With trembling hands, I pressed the screen, to playing a video. Instantly, I felt sick to my stomach watching it.
Dylan stood in front of the altar, wearing a black suit with a face full of sorrow. Fake grief. Alexa was beside him, smiling faintly, as if she was the victim left behind.
"My wife and I have been separated by fate," Dylan's voice trembled in the video.
"And now my wife has chosen the destiny of love for me before she died. She has died because her body could not withstand her worsening illness," he said again.
I squeezed my chest, which felt tight. My eyes burned with tears—not of sadness, but of searing anger.
Dylan, that bastard.
"We have to do it now! I don't want him to live happily without any guilt!" I exclaimed, handing Brian his cell phone back with a vengeful glare.
Brian looked at me for a moment before nodding. "Alright, I've come up with a plan. Let's start by destroying his image. I'll spread the evidence of his affair with Alexa!"
I quickly sent all the evidence to Brian. Within minutes, intimate photos of Dylan and Alexa were all over social media.
Just like Brian said, we sat back and watched their downfall.
"Mr. Dylan and Mrs. Alexa's affair!"