The Wedding Crasher's Comeuppance

The Wedding Crasher's Comeuppance

Ken Dahl

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My relaxing weekend at my parents' house was shattered by a call from my Brooklyn HOA. They claimed my apartment was hosting a raucous wedding party, going on for two straight nights. I was completely confused, having been single and away from Brooklyn for almost a year. Then, the HOA emailed security footage, and my blood ran cold. It was my ex-fiancé, Ethan, in a tuxedo, smiling triumphantly with a woman in a white dress, right in front of my apartment door. He was getting married there. The sheer audacity was staggering; this was the man I left because he demanded I add his name to the deed of the apartment I bought. He had broken in, changed the locks, and was throwing his wedding in my sanctuary. My father's "that bastard" echoed my own fury. I drove straight to Brooklyn, only to find he' d changed the locks, preventing me from entering my own home. His new mother-in-law, a stranger, belligerently told me I was a "crazy ex-girlfriend" and that Ethan had "bought this place" for her daughter. The injustice burned through me as I stood in my own hallway, accused of trespassing. How could someone be so brazen, so deceitful, to steal my home and invent such a lie? This wasn't just about property; it was a violation of everything I had built for myself. I called my two brothers, knowing this wasn't just a noise complaint anymore; it was war, and I was going to reclaim what was mine.

Introduction

My relaxing weekend at my parents' house was shattered by a call from my Brooklyn HOA.

They claimed my apartment was hosting a raucous wedding party, going on for two straight nights.

I was completely confused, having been single and away from Brooklyn for almost a year.

Then, the HOA emailed security footage, and my blood ran cold.

It was my ex-fiancé, Ethan, in a tuxedo, smiling triumphantly with a woman in a white dress, right in front of my apartment door.

He was getting married there.

The sheer audacity was staggering; this was the man I left because he demanded I add his name to the deed of the apartment I bought.

He had broken in, changed the locks, and was throwing his wedding in my sanctuary.

My father's "that bastard" echoed my own fury.

I drove straight to Brooklyn, only to find he' d changed the locks, preventing me from entering my own home.

His new mother-in-law, a stranger, belligerently told me I was a "crazy ex-girlfriend" and that Ethan had "bought this place" for her daughter.

The injustice burned through me as I stood in my own hallway, accused of trespassing.

How could someone be so brazen, so deceitful, to steal my home and invent such a lie?

This wasn't just about property; it was a violation of everything I had built for myself.

I called my two brothers, knowing this wasn't just a noise complaint anymore; it was war, and I was going to reclaim what was mine.

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I died on a Tuesday, run over by a horse. The last thing I saw was my father' s enraged face turning away, and heard my stepsister, Stella, let out a triumphant sob. Then, darkness. But suddenly, I was back. Standing in our Silicon Valley mansion. My father, a billionaire who controlled everything but his emotions, stood beside me. Across the room, Stella, the girl he' d raised as his own, held the shattered pieces of my mother' s locket-my only memento of her. "Oops," she purred, her voice dripping fake sympathy. That cold smile. I knew this scene. I remembered the rage that blinded me then, the scream that sealed my fate. In my first life, I had unknowingly played right into her hands. I raged, I screamed, I was banished. Then she swapped our bodies, trapping me in her life of torment at the horse sanctuary, where I eventually died-again. She literally stole my life, my identity, everything. How could my own father, blinded by her fake piety, always side with her over me? How could I have been so naive, so foolish, to fall for her every trick? The injustice burned hotter than any fury. Why did fate bring me back just to relive this nightmare? But this time, things would be different. The familiar sensation of horse hooves crushing my ribs was a vivid memory. I knew her plan, every single twisted step. And this time, I was ready. I would not scream. I would not lose. The game was on, and I, Gabrielle, was now holding the leash.

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