as necessary as breathing.
At the lake, she crouched by the edge, dipping her fingers into the water. “You ever just sit and listen?”
“To what?” I asked, standing stiffly behind her.
“Everything.”
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Brenna’s studio became the heart of our days. The air inside smelled earthy and damp, the scent of clay and creativity.
She handed me a lump of clay on the third day. “Here. Try making something.”
My first attempt was a disaster. The clay slid through my fingers, collapsing into a shapeless blob.
“It’s terrible,” I groaned, ready to throw it aside.
“It’s not terrible,” Brenna’s hands moved gently as she began reshaping the clay, showing me the motions. “It’s just new. New things take time.”
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Her patience amazed me. Even when I spilled water on her workbench, smearing one of her finished pieces, she didn’t scold me. Instead, she carefully cleaned the mess.
Just as I started to relax, finally free from Loretta’s constant control, her calls became more frequent. It was as if she could sense the shift in me, the way I was beginning to breathe a little easier and live a little differently.
That night, her voice came through the line sharp. “Mona, what are you waiting for? This isn’t a vacation! You need to take action. She doesn’t know what to do with that kind of money.”
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I stayed silent, but my grip on the phone tightened. I could feel her impatience boiling over.
“She’s naïve, Mona. You need to convince her to sign it over. If persuasion doesn’t work, then… Well, figure something out. Use her trust if you have to.”
Her words stung because they felt so wrong in Brenna’s world.
“I don’t know, Grandma. It’s not as simple as you think.”
“It’s exactly that simple,” she barked back. “Don’t get distracted by her little quirks. Focus, Mona.”
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I wanted to argue, to tell her that maybe Brenna deserved more than she realized, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I mumbled something vague and ended the call. For the first time in my life, I started questioning my own motives.
***
The following day, Loretta arrived unannounced, her sharp presence tearing through the peace like a storm. Her heels clicked on the uneven floor as she stepped into the house.
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“This is where you’ve been hiding?” she snapped, her eyes darting over Brenna’s neatly cluttered pottery studio. “How can you stand this mess, Mona? And you,” she turned to Brenna, “you have no right to what’s been given to you.”
Brenna froze, her hands trembling as she rearranged vases on the workbench, muttering, “Gift, gift,” under her breath.
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Loretta ignored her, turning to me. “Mona, end this nonsense. She doesn’t deserve your father’s legacy. She’s…” Loretta’s voice grew venomous, “not like us.”
“Gift,” Brenna said louder, pointing toward a small cabinet in the corner. Her rocking grew more pronounced, her fingers twisting at her apron.
I hesitated but opened the cabinet. Inside was a stack of old letters, their edges worn and faded. Each one was addressed to my father. My breath caught.
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“What are those?” Loretta demanded.
“These are from Brenna’s mother,” I said, flipping through them. “Did you know?”
Loretta paled, but then her face hardened. “I did what I had to! Do you think I’d let some woman trap my son with a broken child? When she came looking for him, I told her to stay away. I refused to let her and her daughter become part of this family.”
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Her words were cruel, and Brenna clung to the table, her wide eyes fixed on Loretta.
“You destroyed this family,” I said, my voice trembling. “You never even told him he had another daughter.”
Loretta’s bitter laugh filled the room. “He found out! That’s why he changed his will. And now you’re letting her take everything!”
“Dad left a gift,” Brenna said softly. “He wanted me to have it.”
“This isn’t about money, Grandma. And I won’t let you take anything else from her.”
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Loretta stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
I turned to Brenna. “I’m so sorry. I love you, sis.”
“Do you want pancakes?” she suddenly asked as if nothing happened.
“Oh, I really do!”
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We ate on the porch as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in soft hues. From that day, we started building a life together.
I helped Brenna grow her pottery studio. We repaired the house, filled it with flowers, and I rediscovered my love for painting by decorating her creations.
Word spread, and soon people came from other towns to buy our work. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was ours. For the first time, I wasn’t living to meet someone else’s expectations. I was living for us—Brenna and me.
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I Served a Rich Couple on a Plane, Next Day My Mom Introduced Me to Her Young Fiancé from the Same Plane — Story of the Day
Kristi tended to a rich couple in business class who were very affectionate with each other. The next day, she was shocked to discover the same man engaged to her mother. Kristi knew she had to act, but had no idea what she was about to unleash.
High above the clouds in the business class part of a commercial plane, Kristi, in her crisp flight attendant uniform, walked the aisle with practiced grace.
She stopped by a couple nestled by the window, absorbed in their private world. The man, in a sharply tailored suit, presented a small velvet box to the woman, whose eyes lit up like the 4th of July.
As he opened it, a delicate necklace gleamed, its stones scattering prismatic colors across their seats. Kristi’s eyes widened, and she paused her rounds for a second.
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“May I, my gorgeous Isabella?” the man whispered to his companion, excitement coloring his voice. The woman nodded, her cheeks blushing as she lifted her hair for him to clasp the necklace.
“That’s a lovely shade of lipstick,” the woman said, turning her attention to Kristi with a warm smile.
Flustered and touched, Kristi touched her lips. “Thank you, it’s my favorite,” she replied, stuttering at being caught snooping.
The man smiled up at Kristi, offering her a generous tip. “Thank you for making this flight special,” he said sincerely.
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“It’s my pleasure. Enjoy your journey together,” Kristi responded, her heart fluttering as she moved on, the couple’s joy lingering in her mind.
***
The next day was her only day off that weekend, and Kristi had promised to visit her mother. Upon arriving, the older woman grabbed her arm and introduced her to Edwin, her new fiancé.
Except, he was none other than the man from the plane who had given another, younger woman a beautiful diamond necklace. Kristi’s shock froze her, but she schooled her expression.
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“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kristi. Your mother has told me so much about you,” Edwin said smoothly, offering his hand as if they had never met.
“Nice to meet you too,” she replied cautiously, playing along for her mother’s sake.
Edwin then took over the kitchen, whipping up a meal with the flair of a seasoned chef. “It’s my way of showing care,” he explained, serving dishes with ease.
As they ate, Edwin regaled them with stories from his travels, yet he only responded vaguely when Kristi probed further into his past.
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It only made things worse, but she wasn’t sure what to say to her mother. Could she be wrong about him?
After dinner, Kristi decided to take her mother outside, hoping the air would clear her mind.
***
The cool breeze of the terrace was exactly what she needed before asking some tough questions. “Mom, what do you really know about Edwin?” Kristi asked carefully.
“He’s wonderful. A billionaire, a diamond tycoon’s son. He’s shown me such a glamorous life,” her mother replied, eyes shining. “We’ll be married in just a few days!”
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“Mom, I know this is going to sound strange, but I swear I saw him on a recent flight with another woman, now suddenly he’s with you and getting married,” Kristi pressed.
Her mother frowned. “Why are you lying? Can’t you be happy for me? Edwin loves me. You just don’t want me to be with another man after your father’s death.”
“That’s not it! Doesn’t his quick move seem odd?” Kristi argued.
“Odd? No, it’s romantic. You’re too young to understand. Edwin is all about love,” her mother shook her head.
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Kristi sighed. “Mom, please think about it. He could be a scammer. That act on the plane… he’s like a Casanova.”
“Scammer? Kristi, that’s ridiculous. Edwin is a good man!” her mother defended.
“I just don’t want to see you lose everything to a man we barely know,” Kristi said, desperately trying to make her understand.
But at that moment, Edwin appeared, drinks in hand.“Ladies, let’s celebrate,” he said cheerfully, and Kristi’s mother excused herself for a second.
Kristi frowned at Edwin once they were alone and couldn’t hold back any longer.
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“How can you manipulate my mother’s feelings?” she demanded, exposing everything she saw him doing on the plane.
Edwin’s smile faltered. “Kristi, I only want your mother’s happiness. No need for hostility.”
She scoffed and poured a drink over his head. “You think you’re clever, but I see through you. I won’t let you hurt my mother,” she declared firmly. “You’re a fraud!”
Her mother appeared, and her eyes bulged at the orange slice that was still dripping from Edwin’s face. “Kristi, how could you? Edwin, I’m so sorry…”
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Edwin reassured her. “It’s alright. Let’s not let this ruin our evening.”
Kristi’s frown deepened as her mother tended to the scammer, and she realized there was no way to win that night. Still, she knew she had to prove Edwin’s true nature to protect her mother.
It would just take some time.
That’s when she remembered an important detail from the day of the flight where she saw Edwin…and Isabella.
***
Kristi paced outside the airline office, gathering her courage before entering. At the front desk, a cheerful representative greeted her. “Good morning! How can I assist you today?”
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“I need to see the passenger list from my last flight. It’s important,” Kristi said, stumbling over her words.
“That’s confidential. May I ask why you need it?” the representative asked, her brow furrowing.
Kristi tried to hide her nervousness as she said, “A passenger left something valuable. I want to help return it.”
“Okay, I can’t show you the list, but I can help if you give me more details,” the representative said, leading Kristi to a private office.
Once seated, Kristi explained that a passenger named Isabella lost her jewelry and was talking about it as they disembarked.
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The representative confirmed the Lost & Found department had received Isabella’s missing item report, and they had, in fact, found the jewelry.
“Could I return it to her myself? It might mean more coming from someone who was on the flight,” Kristi asked.
After signing a release form, Kristi received Isabella’s jewelry and contact details. She called the strange woman, arranging to meet the next day in a hotel lobby.
***
Kristi approached Isabella, the same woman Edwin was affectionate with on her last flight, in a beautiful hotel coffee shop and was recognized immediately.
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“You were the flight attendant on my last trip, weren’t you?” Isabella asked, surprised.
“Yes, that was me. It’s a small world.”
Kristi went right into it, telling her about Edwin, her suspicions, and everything else she knew. The young woman frowned, frustrated.
“I knew something was off. Edwin asked me for a large sum of money for an emergency. I trusted him, and I’m supposed to meet him soon to give it to him,” Isabella revealed, leaning back and crossing her arms.
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Kristi told her that was their chance to expose him. “We can set up a scenario to catch him. We’ll record everything. I’ll disguise myself; he won’t recognize me,” she planned.
Isabella agreed, and they spent the next hour devising their strategy, focusing on every detail and potential reaction from Edwin.
As Kristi left the coffee shop, she felt nervous but resolved. The plan was set, and together, they were going to save her mother.
***
In a dimly lit upscale restaurant where Isabella had arranged to meet Edwin and give him the money he asked for, the young woman waited, twirling her wine glass.
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Meanwhile, Kristi was disguised as a waitress and watched from across the room as Edwin entered confidently and greeted Isabella.
“Isabella, my dear, sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, sitting down.
Kristi approached their table to take their order, and Isabella played along perfectly, suggesting they celebrate with red wine.
“Excellent choice,” Edwin agreed, keeping his eyes on Isabella. Kristi quickly brought the wine, her heart racing with each step.
“That’ll be all, thank you,” Edwin said, looking only briefly at Kristi. It wasn’t enough to notice who she was. His attention quickly turned back to his date.
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As they sipped their wine, Isabella suggested that instead of giving him money, she could give him a gift, something more tangible like jewelry as he had been so generous to give her diamonds.
Intrigued, Edwin pulled out his phone to show her some options, from Cartier and Rolex watches to designer clothes.
As soon as his phone was on the table, Kristi saw her chance. She pretended to refill their wine glasses and accidentally spilled some on Edwin’s shirt.
“Damn it! My shirt!” he exclaimed, jumping up in irritation.
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“It’s just an accident, Edwin. Let’s not make a scene,” Isabella calmed him, giving Kristi a discreet nod.
Kristi apologized profusely, then hurried away, claiming she needed to fetch club soda and napkins.
She had swapped Edwin’s unlocked phone during the commotion with a temporary decoy, and rushed to the restroom to check the real phone.
After searching for a few minutes, Kristi discovered Edwin’s active dating profile and flirtatious messages similar to those he’d sent her mother.
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Not the undeniable proof she hoped for, but troubling all the same. Therefore, Kristi started typing a message, making a last-ditch effort to trap Edwin.
Suddenly, a knock startled her. “I know you’re in there with my phone! Come out now!” Edwin shouted from outside.
“I’m calling the police!” he declared, his voice stern and urgent.
Kristi stood, phone in hand, heart pounding. She opened the stall door to face Edwin in a tense standoff. He lunged for the phone, but Kristi dodged him.
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“Stay back!” she warned, her back against the cold restroom wall.
“Give me my phone, or you’ll regret it!” Edwin cornered her, his hand reaching out. Kristi screamed, hoping someone would come to her aid and bracing for what might happen next.
***
In a sterile police station, Kristi sat under the cold glare of fluorescent lights.
“You’re lucky Mr. Edwin hasn’t pressed charges,” a stern officer warned, “Consider this your only warning.”
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Kristi nodded, her voice small. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Good intentions don’t always lead to good actions,” the cop replied before walking away.
Just then, her mother burst through the doors, her face etched with disappointment. “Kristi, this isn’t the daughter I raised,” she declared, her voice thick with emotion.
“Mom, I was trying to protect you from Edwin,” Kristi explained, looking down.
“Protect me by breaking the law?” her mother retorted sharply. “You’ve gone too far.”
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An officer intervened. “Mr. Edwin had filed a restraining order. Any further actions will lead to arrest.”
Kristi closed her eyes, but her mother didn’t give her any reprieve.
“I don’t want to see you anymore. Learn from this. Goodbye, Kristi,” the older woman said before leaving.
***
Kristi returned to the same hotel where she had met Isabella and sat at the lobby bar. While nursing a stiff drink, Isabella slid next to her.
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“I heard about what happened. I’m sorry,” she sighed, linking her fingers on the bar surface.
“Thanks,” Kristi said, half-smiling. “But before everything went down, I changed Edwin’s password on the dating site.”
“That’s brilliant,” Isabella responded, intrigued. “We can use that. Let’s warn the other women.”
Kristi laughed as they logged into Edwin’s dating profile together, crafting many messages to alert his targets.
“Beware of Edwin. He’s not who he claims to be. Protect your heart and your wallet,” Kristi typed steadily.
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Their initial laughter faded into a determined silence as they saw how far this man would go to scam women off their one.
It was late at night when Isabella closed her laptop and squeezed Kristi’s hand.
“And just think, what we’ve started tonight is only the beginning. Edwin has no idea what’s coming for him. Wait until the wedding—it’s going to be unforgettable!”
***
The morning sun cast a golden glow over the city chapel as Edwin, clad in a sharp black tuxedo, prepared to marry Kristi’s mother.
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However, he didn’t know that today was the last time he would ever get away with his Casanova scam.
Kristi watched from the trees, her heart pounding as the ceremony began. Suddenly, an unusual murmur spread through the crowd.
Heels clicked on the floor as one woman, then another, and dozens more converged at the chapel. All were women Edwin had deceived.
A woman in a bright red dress yelled, “Scammer!” Her voice cut through the ceremony’s solemnity.
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Edwin frowned, his confusion turning to horror as he recognized her and others.
“He’s a liar!” shouted another.
“You won’t get away with this!” added a third.
The ceremony descended into chaos. One woman smashed a piece of the wedding cake into Edwin’s face, covering him with cream.
He started fleeing down the aisle, but a guest tripped him, sending him sprawling into a flower bed.
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The women swarmed, using handbags, shoes, and floral arrangements to exact their vengeance, shouting accusations.
The police eventually intervened, clearing the crowd and leading a disheveled Edwin away. As calm returned, the chapel buzzed with hushed conversations and occasional sobs.
Kristi stepped out from her hiding spot just as her mother exited the chapel, tears falling from her face. The older woman shook her head at her and got into a car.
Her mother was too proud to admit she was wrong. But Kristi would wait and give her enough time to grieve. In the meantime, she would make sure Edwin felt the full extent of the law.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: My 18-year-old daughter fell in love with a 60-year-old man and was marrying him against my wishes. She was madly in love with this guy, and I was shocked until I discovered a chilling truth about him.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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