My Fiancé Allowed His Mistress To Hand Me A Paternity Test At Our Wedding — He Didn’t Know My Father Is Billionaire Royalty
Part 1
The recycled air inside the bridal suite at Rosewood Manor felt completely suffocating as I stared blankly at the gilded mirror.
A cold layer of sweat gathered along my hairline, actively destroying the expensive makeup I had just applied.
I sat perfectly still in front of the ornate gilded vanity mirror.
My trembling hands gently rested over the undeniable curve of my six-month pregnant belly.
I was deeply in love and trying my absolute hardest to ignore the knot of dread tightening in my chest.
I loved Tyler more than anything.
We had initially met four years ago during a sudden downpour outside a local coffee shop.
He was undeniably charming and seemingly fiercely devoted to our shared future.
When I discovered I was pregnant, he immediately dropped to one knee and proposed.
He swore he wanted to spend the rest of his life building a beautiful family together.
But the heavy diamond engagement ring on my finger felt like a shackle with each passing week.
His mother, Brenda, cast a dark and suffocating shadow over our entire relationship.
Brenda clung to her fragile upper-middle-class status with the desperate ferocity of a drowning sailor.
She constantly obsessed over appearances, exclusive country club memberships, and pristine lineage.
To her, a simple kindergarten teacher who lived in a modest apartment was nothing more than a parasitic interloper.
She genuinely believed I had maliciously trapped her golden boy with an unfortunate mistake.
Jenny gently pinned a stray curl behind my ear.
A soft, reassuring squeeze to my tense shoulder accompanied her deliberate movement.
Before I could offer a grateful smile, the heavy mahogany door swung open without a single knock.
Brenda strode inside wearing an icy silver gown that was entirely too formal for a morning preparation.
Her sharp, critical eyes dragged slowly up and down my custom maternity dress.
A vague, dismissive gesture pointed directly toward my stomach.
She smoothly commented that the fabric at least somewhat hid my unfortunate situation.
My jaw tightened so hard my teeth ached.
I forced a perfectly level tone while complimenting the intricate lace on her sleeves.
She walked gracefully over to inspect a crystal vase filled with white peonies.
A cold, condescending remark followed about how traditional families always value modesty above all else.
She claimed that one simply cannot teach proper breeding to someone from the gutter.
What Brenda didn’t know was the absolute truth about my actual lineage.
My full legal name was Megan Windsor-Mountbatten.
I was the only biological daughter of Prince Edward.
He was the ruling Duke of an incredibly wealthy, sovereign European principality.
I had strictly refused the royal titles and the heavily guarded life because I wanted a man to love me for my heart.
I craved a normal existence far away from the flashing cameras of the relentless paparazzi.
Sitting in that stifling bridal suite, a sharp pang of regret pierced my chest for not letting my father’s security detail toss this dreadful woman out into the street.
I quietly changed the subject by asking where my groom was hiding.
Brenda breezily mentioned he was downstairs having a quick drink with Heather to calm his wedding nerves.
My blood ran entirely cold.
Heather was the spoiled daughter of Brenda’s wealthiest best friend.
Brenda had always aggressively wanted Tyler to marry this ruthless socialite.
Heather had spent our entire engagement treating me with barely veiled contempt.
Tyler always brushed off her insults, claiming my pregnancy hormones were making me wildly paranoid.
My voice trembled slightly as I reminded Brenda that Heather wasn’t even on the final guest list.
Brenda’s tone dripped with pure venom as she snapped back.
She insisted Tyler deserved to have people present who truly understood his complex world.
She quickly swept out of the room, leaving a suffocating trail of expensive designer perfume in her wake.
Panic bubbled dangerously high in my chest.
The baby kicked sharply against my ribs, clearly sensing my mounting distress.
Jenny tightly gripped my shoulders, reminding me that I was marrying Tyler, not his cruel mother.
I took a deep, shuddering breath to steady my racing heart.
I foolishly believed that once we were officially married, things would finally change for the better.
The string quartet played a delicate melody as I stood at the entrance to the sprawling botanical gardens.
The morning sun was shining brightly over the breathtaking floral arches.
As I began my slow walk down the aisle, my stomach dropped straight to the manicured grass.
Sitting in the very front row on the groom’s side was Heather.
She was wearing a shimmering ivory slip dress that aggressively clung to every curve.
The garment was clearly a bridal dress, completely flouting every unspoken rule of basic wedding etiquette.
She sat with her legs crossed and a triumphant, mocking smile plastered across her face.
Her unwavering eye contact remained fiercely locked on Tyler at the altar.
My gaze snapped instantly to my fiancé.
He looked exactly like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.
His eyes darted nervously between me and the woman wearing white in the front row.
My hand shook so violently that my beautiful bouquet of peonies visibly trembled.
Every instinct inside my brain screamed to turn around and run toward the parking lot.
But the heavy, judgmental eyes of Brenda’s country club friends burned into my skin.
They were eagerly waiting for the trailer trash bride to finally break.
I gathered every single ounce of my inherited royal composure and walked the rest of the way.
The awkward transition to the reception in the grand ballroom was a blur of flashing cameras.
As the bridal party made their way to the head table, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Sitting directly next to Tyler’s designated chair was Heather.
Brenda was actively directing the catering staff to swap our carefully placed name cards.
I demanded an immediate explanation, my voice cutting sharply through the noise of the clinking silverware.
Brenda feigned complete innocence with a sickeningly sweet smile.
She cooed that I looked faint and desperately needed the extra space at the far end of the table.
She claimed Heather had graciously offered to keep Tyler entertained while I rested my swollen feet.
My voice shook with a dangerous mix of exhaustion and absolute fury as I reminded them that I was the bride.
Tyler rushed over looking incredibly panicked.
He helplessly rubbed the back of his neck while avoiding my gaze.
A desperate plea escaped his lips, begging me not to make a scene in front of his colleagues.
Those pathetic words shattered something fundamental deep inside my soul.
The illusion of the protective partner I thought I knew dissolved completely into thin air.
He was a willing participant in his own cowardice.
The sheer betrayal pressed down on my chest until I could barely draw a breath.
The microphones suddenly turned on with a loud electronic whine.
Brenda tapped her crystal champagne glass with a heavy silver fork.
The sharp clinking echoed through the lavish ballroom, instantly silencing the two hundred guests.
She stood confidently at the center of the room with a predatory smile.
My heart hammered a frantic, terrified rhythm against my ribs.
Brenda delivered a speech dripping with absolute poison.
She claimed Tyler was heroically sacrificing his bright future for a momentary lapse in judgment.
She looked directly at me, loudly calling me a parasite who had cleverly secured a permanent meal ticket.
Hot tears streamed uncontrollably down my cheeks, ruining my carefully applied makeup.
The public humiliation was absolute and suffocating.
She raised her glass high to toast her son for doing the right thing despite the tragic circumstances.
Before I could push my chair back and run for the exit, Heather popped up from her stolen seat.
She gripped a brightly wrapped gift box tightly in her manicured hands.
A malicious giggle echoed through the microphone as she practically shoved the box against my chest.
I numbly pulled off the silver ribbon and lifted the delicate lid.
Resting perfectly on a bed of tissue paper was a standard DNA paternity test kit.
Heather announced to the entire room that it was to give everyone much-needed peace of mind.
Cruel laughter immediately erupted from the front tables.
Tyler actually let out a nervous chuckle.
He shrugged his shoulders toward his friends, as if there was absolutely nothing he could do.
That small, pathetic, spineless sound broke the very last remaining thread holding me together.
I stood up slowly, letting the offensive box fall to the polished hardwood floor.
A bizarre, icy calm washed over my entire body.
I reached into my small bridal clutch and pulled out my cell phone.
My hands stopped shaking completely as I dialed the only number that could save me, preparing to unleash a storm they could never comprehend.
