Bed of Betrayal

Three nights before the wedding.
Henry Lucas booked the hottest private room at the downtown bar.
The crystal chandelier's light dazzled my eyes, and the speakers blasted loud dance music.
I was sitting on the corner sofa in an off-white dress, clutching an unopened juice in my hand.
A few of the groomsmen were laughing around the bridesmaids, and someone even reached out to tug at one of the bridesmaid's dresses.
The air reeked of booze and tobacco, making me wrinkle my nose in discomfort.
Susan Lincoln leaned in beside me, wearing a red slip dress with a plunging neckline that was even more eye-catching than mine as the bride-to-be.
"Charlotte, don't be so uptight."
"Look how happy Henry and the others are having fun. Isn't this kind of lively vibe exactly what a wedding should be like before the big day?"
I didn't say anything, my eyes landing on the bridesmaid surrounded in the middle.
That girl is my best friend. She came today just to help me, but right now, she looked really awkward.
Suddenly, the fattest groomsman, Peter, grabbed the bridesmaid's wrist and yanked her roughly into his arms.
"Let's keep to the rules. The wedding prank is meant to bring joy! Let us have a bit of fun, so Henry and his bride can have a smooth, happy life!"
Peter's voice was full of mockery, and with his other hand, he tried to wrap around the bridesmaid's waist.
The bridesmaid's face turned pale as she struggled fiercely, "Don't do this! Let me go!"
I immediately stood up, hurried over, yanked Peter's hand away, and shielded the bridesmaid behind me.
"Don't go too far. This isn't a joke—she's my friend."
Peter sneered indifferently, then shouted toward the bar, "Henry, look at your wife getting so worked up! It's just a joke—why take it so seriously?"
Henry was leaning against the bar, talking to someone. When he heard the shout, he walked over holding his glass, frowning with a hint of impatience.
I thought he'd have my back—after all, I'm his bride-to-be. My friend was being bullied, and there was no way he'd just stand by and do nothing.
But instead, he looked at me with obvious blame in his voice: "Charlotte, we're just trying to liven things up. They're all my friends; don't make me lose face."
He reached out to pat Peter on the shoulder, trying to smooth things over, "Peter was just messing around with the bridesmaids, nothing more."
Susan quickly came over, tugging my arm: "Yeah, Charlotte, these are traditions passed down from our elders. It's a blessing, so don't kill the vibe for everyone. Look, Henry didn't say anything. If you get this worked up, people will just think you're being petty."
I looked at Henry; his eyes were full of unspoken expectation, as if telling me to read the room. Then I glanced at Peter, wearing a smug grin, and at Susan with her fake, insincere smile.
A rush of anger exploded inside me, burning from my chest all the way up to my throat.
I raised my hand without hesitation and slapped Peter's face hard.
Everyone froze, and the private room went completely silent.
Peter covered his face, stunned for a few seconds, then his eyes bloodshot as he shouted at me, "You f*cking dare hit me?!"
Henry's face turned cold. He stepped forward and grabbed my wrist so hard it hurt. "Charlotte! Are you insane? Do you even know what you're doing?"
"Insane?"
I yanked my hand free and stared right at him. "You're the one who's crazy—taking others' humiliation as celebration, calling vulgarity tradition, and treating bullying like a joke!"
I pointed at Peter, my voice shaking uncontrollably: "He groped my friend, and you say he was just messing around; I stood up for my friend, and you say I'm disrespectful? Henry, do you even know what's right and wrong?"
Susan tried to calm me, reaching out to grab my hand: "Charlotte, don't be mad. Peter didn't mean it. Just apologize to him and let's move past this."
"Apologize?" I sneered, shrugging off her hand, "He's the one who should apologize!"
I ignored them, grabbed my bag from the sofa, took out my phone, and called my dad right there in front of everyone.
The moment the call connected, I took a deep breath and said firmly, "Dad, I'm not marrying Henry Lucas anymore."
My dad's voice came through, full of shock: "Charlotte? What's going on? Why are you suddenly backing out when everything was fine?"
Henry saw what was happening, rushed over, trying to grab my phone, yelling, "Charlotte, don't make a scene! We can sort this out privately—don't tell your dad!"
I stepped aside to dodge him and said into the phone, "Dad, I've made up my mind. I'm marrying Chris Lucas. Let's set it today. Please tell the Lucas family."
After I finished speaking, I didn't wait for my father to say anything else and hung up immediately.
The private room fell completely silent; everyone stared at me, their eyes full of surprise, confusion, and pity.
Henry's face flushed dark red as he pointed at me, struggling to get out a complete sentence: "Charlotte... you... you're really going to marry my brother Chris? Was this on purpose?"
I grabbed the bag from the sofa and turned to leave, not wanting to say another word to him.
As I reached the door, I glanced back.
Susan was holding Henry's arm, standing on tiptoe to whisper something in his ear. Her eyes locked on me, filled with emotions I couldn't quite read—pride, and a hint of defiance.
I didn't overthink it, pushed the door open, and stepped into the night outside.
The evening breeze cooled the heat on my face, but the pain in my heart only grew sharper.

The next morning, I went back to the bridal suite that Henry and I had decorated together.
I pushed the door open; the living room light was off, and the heavy curtains were drawn tight, making the room dark.
A strange perfume mixed with a faint scent of alcohol drifted in—not my brand and glaringly harsh.
My heart sank suddenly, hit by a bad feeling.
I stepped quietly, heading toward the bedroom.
The bedroom door wasn't fully closed, left ajar just enough to let faint, suggestive breathing and a woman's soft laughter slip through.
That voice—I knew it all too well. It was Susan Lincoln.
I clenched my fists, nails digging deep into my palms, the sting bringing me back to a sharper reality.
I slammed the door open.
The two on the bed spun around in panic, frantically yanking the blanket over themselves.
It was Henry and Susan.
Henry's hair was messy, stuck to his forehead, and there were still a few red marks on his chest; Susan's pajamas had slipped off her shoulder, exposing a large patch of pale skin, her face still flushed.
When he saw me, Henry's eyes briefly flashed with panic before turning defensive, even a little annoyed at the interruption.
He threw back the covers and got out of bed, wearing only his underwear. He came up to me and said casually, like it was nothing, "Charlotte, what are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me beforehand?"
Susan hugged the blanket tightly, looking utterly wronged. She whispered, "Charlotte, please don't misunderstand. Henry was drunk last night. After drinking too much, he got confused... we... we never meant for this to happen."
I watched them, my stomach twisting, a sick feeling washing over me that made me frown instinctively.
"A misunderstanding?"
I let out a cold snort, didn't look at them, and walked straight over to the wardrobe, opening the door.
"I'm just here to grab my things—won't keep you any longer."
Henry saw this and rushed over, reaching to take my hand. "Charlotte, don't do this. What happened with Susan was an accident. You're the one I love. Please don't shut me out over this."
The moment his hand touched my sleeve, it felt like touching filth—I jerked away sharply and took a disgusted step back.
"Don't touch me, you make me sick."
I didn't look at them again, opened the top drawer of the wardrobe, and started packing my clothes.
I shoved my clothes into the suitcase I brought, moving fast—I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
After packing, I turned to leave but noticed the computer on the desk was still on.
The screen was lit up, showing a chat group called "Henry's groomsmen," with more than a dozen people—all Henry's friends.
The pinned message had been sent by Susan, sometime after 2 a.m. this morning.
One was a video file, the other a message: "Look, this is Henry and Charlotte's wedding bed. But now it's me on the bed! She's a joke—really thinks Henry's gonna marry her?"
My hand froze for a second before I clicked on the video file.
The screen showed the bed from this very room—Henry and Susan, naked, clinging to each other in the grossest way.
Susan laughed at the camera, sneering, "Charlotte, see this? Henry loves me. This bridal suite is mine now."
Below the video, there were tons of disgusting comments.
"Susan's amazing, soon she'll be Mrs. Lucas, so she's gotta watch out for us."
Susan replied in the group chat, "Of course—once I marry Henry, I'll make sure to deal with Charlotte properly. She needs to know who the real winner is. There's no way she can steal my man!"
I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, and started recording the video and screenshotting the chat messages.
Henry saw me taking pictures, his face darkened, and he rushed over, trying to snatch my phone: "Charlotte, what do you think you're doing? Hand over the phone!"
I quickly shoved the phone into my bag, dodged to the side to avoid him, and backed up toward the door. "This is going to come in handy later."
I turned around and walked away from this house full of filth and lies.

On the wedding day, the weather was perfect. I sat in the lounge wearing my pure white wedding dress.
Henry and Susan strolled slowly in through the door.
Henry wore a tailored black suit, his hair slicked back flawlessly, looking all neat and proper.
Susan wore a pink bridesmaid dress, linking her arm with Henry's, a smug smile spreading across her face.
They stood at the door, acting all intimate, and Susan even purposely leaned closer to Henry.
"Henry, after the wedding, want to go out somewhere? I want to go to country M—you promised me before."
Henry lowered his head and whispered something in her ear, making Susan laugh, her whole body trembling with delight.
Henry saw me, and his smile faded. "Charlotte, what exactly do you want? Yesterday you said you wanted to marry my brother Chris. Do you really think my dad would agree? Cut it out. Today's our wedding—hurry up and change, get ready to go on stage."
I said nothing.
Susan came over and deliberately bumped into me with her shoulder.
Then, she screamed, suddenly falling backward, her hands flailing wildly in the air.
"Ah! Charlotte, why did you push me?!"
She hit the ground hard, clutching her stomach with a grimace of pain. "My stomach... it hurts so much..."
Henry saw this and immediately rushed over, shoving me aside.
"Charlotte, you're so cruel! Susan is carrying my child, and you actually pushed her! Were you trying to kill my baby?"
Henry's eyes were red, staring at me like he wanted to tear me apart.
I looked at him. "I didn't push her; she fell all by herself. Everyone here can confirm that."
There were makeup artists and several staff in the lounge; they all froze, too scared to say a word.
"You're still making excuses!" Henry yelled angrily, stepped forward, and raised his hand as if to hit me.
Just then, the lounge door was pushed open, and Chris Lucas and their father Daniel Lucas walked in.
Chris saw Henry about to strike, hurried over, grabbed Henry's wrist, and squeezed hard.
"Henry, what do you think you're doing? Hitting a woman—are you even a man?"
Daniel Lucas's face went pale. Looking at Henry and Susan on the floor, his hands trembled with anger: "This is nonsense! Pure nonsense! Henry, look at yourself!"
"On your wedding day, flirting with another woman and still trying to go after Charlotte—how can you face the Downey family, or even yourself?"
Henry's anger faded when he saw Daniel Lucas, but he still refused to give in, struggling to say, "Dad! Charlotte pushed Susan. Susan's carrying my child. I can't let her suffer!"
Susan quickly added, "Mr. Lucas, this has nothing to do with Charlotte. I tripped on my own. Please don't blame her or Henry. It's all my fault."
As she spoke, she secretly wiped away tears, looking even more pitiful.
Daniel ignored them, his gaze scanning the lounge before finally resting on me: "Charlotte, I'm sorry you've been wronged."
Then he announced to everyone present, "Today's wedding is not between Henry and Charlotte."
Everyone froze, Henry and Susan included.
Daniel went on, "Today's wedding is between my eldest son, Chris Lucas, and Charlotte Downey. I've already discussed it with Mr. Downey. This marriage is final."
Henry stared at his father in disbelief, eyes wide: "Dad! What are you saying? How could you do this to me? Charlotte is my fiancée — she's the one I'm supposed to marry!"
"You did something this shameful, and you still have the nerve to call her your fiancée?"
Daniel Lucas glared at him, his tone cold, "From today on, you're no longer the heir to the Lucas Group. All family assets will now go to Chris."
Henry tried to argue, but two bodyguards in black suits stepped in and grabbed him by the arms, one on each side.
"Let me go! I won't accept this! Charlotte is mine! You can't do this!"
Henry struggled and yelled, his face flushed red, but the bodyguards were too strong—there was no way he could break free.
Susan lay on the ground, her face deathly pale, eyes filled with utter despair. She never expected things to turn out this way—her beautiful dream was completely shattered.
Chris let go of Henry's wrist, came over to me, and gently patted my shoulder, his gaze tender: "Charlotte, don't be afraid. With me around, no one will hurt you."
I looked at him and nodded, the heavy stone in my heart finally dropping. A long-lost warmth slowly spread through my chest.

Everyone in the lounge had already left. The makeup artist and staff quietly slipped away, leaving only me, Chris, Daniel, and Henry and Susan, who were being held by bodyguards.
Daniel looked at us and let out a heavy sigh, his voice dripping with guilt: "Charlotte, I'm really sorry. It's our fault here—Henry wasn't raised right by the Lucas family, and you've been made to suffer so much. Honestly, Chris has liked you for a long time but never found the chance to tell you."
I looked up, stunned, meeting Chris's gaze with eyes full of confusion.
Chris smiled awkwardly, scratching his head, his tone gentle: "Charlotte, do you remember when we were ten, at the amusement park? The old one downtown, before they rebuilt it, with that huge Ferris wheel?"
"I remember. That summer vacation, I went to the amusement park with my parents." I said slowly, "Later, I got separated from them by accident and couldn't find anyone. I just cried under the Ferris wheel."
Chris nodded, his eyes softening, as if lost in thought: "Yeah, that's when I saw you. You're wearing a pink little dress, with two small braids, sitting on the steps, crying so sadly."
I looked at him, and suddenly a thought crossed my mind—a thought I couldn't believe.
Chris kept talking, "I had just come back from abroad and went to the amusement park with my mom. I saw you crying, so I went over and gave you a White Rabbit candy. I even told you I'd help you find your parents."
My eyes lit up instantly. When I was ten, a little boy did come over when I was crying, gave me a candy, and helped me find my parents.
I always thought that little boy was Henry because our families have been close for generations. We used to play together all the time as kids. Now that I think about it, that little boy's voice actually sounds more like Chris's.
I looked at Chris, my voice trembling slightly, and said, "That little boy... was it you?"
Chris nodded, his eyes full of tenderness. "That was me. Back then, I had just come back to the country, barely interacted with you, and you didn't even know who I was. Later, I helped you find your parents. When you left with them, you even glanced back at me and smiled, saying thank you."
He paused for a moment, then continued, "I was going to ask for your contact info, but you walked off so fast. All I remember is you in that pink dress. Later, when I tried to find you again, I heard you were close to Henry. I thought you liked him, so I didn't want to bother you anymore."
Then it hit me— all these years, I've been mistaking someone else, attributing Chris's goodness to Henry.
No wonder I always felt this weird distance from Henry. No matter how nice he was to me, something always felt missing.
No wonder every time I saw Chris, my heart warmed up; and if he was upset, I'd feel sad too.
It turns out that ever since I was ten, the person I've held in my heart all this time is him.
Just then, the lounge door opened again, and my parents walked in.
My mom quickly came over, grabbed my hand, her voice full of worry: "Charlotte, we heard what happened. Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"
I shook my head: "Mom, I'm fine. Chris was there—he protected me."
Mom looked at Chris and nodded with approval: "Chris has always been steady since he was a kid, and he treats you well. Actually, we'd figured out a long time ago that Chris likes you. He kept asking about you, but you never saw it—you thought you liked Henry."
My father also said, "Chris is reliable, way better than Henry. We're relieved you're together, and he'll definitely take good care of you in the future."
Henry was held to the side, but hearing this, he struggled harder and yelled at me, "No way! Charlotte loves me! How could she love Chris? You clearly said you liked me when you were little! And you even kept the doll I gave you!"
He stubbornly broke free from the bodyguard's grip and rushed in front of me, trying to grab my arm. "Charlotte, look at me! You promised to marry me! You can't back out now! You can't just say one thing and mean another!"
Chris quickly stepped in front of me, blocking Henry. "Henry, stop chasing Charlotte. She loves me, not you."
I looked at Henry, my gaze calm—no anger, no disappointment—just relief. "Henry, I never loved you. When I was a kid, I said I liked you because I mistook you for someone else. I thought you were the boy who gave me White Rabbit candy. The one I've always loved is Chris."
Henry stood there stunned, eyes wide with disbelief, as if all his strength had drained away.
"No... this can't be..."
He staggered back two steps, nearly falling, but the bodyguard caught him just in time.
Susan sank to the floor, her face drained of color. She knew her plan had completely failed—she had no chance left.

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