He Changed Our Wedding Venue for His Sweetheart

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows into the living room as I curled up on the sofa in the silk pajamas Alexander had given me. Spread before me was a collection of wedding checklists—flower samples, menu options, seating charts... each item making my heart flutter with excitement.

In a week, I would be his wife.

I picked up my phone and scrolled to Alexander's goodnight text from last night: "My princess, soon you'll be the most beautiful bride in the world." Reading his message, I couldn't help but grin like an idiot.

Growing up, I never imagined I'd marry into New York high society. The Watsons were a respectable family, but our business had been declining for years—we were nowhere near the league of the Sterlings anymore. Yet Alexander didn't seem to care. He said he loved me for who I was, not where I came from.

My phone suddenly rang, interrupting my daydreaming. The caller ID showed "Pure Elegance Wedding Planners."

"Good morning, Miss Watson! Regarding your wedding venue, we need to confirm something with you..." The voice on the other end sounded tense, lacking its usual professional confidence.

My heart skipped a beat, but I replied gently, "My grandmother's farm in Vermont, right? Is there a problem? Has something happened to the venue?"

"No, it's not that. You see, Mr. Sterling contacted us yesterday afternoon to urgently change the wedding location to Villa Bellavista in Tuscany. He said the Sterling family would cover all expenses and emphasized that you had completely agreed to this change."

The world suddenly went quiet around me, and I could only hear my own heartbeat.

"What? We specifically chose my grandmother's farm! When did I agree to change the venue?" My voice trembled slightly.

"Mr. Sterling said you've been too busy with work lately and entrusted him with all wedding arrangements. He specifically mentioned that the Tuscan estate better aligns with Sterling family traditions and is more fitting for your social standing. He also said..." The planner paused, seemingly uncomfortable.

"What else did he say?"

"He said that Miss Watson is always so understanding and wouldn't fuss over such minor details."

Understanding? Minor details?

My blood froze instantly. How could my grandmother's farm possibly be a minor detail? That place held my most cherished childhood memories—the rose garden my grandmother and I planted together, the kitchen where I first learned to bake.

I had dreamed countless times of wearing my wedding dress in that daisy-filled garden, allowing my grandmother's spirit to witness my happiness.

On our first date, I had excitedly told Alexander about this dream.

Alexander had gently kissed my forehead then and whispered, "Whatever my princess wants, I'll make it happen. Getting married at your grandmother's farm sounds romantic."

Now those words felt like the cruelest irony.

"Miss Watson? Are you still there?" the wedding planner asked cautiously.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady: "I understand. I'll confirm this directly with Alexander."

After hanging up, I collapsed back onto the sofa, staring blankly at my engagement ring.

Minutes later, I grabbed my car keys and purse and rushed out of the apartment.

Driving to Sterling Enterprises, I tried to convince myself this was just a misunderstanding. Maybe Alexander wanted to surprise me? Maybe he just wanted to make the wedding more grand? But why make decisions behind my back? Why not discuss it with me?

In the elevator, I attempted to gather my thoughts, rehearsing what I would say to Alexander.

Maybe I should be gentle—he probably has his reasons. Maybe I'm being too sensitive, too fixated on things that don't really matter.

As I approached Alexander's office door, I heard his voice from inside. I was about to knock when his words stopped me dead in my tracks.

"Thank God Lena reminded me yesterday that getting married at some rundown farm would make us the laughingstock of our entire circle. Villa Bellavista in Tuscany is what befits the Sterling family's status and position."

Lena? His ex-girlfriend who had always been cold toward me? Why was she meddling in our wedding?

"But what if Avery gets upset? Just yesterday she was telling me how much she was looking forward to getting married at that farm. She seems to really care about the place," another male voice said—it sounded like his college friend James.

Alexander let out a contemptuous laugh, in a cold tone I'd never heard from him before: "What's she going to do about it? The Watson family is only staying afloat because of Sterling investments and contracts. Without our support, they would have gone bankrupt ages ago. Avery knows this better than anyone—she wouldn't dare risk our relationship over something so trivial."

I felt like someone had stabbed me in the chest; breathing became difficult.

"Besides," Alexander continued, his voice smug, "women are all the same—buy her a more expensive necklace on the wedding day, and she'll forget everything. It's not like she has many friends to invite anyway. What difference does it make to her whether it's a farm or Tuscany?"

"Don't you think that's a bit harsh?" James's voice carried a note of disapproval.

"Harsh? I'm just stating facts. Her college friends are either broke or married to broke guys, and the Watson relatives are hardly worth mentioning. This wedding is really for the Sterling family's friends and business partners—it's a perfect opportunity to build business relationships. A Tuscan wedding will attract more of our European clients."

"Speaking of which, Nathan has been stealing our overseas orders lately, which is annoying. But whatever—once Avery and I are married, the Watson family will be completely tied to Sterling's ship, and all those contracts will eventually be ours."

Nathan Cross? My longtime friend.

My mind suddenly flashed to my father's recent phone calls: "Avery, don't worry about the family business—things have been looking up lately, thanks to some anonymous benefactor. I don't know who it is, but we've suddenly gotten many more orders, and they're all high quality."

I had assumed my father was just trying to keep me from worrying before the wedding, just reassuring me. But now...

"Oh, and," Alexander continued, "remind the hotel to put away that pathetic Watson family tree. Lena says displaying it at the wedding would be embarrassing—it would make guests think the Sterlings have fallen so low we need to marry for money."

I couldn't bear to hear any more.

I quietly retreated to the other end of the hallway and slipped into the emergency stairwell. In the vast concrete space, I was alone with my sobs echoing off the walls, sounding so desolate.

I never knew that in Alexander's eyes, I was just a pitiful pawn to be manipulated at will. My family, my friends, everything I cherished—to him, they were all sources of shame to be hidden away.

I thought about all the little details from the past two years: why Alexander never attended gatherings with my friends, always saying "those people are so boring"; why he never came to dinner at my parents' home, always claiming "restaurants have better ambiance"; why he always seemed distracted and changed the subject whenever I mentioned childhood memories...

Now everything made sense.

I sat in that stairwell for a long time, until my tears dried up, until my heartbeat steadied again. Then I stood up, straightened my clothes and hair, and walked out of the Sterling building as if nothing had happened.

The autumn wind in New York was strong, tousling my hair and clearing my mind completely.

Standing on the bustling Fifth Avenue, I suddenly felt more alone than ever before. Among all these hurrying passersby, who could possibly understand the despair of a bride-to-be at this moment?