Chapter 4Wearing My Rival's Ring

I ignored their cackling, my brow furrowing in genuine confusion.

“My dress and ring were for my fiancé. Is Blake my fiancé?”

“Hahaha, you wish! But he’s got to want you first!”

“Hey Blake, she’s asking you a question! You gonna marry her or what?”

Blake held up his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, no thanks! Pass! Not just anyone can walk through the doors of my house, you know!”

A fresh wave of laughter.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. In that moment, any lingering trace of affection I might have had for him evaporated completely.

The crowd of onlookers was getting restless.

“I thought her fiancé was coming! Is she just messing with us? I have to pick up my grandson from school!”

“Yeah, what a waste of time. Does she think we have nothing better to do?”

A staff member from City Hall approached me. “Miss, are you getting a license or not? If not, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re holding up the line.”

“Just five more minutes, please. He’s almost here.”

Chloe seemed to finally take pity on me, shooting Blake a disapproving glare. He immediately deflated. She sighed and walked over to me, her voice soft with sympathy.

“Ava, just stop. There’s no point in dragging this out. You’re only going to humiliate yourself further.” Her eyes were wide and earnest. “I know you’ve always wanted to marry Blake, but he doesn’t feel that way about you. Why are you trying to force him?”

She placed a gentle hand on my arm. “A woman needs to have self-respect, Ava. You need your own ambition, your own career. What man could possibly handle this kind of desperation?”

Every word was carefully crafted to sound like advice from a concerned friend, but the subtext was clear: I was a pathetic leech, incapable of standing on my own two feet.

The crowd and the online viewers exploded. The narrative shifted instantly. I was now the other woman, the homewrecker, using manipulative tactics to trap a man who clearly loved someone else.

[She’s a classic psycho ex. Can’t stand to see him happy with someone else.]

[For the love of God, will some man just take this trainwreck off the market? So embarrassing! Didn’t her dad go to jail? Why didn’t they take her too?]

[Chloe is a true class act. A real role model. It’s trash like this that makes things harder for all women!]

Suddenly, Chloe was the icon of the modern, independent woman. I was the clinging vine, a disgrace to my gender. The commotion had grown so large that local news crews had arrived. A reporter shoved a microphone in my face.

“Do you feel that your actions today are setting a bad example for women?”

I knew that saying anything would only make it worse. All I had to do was wait for Ethan, get the license, and end this nightmare.

But they weren’t going to let me go that easily. They started bringing up my family’s bankruptcy, spinning new lies about my father, demanding a full investigation into his taxes, insisting he should never be released.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, a raw egg sailed through the air and splattered across the bodice of my white dress. Then a second, and a third. My gown was streaked with foul-smelling, yellow ooze.

The next thing I knew, an old man was charging at me with a bucket of sludgy water. “You made my grandson late for his own wedding registration!” he screamed, and heaved the contents of the bucket toward my head.

Blake’s only reaction was to pull Chloe back, shielding her from the spectacle.

I braced for the impact, but it never came.

A warm, solid body pressed against mine, shielding me, absorbing the filthy deluge.

I looked up into the sharp, stoic face of Ethan Grant.

“I dare anyone to touch her,” he said, his voice a low growl that cut through the chaos.

“Ethan.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his arms a fortress around me. “I’m here now.”