Desperate Funeral

At my father's funeral, the doors were suddenly thrown open.

A woman in a designer dress stormed in, flanked by a group of bodyguards. Without a word, they started smashing everything in sight, flower stands, incense burners, even the antique vases that were worth tens of millions. Shards scattered across the marble floor like confetti.

She pointed at me and screamed, "It's all fake! This funeral is fake! She's just an orphan using a dead man as an excuse to scam my fiancé's money!"

Then she turned to her audience, yes, her audience. She had a phone in hand, and the livestream was already rolling.

"Today, I'm tearing off her mask. Let's see how she explains herself when she's exposed in front of everyone!"

"She seduced someone else's man? I'll make her pay the price!"

I sneered.

An orphan? This woman clearly had no idea who I was.

Earlier that day, I had excused myself from the reception area to take a breather. I was checking my phone when I got a notification from a social app, a friend request. When I clicked on it, it led me to a live broadcast.

At first, I didn't recognize the woman crying in the video, claiming she was humiliated by a mistress and that her wedding had been postponed because of "that vixen." The comment section was flooded with curses and sympathy.

Then I realized.

Wasn't that Shirley, my husband's new secretary?

No wonder Brian didn't come to the funeral with me. He said he was tied up with work. Turns out his secretary was busy chasing ghosts.

"My friends," Shirley sobbed on the stream, "that woman spent millions of my fiancé's money in just a month. I've already hired a private detective and found out where she lives. Today, I'm exposing that shameless homewrecker!"

"Who the hell holds a funeral like this unless they're trying to scam people? An orphan, pretending to be rich? It's disgusting!"

I narrowed my eyes.

Millions in a month? Shirley should be arrested for defamation. Out of curiosity, I clicked through her previous posts. They were all about luxury gifts and five-star restaurants, but in every video, only she appeared. No fiancé in sight.

I shut off my phone and went back to greet guests. But just as I finished my thank-you speech, chaos erupted outside. Before I could react, I was shoved violently to the ground.

A phone screen was shoved in my face, and Shirley's voice blasted from the speaker.

"My friends! This is the bitch who seduced my fiancé! Look at her! Memorize her face! A homewrecker like her doesn't deserve respect!"

I braced myself on one hand, stood up, and said coldly, "Are you insane? I'm married. You've got the wrong person. If you leave now, I'll pretend this never happened."

But Shirley laughed mockingly.

"Still playing innocent? Fine. Let me give you a hint."

She spun her phone around to face me.

"This whole funeral? Fake. She's a broke orphan who conned my fiancé into paying for this spectacle, millions of dollars wasted! I won't let her get away with it!"

I glanced at the guests, some shocked, some amused, some watching like it was just another drama series. My voice dropped, sharp and steady. "This is my father's funeral. I'm not an orphan. I suggest you leave while you still can."

She snorted, took out another phone, and pulled up a photo album.

"Look closely," she hissed. "Here's the payment receipt, over $2,000 from my fiancé to her!"

"And here's her background info. She's an orphan! You think you can fool me?"

My eyes fell on the screen.

The receipt was real. The name had been changed to her so-called fiancé. As for the orphan claim? Completely photoshopped. Fake documents.

And her "fiancé"? That was Brian Bentley, my husband of five years.