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All the guests stand by, holding their breath. Everyone is silent. The brunette grabs him by the arm, and drags him away.
“Let’s go, Erik! Come on!”
Erik glares at me, and I let him see the promise of pain in my eyes. Oh, yes. Erik is definitely going to be hearing from me, and soon.
I don’t lose my time watching him walk out. My eyes turn towards the altar where the priest has his arm around Charlotte, who is staring
blankly at me. There is nothing in her eyes. Obviously, she’s shocked.
I move towards her with determined strides, each step strengthening my resolve for what I am about to do. The analytical part of me knows that this will have dire consequences, but I would be damned if I let Charlotte be humiliated in front of this huge gathering.
I march up to the altar, facing the woman I haven’t seen in ten years, and say, “Marry me.”
2
Charlotte
“Marry me?”
The words echo in my brain as I stare at the man in front of me.
What is he saying? Why is he saying that?
My whole world has been rocked and I feel everyone’s eyes on me, and my body feels cold and numb. I take a step back, bumping into Agatha, who is also staring at her brother.
“Philip?” she shouts over my shoulder.
Philip.
I want to run away and curl up in a corner somewhere and just cry. Hide myself in a place where the world can’t see me.
Philip’s hands grasp mine, as if sensing my desire and holding me here. His deep blue eyes don’t shift from mine.
“Marry me, Charlotte.”
Desperate, confused, and heartbroken, I look around and see all the guests staring at me. Some of them are looking sympathetic, some are hiding their smirks, some are just enjoying the drama. Nobody from Erik’s side left except for Madison.
I feel my head grow light. Philip tightens his grip on my hands, and he leans forward and whispers close to my ear, “This is the best revenge you can get on that bastard, Charlotte. Do not break!”
His words are a command, no doubt or hesitation in his voice, and I see Agatha nod in my peripheral vision. Trapped between the siblings who are offering me their strength, I look over to the priest, who looks troubled, but nods, his voice low when he speaks.
“It can be done. I can have the marriage licenses prepared immediately after the wedding if you can spare someone—”
Agatha steps up.
“I’ll go. I have all their information.”
The priest murmurs something to her that I can’t make out. My mind stopped working. Agatha disappears and the priest makes a brief fuss, asking everyone to hush down and let the ceremony continue.
It is a short and curt ceremony. I’m in a daze, only Philip’s hands holding me still.
Throughout the ceremony, Philip holds eye contact with me. When he senses me trembling, he tightens his grip so hard that I know, in the back of my mind, his fingers will leave their mark on me for days.
I don’t notice when the ceremony ends. Philip’s mouth barely grazes mine.
There is an awkward silence from the guests until one of them, a familiar face, stands up and starts clapping and hooting, screaming, “Way to go, Charlotte!”
The rest of the people sitting on the left side, take their cue from her. My body is limp against Philip’s as the priest announces, “I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. McCoy.”
