1. Seeing Red

MONIQUE

My heart pounded in my chest as I stood in front of the wedding hall. I was dressed in a fiery red jumpsuit, and I didn't need to be told that my appearance alone was enough to call for attention. Red lipstick adorned my lips, matching the intensity of my emotions, and my red-bottom shoes clicked confidently on the pavement as I steadied my breathing.

I was prepared to walk into the wedding of my ex-husband and ex-best friend, determined to create chaos and make them pay for their betrayal. When I heard they'd be getting married today, everything in me burned with pure rage, and even though I knew I shouldn't be here since it'd hurt me more than it'd hurt them, I couldn't help myself.

Clutching a small can of paint wrapped in an elegant red cloth, I concealed my true intentions from the security at the hall. I knew they'd stop to ask questions if I had walked in with an exposed can of paint, so I wrapped it in a fancy cloth that matched both the color of my jumpsuit and the paint as well.

With a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside. The sight that greeted me only fueled my anger. There they were—Cole Lambert, my ex-husband, and Whitney Jonathan, my ex-best friend—exchanging vows with smiles on their faces.

The bitterness I felt in me escalated, pushing me forward as I made my way towards them. The attention of the guests shifted to me—the woman dressed in red, their curious gazes lingering on me to understand my purpose.

She's Monique, the scorned ex-wife—those who recognized me must have thought so.

As I approached Cole and Whitney, their attention turned in my direction after the murmuring in the hall escalated, and as soon as they saw me, their smiles faltered, replaced by shock and horror.

Cole's voice reverberated through the hall, urgently calling for security, while Whitney's glare bore into my very soul. "Get out of here, you crazy bitch! Don't you dare try anything stupid," she warned, a hint of desperation seeping through.

I relished in their fear and the power coursing through my veins. This was my moment, my opportunity to make them pay for turning my life upside down and continuing theirs like they didn't ruin mine two months ago.

I chuckled darkly, my anger boiling inside me. "Oh, I'm just getting started," I said to her, wearing a wicked smile on my face.

I slowly unwrapped the cloth covering the small paint can in my hand, revealing the bright red paint inside. The gasps from the crowd would fill the air as they realized what I was about to do. At that moment, I didn't care about the consequences or the fact that I was making a scene. All I wanted was for them to feel the pain and humiliation that they had caused me.

Ignoring Cole's frantic pleas and Whitney's threats, I would raise the paint can above my head, ready to splatter it all over the bitch in a white dress.

Without holding back, I threw the red paint over Whitney's wedding dress, watching as it splattered across the pristine white fabric. Gasps of horror fill the air, mingling with Whitney's horrified cry. Cole's rage boiled over, and his eyes burned with fury as he charged toward me. But I won't let him get to me that easily.

With a swift motion, I hurled the paint can toward him, the remaining contents splattering across his crisp white shirt and tuxedo. Pain contorted his face, and he cursed at me, calling me a mad woman. “You despicable, disgusting, good-for-nothing, bitch!” he howled like a raging dog, and I smiled in satisfaction, enjoying the sight of the stress lines that formed on his forehead.

The guests in the hall watched in disbelief as both Cole and Whitney stood before them, covered in paint, with their dream wedding shattered.

Whitney’s eyes were blood red as she stared at me, visibly outraged, but when she moved towards me, attempting to hit me with anger seething in her trembling hands, I intercepted her. I grab her wrist, my grip firm yet decisive, and I strike her instead, giving her a tight slap across the face. She staggered backward, tears welling up in her eyes. A twisted smile plays on my lips, satisfaction coursing through my veins.

Before I could revel in my small victory, I turned to leave, my heart pounding with adrenaline. But as I pivot, my eyes widen in alarm. A horde of reporters had congregated at the door, their cameras raised, capturing every moment. The flashes assaulted my senses, blinding me momentarily, and I froze in shock, unable to move.

I felt trapped, suffocated by the presence of the reporters. There was no easy way out of here, as their cameras remained fixated on me like hunters closing in on their prey. My breathing quickened, and the noises around me became distorted. The murmur of voices became a cacophony, and the camera flashes made me momentarily blind.

I was already thinking I was doomed, until suddenly, a jacket was thrown over my head, engulfing me in darkness. As the jacket covered my face, I instinctively reached out to remove it, only to be met with a pair of strong hands holding me in place.

Panic coursed through my veins as I tried to break free, my heart pounding against my chest like a caged animal.

"Stay calm, Monique," a low, unfamiliar voice whispered in my ear. "We're getting out of here."

The mystery man's strong grip guided me out of the chaotic hall, and to my surprise, the camera flashes that once blinded me had abruptly ceased, and the reporters moved out of the way without protest, allowing us to pass through unhindered.

Who was this man? Why was he helping me?

As we stepped outside, I found myself standing before a sleek, black car with tinted windows. My instinct warned me to be cautious, so I paused, taking a moment to scrutinize him as he stood beside me.