Khloe's POV

"...you may now kiss your bride!" The priest's voice rang through the church, filled with joy as the congregation erupted in applause.

I clutched my gown, my heart racing, and bit my lip to stifle the scream bubbling within me. This overwhelming moment was too much to process, and despite my efforts to suppress it, the emotions surged.

Just last night, as I prepared for my walk down the aisle to marry Lance Allerick, my fiancé, I received the shocking news that shattered my world. At first, I dismissed it as a cruel joke, but the reality hit hard. This was no dream; it was my life unraveling before my eyes.

Tears blurred my vision, and I struggled to regain control as they streamed down my cheeks, each drop a reminder of my broken heart.

"Oh, sweetheart! I know how much you'll miss your sister," a woman beside me said gently, handing me a tissue. I took it, whispering my thanks, desperate for just one person to understand my pain.

The jubilant laughter and cheers from the guests only heightened my sense of isolation. It felt as though I was floating in a void, disconnected from the joy surrounding me.

I glanced down the aisle, watching Lance and Adele make their way to the waiting car, their smiles radiant and blissful. A pang of envy twisted in my gut; they looked like the perfect newlyweds.

That should have been me. Lance was supposed to be by my side, not with my sister. We had envisioned a life together, filled with love and dreams.

Lance Allerick, a self-made millionaire with businesses thriving nationwide, had been my fiancé for six months. Those months were filled with laughter and discovery, culminating in a proposal on my birthday—an offer I accepted without hesitation.

But when Adele learned of our engagement, her fury ignited. She unleashed a torrent of accusations against Lance, branding him selfish and untrustworthy. I brushed off her words, knowing they stemmed from jealousy rather than truth.

If only I had realized her hidden intentions sooner, perhaps I could have protected what was mine. But it was too late to dwell on lost opportunities.

I squeezed my eyes shut, drawing a deep breath as I rose from my seat. I needed to escape before my composure shattered completely.

Returning home, I avoided the celebration at Valiero's Garden, our chosen reception venue, and began packing my belongings. My family had betrayed me; who knew what else they were capable of?

As I finished, I glanced around my now-bare room, forcing a smile that felt foreign. I grabbed my luggage, struggling under its weight, when suddenly, the door swung open. My parents stepped inside, their expressions a mixture of concern and determination.

"Where do you think you're going?" my mother asked, her voice firm.

"I'm leaving," I replied, my voice hoarse from tears.

"Khloe, please, pull yourself together," my father implored, reaching out a hand. I recoiled, disgusted.

"We know this is hard for you, and we're sorry we didn't tell you sooner," my mother added, her voice softening.

Bitterly, I wiped away the tears and recalled how I had learned the devastating news.

I gripped my luggage tighter, trying to move past them, but my father blocked my path.

"We did what we thought was best," he said, igniting a fire of anger within me. Just as I prepared to shout, he added, "There's a replacement."

His words hung in the air, unfamiliar and jarring.

"Yes, Khloe, your father and I didn't want to leave you with nothing after giving Adele to Lance," my mother explained, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Lance and Adele are meant to be together. With their union, they can create something extraordinary…"

"Enough!" I shouted, my frustration boiling over.

"I don't care about your reasons; I'm leaving!" I tugged at my luggage, but my father stepped in front of me again.

"Khloe, please…" he pleaded, his voice a broken record.

Somehow, I was persuaded to sit on the couch, my luggage still beside me, a reminder of my desire to escape.

"Where is he?" my mother asked, glancing at my father as he returned from the kitchen with a glass of water.

"Right here," he replied, handing it to me. I gulped it down, my throat dry from emotion.

"Just a little longer," he said, watching me anxiously.

Just then, my father rushed to the door, opening it wide to reveal an elderly man in a wheelchair being rolled in.

"Here he is—Tyler Greene!" My mother's excitement was palpable, leaving me to wonder what this meant for my future.