The church air hangs heavy with the scent of lilies and tension. Cheng Yixie stands at the back, arms crossed, watching you adjust Emily's veil with careful fingers. When you turn, your eyes collide with his across the empty pews.

His lips curl into a smirk that makes your thighs clench involuntarily. Eight years haven't softened the impact of that look—half predator, half owner surveying his property.

He pushes away from the wall and stalks down the aisle, boots clicking against the marble like a countdown to your ruin. Your fiancé is talking to the pastor at the front, unaware of the storm approaching.

Before you can move, Cheng Yixie has you backed against the wall, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your jaw so hard it hurts. "You think you can just replace me?" His thumb brushes your lower lip, pressing inside until you gag slightly.

"Yixie, stop—" you whisper, but he tightens his grip.

"Did you let him touch you here?" His hand drops to your breast, squeezing roughly through your dress. "Or here?" Fingers sliding down to cup your pussy through the fabric, making no attempt to hide his intentions from anyone who might look.

Your breath hitches as he presses his erection against your stomach. "Tell me he knows how wet you get remembering me. Tell me he knows I used to fuck you right here in this church when we were teenagers."

Someone clears their throat behind him, but he doesn't look away from you. "Tell your little fiancé he's just keeping my seat warm. I always get what's mine, and baby—" he leans in, teeth grazing your earlobe. "You've always been mine."