My Younger Sister Took My Fiancé — But I Got the Last Word at Her Wedding
When Paige’s sister betrayed her by stealing her fiancé, it wasn’t enough to just take him—Erica wanted to show off her win. A year later, a wedding invitation arrives. Erica’s marrying Stan—the man she stole—and she wants Paige to be there and witness it. But Erica has no idea that Paige has her own plan. And by the end of the night, the bride’s dream day will lie in ruins.
I wasn’t supposed to be at that wedding.
The stares, the murmured comments, the awkward smiles—they all made that clear the moment I walked into the grand ballroom.
To be fair, the venue was spectacular. Golden accents, ivory linens, and crystal chandeliers—Erica really went all out. But no amount of glitz could hide the rot underneath.
This wasn’t just any wedding.
This was her wedding.
Erica—my younger sister, our parents’ forever favorite. The one who got handed everything while I worked for every scrap. And now she had taken the one person I trusted most.
Stan—my fiancé.
Until I walked in one night and found him with Erica in our bed.
He looked ashamed.
She looked triumphant.
“I won, Paige,” she said, her smirk like a slap. “Checkmate.”
The wedding I had spent months planning collapsed. Erica and Stan didn’t even need to hide anymore—they flaunted it. So I left town, picked up the pieces, adopted a cat, and moved on.
Sort of.
Then the invitation came.
A year later, there I was, standing in the middle of their big day—an “honored guest.” But I wasn’t there to cry or feel sorry for myself.
I came to make sure Erica would never forget what she did.
The ceremony blurred past me. Stan, polished in his tux, looked at her like she was his whole world. She beamed like she’d claimed her prize.
I sipped champagne and waited.
At the reception, as laughter echoed and wine flowed, a slideshow played—soft music, dreamy photos, their smiles wide and carefree.
Then I made my move.
I reached the laptop connected to the projector and plugged in my flash drive.
Click.
Stan’s voice boomed from the speakers.
“Please, don’t leave me!”
Gasps.
There he was—caught on a grainy security camera—begging for forgiveness. Crying. Saying Erica meant nothing. Saying I was his real love.
More footage.
Him and Erica sneaking into my house. Laughing in my bed.
“Paige who?” he joked.
More gasps. A glass shattered somewhere behind me. My parents looked like they’d been punched in the stomach.
Erica, pale and trembling, stammered for control.
“Dinner will be served—just sit down, please!”
Then Stan turned to her, furious.
“You said you deleted the videos!”
I smiled sweetly. “You knew about the cameras? Oh, Stan…”
He went stiff.
The guests were no longer whispering—they were staring, judging, disgusted.
And then—
“Paige.”
I turned.
Jack stood there, tall and calm, his waiter’s uniform perfectly in place. He’d insisted on coming with me, blending into the staff so he could support me quietly, just in case.
Now, he walked forward, the crowd parting around him like water.
He knelt.
Pulled out a ring box.
“I’ve waited long enough,” he said, loud and clear. “Paige, will you marry me?”
The room froze.
Erica shrieked.
“You can’t be serious! THIS IS MY DAY!”
I turned to her, smiled gently.
“You stole my fiancé and my wedding. I just returned the favor—and took back the spotlight.”
Then Jack and I walked out hand-in-hand, leaving Erica in the wreckage of her perfect day.
Later that night, we sat in a 24-hour diner, still dressed like we’d stepped off a runway, sharing fries and laughs in a vinyl booth.
Jack reached across the table, eyes warm.
“I meant it, Paige. I love you. I’ll wait as long as you need.”
“You picked the perfect moment,” I whispered.
And for the first time in forever—I felt like I had truly won.
