My wedding day — which should’ve been the happiest day of my life — turned into a disaster. Not because of my bride, but because of my younger brother, the family’s so-called “golden child.”

It all started a few weeks before the wedding, when my brother asked if he could propose to his girlfriend during my reception. I politely but firmly declined. That’s when he did what I’d always feared: dragged our parents to my house to pressure me. My mother got so angry she threatened to ruin my wife Amanda’s wedding dress. I warned her I’d call the police if she actually tried. She cried, then screamed. It wasn’t until I said I’d uninvite my brother from the wedding that they finally backed off.

I thought that was the end of it — but it wasn’t. On the wedding day, my brother’s girlfriend showed up in a white dress — a blatant act of provocation. Then, just as Amanda and I were about to cut the cake, I heard someone yell: *“I said yes!”* I turned and saw my brother down on one knee, slipping a ring onto his girlfriend’s finger right in front of all our guests.

The moment the ring touched her hand, red wine suddenly spilled all over her dress. One of the bridesmaids had done it — an accident, but my brother didn’t believe that. He screamed, pointed fingers, and caused a scene. When I stepped in, he shoved me. I instinctively pushed back, and everything exploded into a full-blown fight. Amanda called the police. In the end, my brother and his girlfriend were kicked out of the wedding. The atmosphere turned cold, and guests quietly began to leave.

The next morning, I woke up to dozens of missed calls from my parents — who were on vacation in Italy and hadn’t even bothered to attend the wedding. They had heard my brother’s version of events and turned the blame on me. They demanded that I… **bail him out of jail** and **pay for his girlfriend’s wine-stained dress**. I couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped, unleashing everything I had kept buried: how they’d always favored him, blamed me, expected me to sacrifice and take responsibility — and now they wanted me to bow down over a ruined wedding?

I ended the call by telling them they could take care of their “golden child” themselves.

—

A few days later, while Amanda and I were out shopping, trying to lift our spirits, my brother called — drunk, smug. He boasted that our parents had left everything to him, including a trust fund worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. I asked what he was talking about, and he laughed: *“You really didn’t know? You’re not their biological son.”*

I froze.

He went on to say I was the result of an affair, that our parents only raised me because they had no choice. That I was “a mistake,” and that I wasn’t even mentioned in their will. I thought it was just drunk talk meant to humiliate me. But then I remembered… my brown eyes in a family full of blue ones. The coldness. The lifelong favoritism. And suddenly… it all made a painfully cruel kind of sense.

—

That night, Amanda held my hand tightly as I told her everything. I didn’t know if I was ready to face the truth. But at least, I knew she was by my side.

—

## **Three Years Later**

Life finally began to brighten. One crisp autumn morning, Amanda walked in beaming — holding up a pregnancy test with two lines. We cried with joy. To erase the painful memory of our ruined wedding, we held a vow renewal ceremony — small, intimate, just close friends and family. Amanda walked through the garden, sunlight glowing around her baby bump — more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen.

But then, another tragedy struck. My parents died in a car accident. Despite everything, I attended the funeral, carrying a grief I couldn’t name. My brother was there too — standing apart, distant, almost satisfied. No sympathy in his eyes, not a single tear. He looked like a ghost — a stranger I no longer recognized.

Soon after, rumors began to spread: my brother and his fiancée had been living lavishly, recklessly — and were now teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. They had burned through the entire inheritance — **a once-guaranteed future, now collapsing**.

I don’t know what will become of them. But I know this for sure: I — the one who was abandoned and forgotten — finally have a real family of my own. With Amanda, and our child on the way.