During the tenth year of our high-profile relationship, Damien Prescott and I finally got married and received our marriage certificate. But on the very same day, he canceled every wedding ceremony overnight.  Dressed in plain black mourning clothes, his eyes were filled with helplessness. "Helena, Grandpa suddenly passed away. My family has decided to postpone the wedding for the time being. I'll definitely make up the wedding ceremony for you in the future, okay?" For three years, I endured endless gossip, judgmental stares, and grievances I had nowhere to place. Whenever friends asked about the wedding date, I could only pretend to be calm and say we needed to wait a little longer. The eyes of relatives constantly lingered on me, their open and hidden mockery piercing like needles. Then, on our third wedding anniversary, he once again postponed the wedding because the family was still grieving. A social media post from my adopted sister, Alice Lockwood, suddenly popped up on my phone. In the post, Damien was holding a ten-carat pink diamond ring as he knelt on one knee to propose to Alice. "Alice, this is the ten years I owe you. Today, I can finally marry you with everyone's blessings." My phone screen was still open to my chat with Damien. Damien: Tonight is Grandpa's memorial gathering, and there's a lot to handle. Go to sleep early and don't wait for me. As I watched the man onstage passionately kissing another woman, my stomach churned violently. So I took out our marriage certificate and immediately called the police. "Hello, I'd like to report someone for bigamy."