I Lost My Child After My Husband Left Me for My Sister and Got Her Pregnant—On Their Wedding Day, Karma Stepped In

It wasn’t blood. It was paint.

Thick, sticky red paint that clung to the floor, the tablecloths, and the expensive white roses they’d probably paid a fortune for.

I was frozen in the doorway, unsure of what I’d just walked into, when I spotted Misty near the back.

She looked like she was going to explode from trying to hold in her laughter.

“Finally,” she whispered, grabbing my wrist. “You made it. Come on.”

“What happened?” I asked, still dazed.

She bit her lip and tugged me toward the corner.

“You need to see it yourself,” she said, already pulling her phone out of her purse.

“I got the whole thing. Sit.”

We huddled against the back wall, away from the chaos, and she tapped play.

The video started right around the toasts. Judy was dabbing her eyes with a napkin, guests raising glasses, Oliver beaming like the world’s most punchable golden retriever.

Then, Lizzie stood up.

I blinked at the screen.

Lizzie. The calm one. The “fix-it” sister.

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