Aaron Gray Facebook ad: “Five Times Abandoned: The Billionaire's Ultimate Regret”

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1026488336941589

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On the day of our fifth official wedding ceremony, Theodore, the groom, was late again. My phone suddenly buzzed with a trending post notification: [After finally winning over your longtime crush, what's the most thrilling thing you've done?] The original poster answered their own question below: [Obviously becoming his wife and stealing him away from my best friend's wedding five times, then going at it until we couldn't see straight in their wedding lounge.] Despite a flood of angry comments, the poster shamelessly posted a sweaty, post-sex photo. The faces weren't visible, but it was clear the poster was wearing a bridesmaid dress while the man showing half his profile was dressed in a groom's tuxedo. Something about it felt eerily familiar, sending chills down my spine. The next second, the banquet hall doors finally opened. Two figures appeared before me. They matched the photo perfectly. I felt like I couldn't breathe. One was Stella, my inseparable best friend for thirteen years. The other was Theodore, my husband of five legally married years. ... My mother Mary ripped off her corsage and slammed her hand on the table as she stood up in fury: "Five times! Five times this has happened! What could possibly be more important than your own wedding?" The guests held their breath. Theodore spoke in soothing tones: "Please calm down. There was an emergency at my company." After placating my mother, he pulled out a velvet ring box from his pocket, wearing a faint smile: "I didn't mean to be late. Whatever you want as compensation, I'll give you." More eye-catching than the diamond's sparkle was the band-aid on his neck. It was covering the bite mark Stella had left. "Is that so?" I suddenly smiled. He froze, thinking my love for him meant I'd forgive him once again. He seemed relieved. The next second, I lunged forward and grabbed Stella's hair viciously, pouring a glass of red wine over her head. "Emma, you've lost your mind!" When the wine glass shattered, he immediately shielded Stella. Flying glass shards cut across my face. Theodore and every guest stared at me in shock. As if I was the crazy one acting irrationally. The man pulled Stella behind him, looking at me with undisguised disgust: "Right! Stella had a family emergency earlier, that's why I was late." "But she's your friend—how could you be so vicious to her!" I couldn't remember when he'd started caring so much about Stella. In college, Stella had openly crushed on him—the whole Greek system knew about it. But whenever he mentioned Stella, his face would twist with disgust: "She's so annoying. Stupid and plain-looking too. I don't know why you chose her as a friend." Though his words were harsh, I'd felt grateful at the time. I'd managed to keep both my love and my friendship with Stella intact. Turns out he'd been hooking up with Stella behind my back, even screwing around in our wedding lounge. He'd once knelt all night before Mrs. Foster to convince his family to let him marry me. "Dad, I'll only marry Emma in this lifetime, or I'll keep kneeling here forever!" Stella had also stood outside the Foster family gates under the blazing sun for five hours, pleading for me. "Emma's happiness matters more than anything. I want her to marry the man she loves." Now Stella stood there drenched in wine, looking at me with guilt written all over her face. Hearing the guests' whispers, seeing my mother's worried expression, and listening to Theodore's patronizing "stop making a scene, let's just finish the ceremony"— I touched my slightly rounded belly and tore off the ridiculous veil. I heard my own voice, terrifyingly calm: "Theodore, let's get divorced."Theodore froze, trying to find any trace of a bluff on my face. After all, we'd been legally married at city hall for five years—this wedding was just a ceremony. But he'd never imagined I'd been waiting five whole years just to wear a wedding dress. Just as he hesi......

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Five Times Abandoned: The Billionaire's Ultimate Regret