From the start, I knew this wedding would be the perfect backdrop to reveal a secret. Greg thought he had it all figured out, yet he didn’t know, I was the one holding the detonator.

My wedding with Greg looked like something straight out of a fairytale. Greg stood at the altar, beaming. To him, it marked the beginning of our perfect life. But to me, it was the end of a beautiful lie.

The reception played out like a dream—champagne toasts, laughter floating across the lawn, his parents acting like the perfect in-laws.

And me? I played my part to perfection.

Smiling, even dancing with Greg as if everything were fine. But inside, I was just waiting for the right moment to drop the bomb.

When the night wore on, Greg grew more eager for our wedding night. His hands lingered too long, his eyes shined with anticipation. But I was focused on my own plan.

After the guests left and his parents retreated to the guest rooms downstairs, Greg led me to the master suite—gifted to us by his parents for our first night as husband and wife. He closed the door, and the air in the room instantly shifted.

He approached me slowly, hands on my wedding dress. “I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he whispered against my neck.

“So have I,” I replied with a smile.

He carefully unzipped my dress.

When the fabric hit the floor and I turned around, I watched as his entire world collapsed in front of me.

Stretching across my torso was a temporary but incredibly realistic tattoo—the face of Sarah, his ex-girlfriend, with the words he had told her the night before our wedding:

“One last taste of freedom before being stuck with the same body forever.”

Greg dropped to his knees. “No… this isn’t happening…”

“How did you know?” he stammered.

“Sarah couldn’t wait to shove your betrayal in my face,” I replied coldly. “So I made sure you’d never forget it.”

Footsteps echoed outside. Marianne and James, his parents, burst into the room.

“What’s going on?” Marianne asked, scanning the scene.

Her face went pale. Her eyes landed on the tattoo. James, always the silent type, didn’t need to say a word. His clenched jaw and fists said it all.

“It’s simple,” I said calmly. “Greg cheated on me. With his ex. The night before our wedding.”

Marianne sat down on the edge of the bed, stunned. James stood frozen. Greg remained on the floor, crying.

“Gregory,” James growled. “Is it true?”

He didn’t answer.

“He slept with her,” I confirmed. “And he told her he needed ‘one last taste of freedom.’”