My fiancé is a **DIRTY, LYING CHEATER.**
There, I said it.
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One week before our wedding, I was exhausted but glowing.
Grandma—my heart—was on her deathbed, but she used her **entire savings** to help pay for our wedding. She kept saying,
> “Let me see my baby walk down that aisle before I go.”
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I *thought* Michael was the one. Loving. Supportive. Kind.
Spoiler: He was not.
That day, I was heading into my restaurant for a surprise staff check-in. I wasn’t supposed to be working, but something told me to stop by.
Maybe it was intuition.
Maybe it was fate.
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I rounded the corner to the patio entrance…
And *froze.*
**There. He. Was.**
Michael.
Kissing some girl like he’d known her forever. Hands all over her.
Laughing. Whispering. *Kissing.*
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I stormed up. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.
> “W-What are you doing here? I thought you were off today!”
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> “Is *that* what you’re worried about right now?!” I snapped. “How could you?!”
He had the nerve to **roll his eyes.**
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> “C’mon! It’s just one last fling! I’m about to get married, okay? It’s a *guy thing.* Besides, you have no other option but to marry me. You back out now, and your grandma? She won’t survive the shock. You want to *kill* her?! You have no choice.”
Let me repeat what he said:
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> **“YOU HAVE NO CHOICE.”**
Oh, Michael.
You poor, arrogant little fool.
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Because what he didn’t know?
I had a **brilliant plan** already in motion.
See, the night before, my best friend Jenna confessed she’d *heard things*—rumors about Michael and a “side chick.”
So I tested him.
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I told him I’d be gone all day. Then quietly made a few calls.
To my staff. To Jenna. To… a **videographer.**
Yup. The moment I saw him kissing that girl? It was already on tape. My restaurant has **security cameras** everywhere, and Jenna made sure to **record it in HD from a second angle.**
But that wasn’t the best part.
**Wedding day arrived.**
The church was packed. Grandma was wheeled in by my cousin, eyes misty, whispering,
> “You look like an angel.”
Michael stood at the altar, smug in his tuxedo, smiling like nothing was wrong.
I walked slowly, in full dress, veil and all.
But I didn’t stop at the altar.
Instead, I turned to the crowd and said:
> “Before we begin, I just want to show you a short *engagement video* my fiancé helped make.”
I nodded.
The lights dimmed.
And **there it was**.
**Michael. Kissing the girl. Grabbing her. Whispering “last fling.”**
Crystal clear on two big screens.
Gasps. Murmurs.
My grandma?
Clutched my hand and whispered,
> “You were right to show them. I’m so proud of you.”
Michael’s face turned white. Then red. Then white again.
He stumbled forward.
> “I can explain!”
I raised a hand.
> “No need. I already found someone better. And unlike you, he respects me. Grandma, meet Liam. The man who helped me put all of this together.”
Liam stepped out from the front row. Handsome. Steady.
He took my hand.
Michael stormed out.
People applauded.
Later, we all gathered—me, Liam, Grandma, Jenna, friends, staff—and had the **most epic wedding dinner** ever held in a restaurant parking lot.
Laughter. Music. Dancing.
And guess what?
**Grandma said it was the best wedding she’d ever attended.**
Michael thought I had no choice.
Turns out, I just had no reason to keep a **cheater**.
And every choice in the world…
To make my *own* ending.