The Girl Who Stole His Wedding

The Girl Who Stole His Wedding cover

The Girl Who Stole His Wedding

What’s the point? I’m about to get married — and to the crown prince, no less.

The wedding parade was a blaze of red for miles, a grand spectacle.

I sat properly in the sedan, planning to cry just enough to be polite. But before a full tear could fall, the carriage stopped.

A young man had come to steal the bride.

His name was Lucas Reed. My father had taken him in as an orphan. At fifteen he rode off to war, earned his stripes, and in less than three years had been promoted to general.

He felt grateful to my father for raising him, so he proposed to marry me.

Why me? Probably because he knew he wasn’t worthy of the prime minister’s legitimate daughter.

I was his second choice.

That I could marry the Crown Prince today was entirely thanks to the villains doing their job well.

They kidnapped the original bride—Hazel Bennett—forced wedding robes onto me, and deposited me in the wedding sedan.

Their intent was to disgrace the Crown Prince and sow discord with the Bennetts.

I was miserable, but I didn’t say a word.

If anyone found out how I felt, they’d call me ungrateful. A low-born girl marrying the Crown Prince—how dare I complain?

But my grievance wasn’t marrying the Crown Prince, nor was it about that young man.

It was my fate.

I, a forever-single woman from the twenty-first century, had transmigrated into a book as a disposable supporting character.

Today, I had to fulfill my role and push the plot forward.

A breeze lifted the sedan curtain and I vaguely saw a figure in black armor, a silver spear in hand, standing in the middle of the road.

A one-man bride rescue—how ridiculous.

“Miss Bennett, I returned alive,” he shouted hoarsely, his voice clear and loud.

The crowd had been silent for a long stretch—either stunned or too afraid to react.

I idly picked at my nails. This guy—so dramatic. If you returned, fine; at least look at the occasion.

Impressive.

“Oh my, General Reed, this is the Crown Prince’s wedding—please don’t make trouble. Move aside,” a high, unplaceable voice cooed, trying to placate him.

Translation: don’t cause a scene. Get lost.

“Miss Bennett, before you leave, I want to see you,” the young man insisted.

He sounded stubborn—definitely immature.

I yawned again, a little sleepy.

Not my business, I told myself.

If it’s my business, I won’t bother either.

After all, I’m just a throwaway character—not worth stealing the spotlight.

The curtain was suddenly whipped aside and I collided headlong with a pair of ink-dark eyes.

Lucas Reed stared at me in shock. “Claire… Bennett? Where’s Miss Hazel?”

In the book, Lucas always loved Hazel Bennett. He’d assumed the sedan carried Hazel, so returning from the battlefield was one thing—he only wanted to see her.

Pitiful and tragic.

A horse whinnied, then a low, magnetic male voice asked, “General Reed, do you still see me as alone?”

Lucas straightened, spear held horizontally. “Claire Bennett is betrothed to me. She must not marry you. If you insist today, Prince, you’ll have to step over my corpse.”

His words were edged with anger, the kind that could unhorse a man.

The Crown Prince in this novel—Edward Hale—was the male lead.

The book didn’t describe Lucas much: a disposable male supporting role with a handful of scenes. After he served his plot purpose, he disappeared.

The Crown Prince, though, was different.

The book painted him like a living painting: elegant as an orchid, smile like a bright moon.

I’m not one to chase wealth or power. I have one obsession I won’t apologize for—beauty.

Curious, I carefully peered through the curtain.

The sunlight was blinding. I could just make out a chestnut steed and a young man in wedding robes; his face was a wash of light, hard to see.

Lucas had already gotten a clearer look—this time he saw everything.

Not bad, I thought.

He had sun-kissed skin, slanted brows, coal-black eyes, a straight nose, and slightly red lips. There was a reckless bravado about him that somehow felt reassuring.

You could tell he wasn’t a schemer.

Seeing me looking, he flashed a grin, showing white teeth. “Claire, don’t be afraid. I’ll take you home.”

…No need, really.

I’m a mellow transmigrator. The Crown Prince must have noticed me too; he dismounted and walked toward us, the sun at his back.

Tall, broad-shouldered and narrow of waist.

As he drew closer, his features sharpened.

I inhaled sharply, nearly screamed.

Oh my God—he’s gorgeous!

He looked like he’d stepped out of a painting.

His long hair was neatly tied high, eyebrows like distant hills, eyes bright as stars, lips pale against the red wedding robes—an air of fragile nobility.

He stopped before the sedan, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Hazel? Why are you in the sedan?”

Brother, you are weaponizing your looks.

I deliberately bowed my head and lifted a fan to block his gaze.

According to the plot, the original girl—who secretly loved the Crown Prince—would seize this opportunity, decide to go along with it, and actually marry the Prince. Then, at the wedding ceremony, her identity as a substitute bride would be exposed. The Crown Prince, Edward, would cast her aside.

Out of courtesy the emperor would name the original a Crown Consort.

“I certainly don’t have the nerve to commit such a sin,” I said, swallowing. “Bad people kidnapped Miss Hazel and shoved me into the sedan. I’m helpless, confused, and weak. If you want to use me, go ahead—I’ll cooperate.”

I’d survived school bullying, domestic abuse, and company backstabbing; I knew what resisting fate cost. Enduring may seem weak, but it’s easier than wrestling destiny.

This life, a quiet existence as a consort, didn’t sound so bad.

“Claire Bennett, what did you say? Miss Hazel was kidnapped? Crown Prince, how did you protect her?” Lucas strode over, snatched my fan, and demanded, brow furrowed.

Brother—can this disposable male lead stop making drama?

We’d be fine living quietly under the hero’s halo.

Edward lowered his eyes in thought a moment, flicked his sleeve, and asked me coolly, “I’ll give you one choice: return to Bennett Manor or come to the Crown Palace?”

“Crown Palace.” I didn’t expect Lucas to be so bold. No sooner had the word left my mouth than he scooped me up and ran.

Being chased by the palace guard was adrenaline-inducing.

I wriggled, craned my neck behind Lucas to look at Edward. He stared at me with a depth like an abyss, and I felt ice along my spine.

This Crown Prince was both righteous and dangerous. Follow him and prosper; oppose him and perish.

I swallowed fear and declared my loyalty: “Crown Prince, save me. I want to go to the Crown Palace—I’ll go with you!”

No future in sticking with that expendable supporting lead.

Lucas froze, displeased. “Claire Bennett, have you no shame?”

Dodging a flying hidden blade, he jumped off a roof and kept sprinting. “Miss Hazel likes the Prince—that’s her right. Why compete with her? Am I that inferior? Why won’t you marry me?”

His voice trembled at the end, trying to hide sorrow.

He loved his heroine; I was here to fulfill my plot.

Since we couldn’t agree, I stopped struggling. Accidents happen, and I couldn’t risk injuring myself.

Safety matters; precaution is key.

Lucas stole a stranger’s horse, rode hard with me, and we put distance between us and our pursuers.

My backside felt like it would break into pieces on the saddle.

After who-knows-how-long, we stopped at a small cottage halfway up a hill.

Green mountains, birdsong, shade beneath a tree—perfect for retiring.

“Under heaven, whose land does this not belong to—” I muttered.

Hiding me here won’t help—I was a tool meant to shine.

“You marrying the Prince would sadden Miss Hazel,” he said without pause.

He carried me into the bamboo cottage.

The room was spare: a table, two chairs, a folding screen, and a small wooden bed. He set me down and rummaged, handing me a plain white robe to change into.

Relieved to ditch the wedding crown and heavy gown, I flopped onto the bed.

“I need to get back to the Crown Palace. Otherwise we’re in danger,” I said. He suddenly flushed and hurried out.

“I—I didn’t see clearly. I didn’t see clearly.”

Looking down at myself, the white robe was loose, slipping off one shoulder, revealing a curve. Barefoot, no stockings—this was practically underwear by ancient standards.

I had no time to care. In this unfamiliar place with the plot tugging at me, the smartest move was to follow the storyline and muddle through a short, prosperous life as a consort.

First priority: fix this mess and find a way to continue toward the Crown Consort path.

Half-asleep, I heard footsteps outside.

The door opened and Edward Hale and my father, Governor Bennett, entered almost at once.

Seeing my disheveled state—hair loose, bare feet—both men jumped to conclusions. My father grew furious; Edward’s face was cold as water.

In a flash, Edward covered me with his outer robe.

“Claire Bennett, you climbed into the Crown Palace sedan in public and now you’ve done this disgraceful thing with Lucas Reed. Tell me—how shall I deal with you?”

I remembered the purity mark used in ancient times and scrambled to prove myself.

I rolled up my sleeve, propped myself up, and showed Edward my arm. “Your Highness, I’m clean.”

His gaze darkened. He said, low and controlled, “Behave.”

“This concerns a woman’s chastity. I must explain.” I leapt up—too abruptly—and the robe slipped, exposing most of my shoulder. To these people, it looked scandalous.

Edward immediately closed me into his arms, shielding me with his broad sleeve.

“Senator, please step outside,” he said.

My father barely processed what had happened before he saw us embrace. His expression twisted.

As soon as my father left, Edward let go of me.

“You’re scheming,” he said, turning his tall, straight back to me. “Why do you want to enter the Crown Palace?”

To live comfortably, I wanted to reply.

“I’m just a miserable person who can’t control her own fate,” I said, half-true, half-performance. “I didn’t mean to ride in the sedan. I didn’t mean to be kidnapped. And confronting you here was not my intention.”

Thinking it through, I hadn’t done anything—but in your eyes I was the schemer, the one who’d done all the awful things. That’s just not fair.

He stiffened, then turned to look at me.

Sunlight slanted through the window, half his face swallowed by shadow, the other half lit up, making it impossible to read his true expression.

"Claire, don’t talk about mastering your own fate next time. For a young lady, it’s better to be a little foolish."

After a long pause, he said that quietly.

I nodded like a puppet.

Transmigrants learn fast: never talk about equality or controlling your destiny. That’s basically poking the people in power.

Next time I had to be careful. Careful, careful, careful.

I managed to follow Edward into the Crown Palace and became a consort to the prince.

On my wedding night I was left alone in the bridal chamber.

Expected, but it still hit me like a sorrowful ache.

I didn’t know if I’d ever get rid of that purity mark. If I couldn’t experience the joys I missed in my previous life, I’d have to make up for it somewhere else.

So I slipped out.

I wandered the vast Royal Garden until I got lost.

The moon was bright, the stars sparse, and a soft breeze moved through the leaves.

I sat next to a rockery, gnawing on a chicken leg I’d stolen from the Imperial Kitchen, muttering about which brand of spiced duck was tastier.

"What are you doing?"

A voice suddenly asked, and I clutched my chicken leg.

My gaze moved up from black boots and froze on an astonishingly handsome face. For a moment I had no idea how to explain my late-night snack theft.

"How can you be so undisciplined? If you want something, have a servant fetch it. Why steal?"

He looked down at me, the moon behind him. He seemed cool and remote as the moon itself—untouchable.

"I’m independent. I like doing things myself."

I forced a laugh. I tried to stand, but my legs were numb. I wobbled, and the chicken leg dropped.

Following the three-second rule, I snatched it back up, blew on it, and was about to take a bite when Edward stopped me.

There was a hint of pity in his gaze and a softer tone in his voice. "It’s dirty."

"Okay."

After a moment’s hesitation I decided to keep my mouth shut and not build any character—be the forgettable side character.

His lips moved but he didn’t speak. He glanced at me, then turned and left.

I waited until he’d nearly gone before finishing the chicken leg, but he turned back. "Not leaving? Still wandering the garden?"

So he’d seen me the whole time.

I trailed behind him.

He led me back to the chamber. Standing at the doorway, he looked at the chicken leg in my hand. "Behave yourself. I won’t mistreat you."

I obediently nodded.

After a silence he said out of the blue, "I think you’re very clever."

I went on guard. First he’d told me a lady should be a little foolish, and now he called me clever. That didn’t seem like a good sign.

The next morning I was barely awake when a sparrow-like voice chirped in my ear, making me grumpy.

"Ten more minutes, please."

I clutched the blanket and begged weakly.

But the voice didn’t relent.

I bolted upright, pounding the mattress. "What’s ten more minutes gonna do? Be reasonable."

"Consort, you must pay respects to the Queen this morning. Don’t be late."

A delicate handmaiden bowed nervously.

I suddenly remembered my new identity and plastered on a fake smile. "Yes, yes, I’ll get up."

After a flurry of dressing, I wore heavy palace robes and a head full of jewels, and followed the handmaidens to the Queen’s Chamber.

At the palace gate we passed Lucas Reed kneeling stiffly in the morning light, whipping rods stacked behind him.

Yesterday he’d acted like a conqueror; now he was mortifying himself. The palace really was a dangerous place. I needed to stay alert.

"Hey, didn’t you see me?"

Lucas called as we brushed past. His eyes were wide with annoyance—so teenage, so dramatic. If you’re resigning yourself to punishment, at least don’t look upset about it.

"General Reed, this is the prince’s consort. You should show proper etiquette," the handmaiden who’d woken me said indignantly.

"Consort?" Lucas straightened and stared at me. "You’d rather be the side piece than my legitimate wife?"

I couldn’t help it—people like him will be undone by their mouths.

"General, you can’t compare yourself to the prince—" I started to advise, meaning to caution him that a minister can’t be equated with a monarch, but he misread me as flattering the powerful.

He scoffed like he’d swallowed a lemon. "I’ll wait and see this consort’s glory days, ha." He dragged out the word “consort” like an insult, as if accusing me of being a homewrecker.

So dramatic, so deeply misguided. I said nothing and walked on.

The Queen’s chamber was packed with the court ladies. My legs trembled.

Women are experts at making other women miserable; palace women are masters. Luckily, I had learned court etiquette while at Bennett Manor, so they couldn’t find many faults.

After some perfunctory remarks, the Queen dismissed the others, leaving only me, shaking with nerves.

"My son once said he wanted a lifelong, one-and-only partner…" Her eyes narrowed as she scanned me. "You’ve entered the Crown Palace and ruined that thought. I’m pleased. Don’t be afraid of me."

I bowed carefully. "Claire thanks Her Majesty for her favor."

The Queen’s brow twitched. "Not favor—if you want to win my favor, make the prince come to your room soon."

That was a problem. I was a consort destined to be left alone—part of the book’s plot, part of fate.

Seeing my hesitation, the Queen sighed like a disappointed craftsman. "I’ll help you."

That evening, not long after the moon rose, Edward was carried to my bed by two major-domos.

I blinked, spooning bird’s nest soup the Queen had sent, as the major-domos winked at me. My brain went blank.

"Consort, it’s time."

A pale, polite pageboy took my porcelain bowl and pointed to the bed. Suddenly it clicked: this must be the Queen’s help.

I gulped the remaining soup, put on a determined smile, and thanked the major-domos.

They left satisfied.

Once the door clicked shut, I wiped my smile away and nibbled on pastries from the table. Not having additives took some getting used to.

After two bites, there was a knock. A tiny, high voice drifted through the door. "Consort, is everything okay? Need help?"

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