Because of an ambiguous photo, I was "betrayed" by my fiancé. Filled with raging fury and a resolute thirst for revenge, I stormed into the engagement banquet he had prepared for me, pointed at the brazen "mistress," and shrieked, "How dare you hit my brother!"
But Johnson merely shielded the woman behind him with a casual gesture, and said to me, "Grace, she's my mother."
In that instant, it felt as though a lightning bolt had struck directly overhead. The surrounding whispers magnified, assaulting me like countless sharp knives, flaying me alive. My cheeks burned with a pain far more intense than any physical slap. I froze completely, the air around me seeming to solidify.
Just days earlier, I, Grace, a popular actress, was basking in the immense joy of my upcoming engagement to Johnson. Then, my agent, trembling, handed me her phone. On the screen was an intimate photo of Johnson with a stunningly beautiful, younger woman – both smiling brightly, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes, unmistakably a couple deeply in love.
My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. I dialed Johnson's number, only for him to ruthlessly hang up on me.
"Who is this slut?!" Flames of jealousy and betrayal roared within me, threatening to consume me whole. I drove to the hotel where Johnson was staying, only to witness an even more sickening scene: the woman, lying in his arms, as Johnson gently stroked her hair with that unique tenderness he had reserved only for me.
I called again, but he offered a few perfunctory, distracted words, utterly unaware that I was standing just outside his window, watching through the glass as he intimately caressed another woman.
"Any woman who dares to touch my man, I will tear her to pieces!" Cold, murderous intent flashed in my eyes, and I swore, "I will make a scene tonight, and make them pay!"
Now, with my team, dressed in magnificent attire, I attended the banquet. The woman I had mistakenly identified as the "mistress" was brazenly displaying the family heirlooms Johnson had given her – an emerald necklace and a deed to a vineyard.
My gaze was a knife, fixed intently on that necklace. Taking a deep breath, a determined, cold smile formed on my lips. Tonight, the "truth" I believed would be exposed by my own hands; a meticulously planned drama of revenge was about to unfold.
But I never imagined that Johnson's secret would, in such a devastating way, turn against all my fury and elaborate schemes.
On the eve of an engagement party, wealthy heir Johnson welcomes his mother, Sarah, home—only for fiancée Grace to mistake her for a mistress, sparking a storm of humiliation. In a glittering ballroom where love, family, and desire collide, who is the true enemy behind this marriage?
