He wanted me to go just so he could mock me, to show that he had “succeeded” and I had failed.
Perfect.
I accepted.
The wedding day was held at the most luxurious hotel in Tagaytay. All the guests wore gala dresses and designer suits.
Marco was already at the altar waiting for the bride.
When I arrived at the entrance, I heard the murmurs:
“Is that the ex-wife? The poor one?”
“She probably came just to eat for free at the banquet.”
“Why did Marco even invite her?”
Marco gave a scornful smile when he saw me walking toward the entrance. He surely thought I came alone, badly dressed, and defeated.
But suddenly…
BROOOOM.
The roar of an engine made everyone turn.
A black, gleaming Rolls-Royce Phantom stopped right in front of the red carpet. Behind it, two armored SUVs full of bodyguards.
Marco’s eyes widened.
The music stopped.
The chauffeur got out and opened my door.
I stepped down wearing a custom-made red gown from Paris, with a diamond-covered necklace. My shoes were Louboutin.
The “poor” Liza now looked like a queen.
But that wasn’t all.
I opened the other door of the car.
“Come down, my loves,” I said tenderly.
Two five-year-old girls got out. Twins. They wore identical silk white dresses.
Their faces… were the exact reflection of Marco.
The eyes, the nose, the whole face. There was no doubt.
We walked along the red carpet. The sound of my heels struck like a hammer in everyone’s chest.
As we approached the altar, the guards tried to stop us, but Tiffany’s father signaled them to let us through: he recognized me as his business partner.
Marco was pale. On the verge of fainting.
“Liza?” he stuttered. “W-Who are those girls? And where did you get that car?”
I didn’t answer him.
I looked at Tiffany, who had just arrived, completely confused.
I approached her, holding my daughters’ hands.
“Tiffany,” I said loudly so everyone could hear, “I’m here because this man invited me to humiliate me. But I actually came to save you.”
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