Chapter 161: The Bride is Actually a Slut!

Isabella's POV

I gripped Aria's wrist firmly, my perfectly manicured nails digging slightly into her skin. "What are you kidding? I have a banquet tonight. Do you want to come?" I said, my voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside me.

Aria's eyes fixed on me. "What do you mean?"

I forced my brightest smile. "I'm saying remember to come to the dinner party. I hope you can come witness the love between us." My voice dropped to a honeyed whisper as I looked directly at Aria. "After all, you and Marcus have a history together. Although it can't compare to the earth-shattering love between him and me."

"Enough," Marcus interrupted sharply, his jaw clenched. "Stop making a scene. Everyone's watching."

The sting of his dismissal hit me like ice water, but I swallowed my humiliation. Years of watching him from the sidelines had taught me patience. I pressed down the rising tide of fury that threatened to crack my composure and nodded gracefully.

"Remember to come," I said to Aria alone, my smile never wavering even as my wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin.

The afternoon dragged endlessly as I stood before my walk-in closet, rejecting dress after dress. Nothing seemed right.

Nothing would overshadow her natural radiance, that effortless beauty that made every man in the room forget to breathe. My hands trembled slightly as I held up a midnight blue gown – sophisticated, elegant, everything she wasn't.

I have to outshine her, I thought desperately. I have to make Marcus see that I'm the better choice.

By the time evening arrived, my nerves were frayed to breaking point. I checked my phone obsessively – no messages from Marcus, no confirmation from Aria. The elegant ballroom I'd reserved felt cavernous and cold despite the warm lighting and carefully arranged flowers.

Where are they? Anxiety clawed at my chest as guests began filtering in, their curious glances making my skin crawl. Are they together somewhere, ignoring my invitation? Are they – no. I won't think about that.

Just as I was reaching for my phone to call Marcus, I saw him enter. Relief flooded through me so powerfully that my knees nearly buckled.

"You're finally here!" I rushed to him, slipping my arm through his with practiced ease. The familiar scent of cold fir and leather should have calmed me, but tonight even his presence felt distant.

He nodded absently, his eyes already scanning the room. The dismissive gesture cut deeper than any insult.

"Who are you looking for?" I couldn't keep the edge from my voice.

"Nothing. Just looking around. Don't overthink it." His response was mechanical, distracted.

How can I not overthink it? The words burned on my tongue, but I bit them back.

Then she appeared.

Aria walked in with Derek, and even I had to admit – she was stunning. The simple elegance of her outfit, the way her silver hair caught the light, the unconscious grace in her movements. I felt something cold settle in my stomach as I watched Marcus's attention shift entirely to her.

No. Not tonight. Tonight is mine.

"Let's go see them," Marcus said, already moving toward her before I could respond.

I nodded mutely, my arm still linked through his as we approached. Every step felt like walking toward my own execution.

"You came," I said to Aria, my voice bright and false.

She nodded, not meeting my eyes, her gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder.

Bitch, I thought, but kept smiling. I discreetly signaled to the server, who appeared instantly with the champagne I'd specifically prepared.

"Aria, since you're here, I won't say much." I lifted my glass, watching as she accepted hers with obvious reluctance. "I just hope you live happily. I don't want to make things difficult for you."

Marcus stared at me in obvious surprise, and I caught Derek's penetrating gaze. Something knowing flickered in his dark eyes that made my skin crawl.

"Don't look at me like that," I said to Derek, forcing a laugh. "I just understand now, that's all. I've simply accepted how things are. No point in fighting the inevitable."

Aria looked equally stunned. "Thank you. Did everyone suddenly change their personality?"

The innocent question hit like a slap, and before I could stop myself, I snapped, "What do you mean by that?"

Careful, Isabella. Don't blow this now.

"I misspoke," I said quickly, smoothing over the crack in my facade.

Aria shook her head and lifted her wine glass directly to her lips. "I wish you both a perfect future," she said, and drank deeply.

Good girl. Drink it all.

"You should drink some too," I said to Derek, offering him a glass.

But Derek didn't take it. Instead, he studied me with those dark, knowing eyes. There was something predatory in his gaze that made my wolf retreat slightly.

"Marcus, come," I said, desperate to break the tension.

He nodded and clinked glasses with me. The officiant called for the newly wed couple, and in front of everyone, Marcus and I drank the ceremonial toast. The champagne tasted like victory and ash.

But even in that moment of triumph, I saw him. Marcus's eyes found Aria again, that hungry, desperate look I'd never seen him direct at me.

Then it happened.

Aria swayed slightly, her face suddenly pale. She stumbled, and Derek was there instantly, catching her in his arms.

"I don't feel well," I heard her mumble, her words slightly slurred.

Derek asked her something – I couldn't hear the words, but I knew what he was saying. Perfect. Everything's going according to plan.

Then they disappeared toward the hotel elevators, Derek supporting her gently.

I smiled. Finally, genuinely smiled.

Marcus would see the photos tomorrow. Aria, compromised and helpless in Derek's arms. Any lingering feelings he harbored for her would die when he realized what kind of woman she really was.

But then the large screen behind the officiant flickered to life.

My blood turned to ice as my own face appeared on the screen – my naked body writhing between two men I barely remembered from my desperate, lonely months before Marcus returned to my life. The raw, explicit footage played for every guest to see.

"What the hell?" someone shouted.

"What's the meaning of this? The bride is actually a slut!"

The room erupted in gasps and horrified whispers. I stood frozen, my champagne glass slipping from nerveless fingers to shatter on the marble floor.

No. No, this can't be happening. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Marcus stared at the screen, his face a mask of disgust and betrayal. The looks on every face in the room – shock, revulsion, cruel amusement – burned into my memory.

Why?