My Fiancé Called Me a Peasant on Our Wedding Day — He Didn’t Know I Was a Princess

Part 2

The reply from Thomas came back in less than ten seconds, confirming that my extraction was inbound with profound pleasure.

The morning of the wedding was sickeningly picturesque, with sunlight spilling across the sprawling lawns of the mansion.

Inside the extravagant bridal suite, the atmosphere was suffocating as Brian’s cousins sipped mimosas and loudly discussed the net worth of the groomsmen.

They completely ignored me, treating me less like a bride and more like a prop that hadn’t yet been positioned on stage.

I stared at my reflection in the gilded vanity mirror, my face an impassive mask after not sleeping a single minute.

I was merely waiting for the final act of this pathetic play to unfold before bringing the curtain crashing down.

At ten o’clock, the heavy double doors of the suite swung open and Brenda marched in, flanked by an aggressive wealth management attorney.

She barked at the bridesmaids and makeup artists to get out, declaring it was family business.

The room emptied in seconds, leaving me alone with my monstrous future mother-in-law and her lawyer.

Brenda aggressively threw a thick stack of legal documents onto the vanity table, right over my makeup brushes.

The bold letters on the first page identified it as a postnuptial addendum and total asset forfeiture agreement.

She crossed her arms, her diamond bracelets clinking like tiny icy shackles, and commanded me to sign it.

I calmly traced the edge of the paper and asked where Brian was, since we had already signed a prenuptial agreement three months ago.

The doors opened again and Brian walked in, impeccably dressed in his bespoke tuxedo but entirely devoid of a soul.

He stood beside his mother, looking down at me with the exact same weary annoyance he had shown the night before.

I asked him if he honestly expected me to sign a document that treated me like a liability on the morning of our wedding.

Brian checked his Rolex and sighed, telling me it was just business and demanding I try to be rational instead of emotional.

He reminded me I was just a florist and insisted I should be grateful they were formally bringing me into their legacy.

Brenda’s lips curled into a vicious sneer as she echoed his words, explicitly stating that without them, I would be nothing but a peasant.

I stood up, the movement so fluid and brimming with innate authority that both of them involuntarily took a step back.

I tasted the word ‘peasant’, finding it hilariously absurd as a slow, chilling smile spread across my face.

Brian frowned, unnerved by my sudden transformation, and demanded I just sign the paper.

I interrupted him with crystal-clear pronunciation, my subtle aristocratic European lilt finally bleeding through as I informed them I wouldn’t be doing anything they said ever again.

Brenda gasped and threatened to cancel the wedding, but I stepped away from the vanity and calmly told her she couldn’t cancel what I had already terminated.

I looked at Brian and told him he had the legacy and power he so desperately wanted right in his hands, but he was too profoundly stupid to recognize it.

Before he could demand an explanation, a low, rhythmic thumping sound began to bleed through the thick glass windows.

The floorboards beneath our feet began to violently vibrate as the noise transformed into a deafening mechanical roar.

What would Brian do when he realized the peasant he tried to crush was actually a sovereign princess?