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My Husband Takes a Stand
The ceremony was beautiful. My fiancé, Marco, had no idea what had happened, and I wasn’t going to let it cast a shadow over our day.
At the reception, however, I noticed Marco having a tense conversation with his mother. His jaw was tight, his hands balled into fists. Then he turned, locked eyes with me, and walked away from her.
Later that night, when we were finally alone, he wrapped his arms around me.
“I’m sorry about her,” he murmured. “She told me what she did.”
I sighed. “It’s okay. She tried, and she failed.”
Marco kissed the top of my head. “I told her she either respects you, or she loses both of us. No middle ground.”
I blinked up at him, my heart swelling. “You really said that?”
“Of course. I married you. Not her. She doesn’t get to ruin this.”
At that moment, I knew—no matter what Sylvia tried, Marco was on my side.
And that made all the difference.
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