My Sister Stole My Fiancé—So I Ruined Her Wedding in the Best Way Possible!

This Wedding Wasn’t Meant for Me.

I knew it from the way people whispered and stole glances at me as I walked through the grand hall.

I had to admit—the wedding looked beautiful. White and gold decorations filled the space, making everything feel elegant. The guests had arrived in fancy suits and expensive gowns.

It was perfect on the outside. But no amount of beauty could hide the ugly truth beneath.

This wasn’t just any wedding. This was *her* wedding.

**Erica.**

My younger sister. The favorite child. The one who always got everything handed to her while I had to fight for my success.

And now?

She had taken the one thing that was supposed to be mine.

**Stan.**

Stan was my fiancé. He was supposed to be my future. I loved and trusted him—until the night I came home early and found him in bed with my sister.

I still remember the way he froze, guilt all over his face. And Erica? She only smirked, her voice full of pride.

*”I won, Paige,”* she said. *”Checkmate.”*

A month later, I had to cancel the wedding I had spent over a year planning. I lost most of my deposits. And Erica and Stan? They didn’t have to sneak around anymore. They were officially together.

I left town for a while, moving between hotels and working remotely. It took time, but I eventually moved back and got myself a kitten.

Then, the invitation arrived.

And now, a year after it all happened, I was standing here—at their wedding. Invited not as a loved one, but as a reminder of their victory.

I bet my parents made her invite me. If Erica had her way, I wouldn’t be here. Or maybe she *would* have invited me—just to rub it in. That was the kind of person she was.

But what Erica didn’t know—what no one knew—was that I wasn’t here to grieve.

I was here to make sure Erica *never* forgot what she did to me.

And by the end of tonight, she *wouldn’t.*

—

The ceremony blurred by. I stood at the back, barely listening as the officiant talked about love and devotion.

Stan, in his sharp black tuxedo, stared at Erica like she was his world. And Erica? She looked like she had won the greatest prize.

I almost laughed.

*Enjoy it while you can, sweetheart,* I thought, sipping my champagne.

By the time the reception began, the room filled with laughter and clinking glasses. A huge screen played a slideshow of their engagement photos—Stan lifting Erica in the air, their foreheads touching, both smiling.

If you didn’t know their history, you’d think they were truly happy.

And maybe they were. Maybe this was how things were meant to be.

But I wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

Why should *she* get a fairytale ending after all the pain she caused me?

Nope. Not happening.

Tonight, their perfect little dream was about to crumble.

I moved through the crowd, unnoticed. My sleek black dress hugged my body just right. I didn’t look like a guest. I looked like *revenge.* And for the first time in a long time, I felt powerful.

I reached the laptop connected to the projector and plugged in my flash drive. A few clicks, a deep breath, and then…

**Showtime.**

At first, no one noticed. The guests kept chatting and drinking, completely unaware. Erica and Stan smiled as they made their way through the crowd.

Then, Stan’s voice filled the hall.

*”Please, don’t leave me!”*

On the big screen, a grainy video played—a recording from my bedroom security camera. Stan sat on my bed, his face streaked with tears. I stood across from him, listening to his desperate excuses.

*”Erica means nothing to me, Paige! She was a mistake! I love you! I made a huge mistake!”*

Silence filled the room.

I turned to Erica.

Her face had gone completely pale.

Stan, too, was frozen, his hands twitching at his sides.

But I wasn’t done yet.

The video changed to another clip—more security footage. I had cameras in my home for safety, and they had caught *everything.*

Now, on-screen, Erica and Stan sneaked into my house, slipping into my bedroom when they thought I was working late. Timestamp after timestamp. Betrayal after betrayal.

Then, the final blow.

Erica, lying in *my* bed, laughing.

*”She’ll never know…”* she whispered.

Stan laughed with her. *”Paige who?”*

Gasps filled the room. Someone dropped a champagne glass.

*”Oh my God,”* someone murmured.

My mother looked like she might faint. My father’s jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grind.

Then—chaos.

Erica stumbled back, her hands shaking.

*”This… this isn’t real!”* she stammered.

But the proof was right there, playing on the screen for everyone to see.

*”Dinner is ready!”* she blurted, waving her hands. *”Let’s all just eat and enjoy!”*

Stan turned to her, his face dark with rage.

*”Erica, you said you deleted the footage!”*

*”Oh?”* I said sweetly. *”So you *knew* about it? You knew you’d be caught?”*

Stan’s face turned white.

The crowd murmured louder, disgust clear in their eyes.

And then, before Erica could speak, a voice cut through the noise.

*”Paige.”*

I turned.

Jack stepped forward from the crowd.

He wore a crisp white shirt under his black vest—he was dressed as a waiter.

Months ago, when I told Jack what I planned, he insisted on coming with me.

*”Then I’ll be there as a waiter,”* he had said. *”That way, if you need me, I’ll be right there.”*

Now, Jack set down his tray and smiled at me.

His sharp blue eyes met mine. Steady. Reassuring.

I had never been more grateful to see someone in my life.

Then, to my shock, he dropped to one knee.

Gasps filled the hall.

Jack pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it, revealing a stunning ring.

*”I’ve waited long enough to ask you this, my love,”* he said. *”Paige, will you marry me?”*

The room froze.

Erica let out a strangled sound.

*”Are you KIDDING me?!”* she shrieked. *”At MY wedding?! WHY?!”*

She looked ready to explode. But I didn’t feel bad. Not one bit.

I smiled, my heart lighter than it had been in years.

*”Yes!”* I said. *”Yes, Jack! I will!”*

The crowd erupted—some in shock, some in cheers. My mother wiped away tears, this time of joy.

Erica, however, was *furious.*

*”THIS IS MY DAY!”* she screamed, stomping her foot.

I tilted my head, my smile growing.

*”Oh, honey,”* I said sweetly. *”You stole my fiancé and my wedding. I just stole the spotlight.”*

Then, with Jack’s hand in mine, I walked out—leaving my sister humiliated, betrayed, and alone.

Hours later, we sat in a tiny 24-hour diner, still dressed for the wedding but eating greasy fries.

Jack pushed a plate toward me.

*”Eat,”* he said. *”You’ve had a long day.”*

I laughed, taking a fry.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had *won.*