My Fiancé Used ChatGPT For His Vows, So I Married His Lawyer

Everyone knew Ethan Wright was a rigid, boring man. But during our three years of dating, he wrote me a love letter every single month. I treasured those letters like gold.

They were the only reason I forgave him for missing countless birthdays and anniversaries. Even when he stood me up to tend to his childhood best friend, Isla, I let it slide.

I used the line from his letters—"My heart is always with you"—to comfort myself. Until a week before our wedding, when I used his laptop to design our invitations.

A ChatGPT tab popped up on his browser. "My girlfriend is mad because I skipped her wedding dress fitting. Write a 500word love letter. Make it passionate and deep." I scrolled up.

Three years. Thirtysix entries. Thirtysix copypastes.

At the exact same time, Isla posted on her Instagram. "The paper stars my silly boy folded are so messy, but I absolutely love the words written inside each one." It turned out he wasn't incapable of putting in effort.

He just didn't want to use it on me. Ethan, keep those AIgenerated sweet words to fool your next victim. "Why are you still up?

Didn't I tell you to go to the fitting alone?" The study door opened, and Ethan walked in. I let go of the mouse, quickly hiding the ChatGPT tab.

Only the unfinished digital wedding invitation remained on the screen. "Just finishing the invitations." Ethan walked over and placed a chic paper bag on the desk. "A pipe burst at Isla's apartment.

She was crying hysterically, and she's all alone in the city. I had to go help her." "Brought this for you on the way back." Ethan reached out to ruffle my hair, a habit of his.

I tilted my head to avoid it. His hand froze in midair. "Don't be childish." "I'll clear my schedule tomorrow to help you choose the dress, okay?" I pulled the bag closer.

Inside were pistachio macarons. "Thanks." Ethan smiled, satisfied. "How are the invitations coming along?" "Almost done." I pushed the macarons aside.

Eating pistachios would send me to the ER with severe hives. I had told him this for three years, yet he never remembered.

But Isla loved them. "You must be tired from the fitting today, right?" Ethan took my hand.

His voice was deep and steady, the exact tone I used to crave. "Chloe, I know I've let you down lately." "But my heart is always with you.

No matter how busy I am, you are my ultimate home." I had read that exact sentence just five minutes ago in the AI chat history.

The prompt he used was: "I missed my fiancée's dress fitting.

Write a comforting sentence to make her feel like she's my one and only." I stared at the handsome, sophisticated man in front of me.

For three years, I thought he was just a typical, unromantic guy who was too focused on his career.

I had survived on those monthly "love letters." During the lonely nights he spent with Isla, I had read those words over and over again. "Why do you look so pale?" Ethan reached out to touch my forehead. "It's nothing.

Just tired." I brushed his hand away. Ethan sighed. "Chloe, you're about to be a wife." "Isla is like a sister to me. I can't just ignore her when she's in trouble.

Stop picking fights over a young girl." In the past, I would have cried and demanded to know who his actual fiancée was.

Now, I just felt exhausted. "I get it." Ethan smiled, pleased with my "maturity." "Get some sleep. I have an early meeting tomorrow." He walked out.

I opened the hidden browser tab again and scrolled further up. Year One Anniversary: "My girlfriend thinks I'm not romantic.

Write a 300word poem about the starry night and eternity." Year Two Birthday: "Forgot to buy a birthday gift.

Write an apology letter emphasizing that emotional connection is more important than material things." My phone buzzed. It was a Snapchat from Isla.

It was a photo of a glass jar filled with handfolded paper stars. The ink on the paper bled through the edges.

Her caption read: "The paper stars my silly boy folded are so messy, but I absolutely love the words written inside each one." I saved the screenshot, shut down the computer, and pulled out my flash drive.

The next morning. I threw the pistachio macarons into the trash chute downstairs.

When I returned to the living room, Ethan was tying his tie. "I saw the guest list you put together.

For the head table, let's move your Uncle Robert to one of the side tables." "Why?" Uncle Robert had raised me.

He was the closest family I had in the world. "Isla's parents just came to town yesterday." "They traveled a long way for our wedding.

We can't put them at a side table." "Your uncle lives locally anyway. It doesn't matter where he sits. Family shouldn't care about these formalities." "This is my wedding.

My uncle is sitting at the head table." Ethan looked at me, clearly annoyed. "Chloe, why are you being so stubborn again? Isla's parents loaned me money for college back then.

They helped me when I had nothing." "Now they're here for our big day, and you're throwing a fit over a seat?" "You're usually so generous.

Why do you get so petty whenever it involves Isla?" I almost laughed at his twisted logic. "Fine." "They can have the head table." Ethan blinked, surprised by how quickly I gave in.

He stepped forward and hugged me. "That's my good girl." "I'll head to the office now. Take care of the catering details.

I'll take you out for dinner tonight." As soon as the door closed, I called Uncle Robert. "Hey, Chloe.

Why are you calling so early?" "Uncle Robert, for the wedding next week... we might have a different groom." "I'll come over tonight to explain everything." I started packing my things in the apartment Ethan had bought.

I took the blooming orchid I had nurtured on the balcony for three years and threw it straight into a heavyduty trash bag.

Since I was leaving, I wouldn't leave a single trace of myself behind.

In the afternoon, the doorbell rang. It was Isla.

She was wearing one of Ethan's oversized white buttondown shirts. "Chloe," "Ethan said you must be exhausted from planning the wedding.

He asked me to bring over some homemade mushroom risotto." She strolled into the living room, looking around before making herself at home on the couch. "Ethan has been helping me move these past few days.

He barely slept. He has dark circles under his eyes, and it breaks my heart." She opened the thermal container.

The strong smell of mushrooms filled the room. "I told him to put extra mushrooms. He said they're your favorite." I despised mushrooms.

That was Ethan's favorite, not mine. "Thanks.

Just leave it there." Isla stood up and headed straight for my bedroom. "Chloe, can I see your wedding dress?" Before I could answer, she pushed the door open.

My custommade satin gown was hanging on the wardrobe, its delicate lace shimmering in the light. "Wow, it's gorgeous.

Ethan has amazing taste." "I chose it myself." "Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm just so jealous." She lowered her head, looking pitiful. "If only I weren't sick...

If only I had met him sooner..." "Chloe, can I try it on? With my health, I probably won't ever get the chance to wear one in this lifetime." The front door lock clicked.

Ethan was back. "What's going on?" He walked into the bedroom. In an instant, Isla looked like a kicked puppy. "Ethan, I just wanted to try on the dress for a second.

But Chloe seems upset. I shouldn't have asked." Ethan looked at the dress and frowned. "Chloe, Isla is sick.

Why can't you just let her have this one little wish?" He wrapped an arm around Isla's shoulders. "It's just a piece of fabric.

It won't get ruined if she tries it on." Watching them stand together, I said quietly, "That is my wedding dress." "I know it's yours. You're wearing it next week anyway.

Would it kill you to let her wear it for one minute?" He impatiently snatched the dress off the hanger. "Go ahead and try it on.

I'll take some pictures for you." Isla looked at me timidly. "Don't be mad, Chloe. If I get it dirty, I'll pay for it." She took the dress into the guest room.

Ethan looked at me. "Chloe, grow up.

Stop being so petty." He tried to grab my hand, but I stepped back. "Ethan, do I always have to yield just because you ask me to?" He frowned. "Be generous.

Why are you competing with a sick girl?" The guest room door opened.

Isla twirled around, holding up the heavy train. "How do I look?" Riiiiip. The delicate lace caught on a loose nail on the doorframe, tearing open a massive hole.

Isla gasped, covering her mouth. "Oh my god, Chloe! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Ethan immediately blocked her from me. "It's fine.

It's just a dress." He looked at me defensively. "Chloe, we can buy another one tomorrow. Don't you dare yell at her." A wave of sheer absurdity washed over me. I didn't scream.

I didn't cry. I simply walked over, snatched the torn gown from Isla, and stuffed it directly into the trash can. I dusted off my hands. "No need to buy a new one.

I won't be needing it anyway."

"Chloe, have you lost your mind?" He grabbed my wrist. "What are you going to wear next week if you throw it away?" "I'm not wearing anything." "What is wrong with your attitude?" Ethan was convinced I was just playing hard to get. "Canceling a wedding over a torn dress?

Are you really going to throw a tantrum like this?" Isla stepped out with watery eyes. "Chloe, I'll order a new one for you right now.

Please don't fight with Ethan because of me." She reached out to touch me, but I stepped back. "Don't touch me." Isla shrunk back, looking deeply hurt. "Ethan, does Chloe hate me?" Ethan's patience finally snapped.

He pulled Isla behind him. "I thought you were just throwing a fit, but you're being completely unreasonable." "Calm down on your own. Isla is shaken up.

I'm taking her home." "You better get your act together for the rehearsal tomorrow. Don't embarrass me in front of our friends and family." The front door slammed shut.

I looked at the ruined wedding dress in the trash. There was no anger left in me—only the sweet relief of finality. The next afternoon, at the hotel venue.

I sat in the empty seats, watching the wedding coordinators set up. My phone buzzed. It was a Snapchat from Ethan. "Isla had a high fever last night.

I'm at the hospital with her." "Go through the rehearsal alone. You know the timeline better than I do anyway." "Stop being dramatic.

Once her fever goes down, I'll come find you." I locked my screen. The coordinator walked over with a clipboard. "Ms. Miller, since Mr.

Wright isn't here, we should start the light rehearsal." "He's not coming." I stood up. "Should we still proceed?" "Yes." I walked down the aisle, following the music to the stage.

There was no groom waiting for me, but my steps were incredibly steady. After the rehearsal, I stopped the venue manager. "Ms.

Miller, is there anything else we need to adjust?" I pointed at the massive backdrop on the stage that read: Ethan Wright & Chloe Miller. "Change the groom's name." The manager gasped. "What?" "You don't have to worry about the cost.

Your boss already knows. Every emergency change today will go through me." The manager suddenly understood. "Understood, Ms. Miller.

Who should we change it to?" I handed over a piece of paper with a handwritten name. "This one." "Are you sure? The ceremony is tomorrow..." "I'm sure.

Change the name on the welcome signs, the seating charts, the party favors—everything. I will pay double the fee." "Yes, ma'am." I walked out of the hotel. The sky was getting dark.

Ethan sent a voice message. I could hear the beeping of hospital monitors and Isla's soft coughing in the background. "Chloe, did the rehearsal go well? I have to stay here tonight.

I'll meet you directly at the hotel tomorrow." After listening, I opened his profile on Snapchat and hit block. Yes, Ethan. You can go straight to the hotel tomorrow.

But it won't be your wedding anymore.

The day before the wedding. Ethan finally came home.

When he unlocked the door, I was sitting on the sofa, sipping water. "Chloe, I'm back." He kicked off his shoes and spoke in a relaxed tone. "Isla's fever is down.

Now I can finally focus on our big day." He walked into the living room, threw his coat over the back of the sofa, and sat down next to me. "How was the rehearsal?

No issues, right?" He reached out to put his arm around my shoulder. I held my mug and casually leaned away, just enough to make his hand land on empty air.

Ethan frowned and pulled his hand back. "Still mad? I told you, Isla was really sick.

I couldn't just abandon her." He sighed, his voice dripping with condescending tolerance. "Alright, the wedding is tomorrow.

I'm here now, aren't I?" He stood up, walked over to the coffee table, and pulled his laptop out of his briefcase. "I haven't written my vows yet.

Better get on it." He opened the laptop and connected to the WiFi. I watched his profile. I watched him expertly open that familiar ChatGPT tab. "Write a wedding vow. 800 words.

Make it emotional and express deep, undying love for my fiancée." He tapped away on the keyboard. Soon, paragraphs of gorgeous, flowery prose appeared on the screen.

Ethan stared at the screen, highly satisfied.

He even muttered a few lines aloud. "Meeting you is the greatest miracle of my life..." He turned to look at me. "Chloe, what do you think of this line?" I looked at him.

I looked at the man who was about to marry me, yet couldn't even be bothered to write a single word from his own heart. "It's great," I said softly. "I knew you'd like it." Ethan smiled and copied the text into a Word document.

He was so oblivious that he hadn't even noticed what was missing from the apartment. My plants on the balcony were gone. My skincare products in the bathroom were gone.

And my side of the closet held nothing but empty hangers. He was so sure I could never leave him.

He was so sure I would sleep soundly next to him tonight, just like I had for the past three years. "I'm going to take a shower," Ethan said, closing his laptop. "We have an early morning tomorrow.

You should sleep early too." Soon, the sound of running water came from the bathroom. I stood up and walked to the hallway. My final suitcase was waiting there.

I grabbed the handle and opened the front door. Without looking back, I stepped out into the night. I had booked a hotel room in advance.

Julian Sterling was already waiting for me in the lobby. He was wearing a perfectly tailored black trench coat, leaning against his black Maybach, holding an unlit cigarette.

Behind his goldrimmed glasses, his eyes were deep and sharp. Julian was my college senior, and now, the youngest senior partner at Sterling & Associates.

During this past week, while Ethan was busy moving Isla and fixing her pipes, Julian was the one who helped me draft the prenuptial asset protection agreement.

He was also the one who used his connections to replace the wedding coordinators with people I trusted. "Got everything?" he asked, taking my suitcase. "Yeah." I nodded. "Did Ethan suspect anything?" "He has no idea." Julian raised an eyebrow but didn't pry. "Let's go.

I'm taking you to a proper dinner to celebrate your escape." He put my suitcase in the trunk and opened the passenger door for me. The car glided smoothly onto the main road.

Outside, the city lights blurred past us. "Is everything set for tomorrow?" Julian asked while driving. "Yes." I looked out the window. "I had the wedding coordinators send the updated digital invitations to all of my guests.

As for Ethan's guests...

I used his iPad to log into his Snapchat." "I sent a mass message saying 'The wedding has been canceled due to unforeseen circumstances,' and then logged out." "By the time he realizes it, it'll already be tomorrow." Julian chuckled, his long fingers tapping the steering wheel. "Ruthless.

I like it." I turned to look at him, my voice serious. "Thank you, Julian.

Not just for the legal help, but for putting your own reputation on the line." "We're just helping each other out." Julian smiled playfully, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "My grandfather has been pressuring me to marry lately.

He threatened to cut off my offshore trust fund if I didn't comply." "Rather than marrying some spoiled heiress, I'd much rather partner up with a smart woman like you." He paused, his voice dropping slightly. "Besides, that trust fund includes a penthouse in New York.

You can use it as your new design studio. It's a winwin." I looked at his sharp profile.

The rumors said Julian Sterling was a coldblooded, calculating lawyer who only cared about profit.

But I knew that in this ridiculous "marriage of convenience," he was doing everything he could to protect my dignity.

He turned the wheel, and the car entered a quiet street. "I picked out a dark red suit for tomorrow.

Paired with your white dress, we are going to look stunning." I looked at him. "Thank you, Julian." "Don't mention it," he said, waving his hand. "Like I said, it's a partnership.

I handle your legal battles, and in exchange, you play along with this marriage until my grandfather backs off." I didn't say anything.

I just leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. Tomorrow, the game would be over.

The day of the wedding. 6:00 AM. Ethan woke up to complete silence. He reflexively reached out to the other side of the bed, only to feel cold, empty sheets.

He opened his eyes, frowning. The space beside him was completely empty. "Chloe?" He sat up and called out. No response.

He threw off the blanket, slid into his slippers, and walked out of the bedroom. The living room was so quiet that he could hear the ticking of the wall clock.

The kitchen was dark, and the bathroom door was wide open. He walked to the entrance and saw my house slippers sitting neatly on the shoe rack. Ethan's frown deepened.

He pulled out his phone and dialed my number. "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable..." The cold, automated voice echoed in the empty apartment.

He tossed his phone onto the sofa in frustration. "What is she throwing a tantrum about now?" He assumed I had gone to the hotel or a salon early because he had ignored me the night before.

He walked into the bathroom to wash up. But as he reached for his toothbrush, he froze. My toothbrush and cup were gone. He yanked open the medicine cabinet.

It was completely empty. All of my skincare products had vanished. A sudden wave of panic pricked at his nerves. He rushed back to the bedroom and pulled open the wardrobe.

My side of the closet was bare, holding nothing but a few empty hangers. Ethan froze in place. His brain went completely numb as he stared at the empty hangers.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang loudly. Ethan snapped out of his daze and rushed to open the door. "Chloe!" He threw the door open.

Standing outside were his groomsmen in their tuxedos, along with Isla in a pink bridesmaid dress. "Hey, Ethan! The limo is waiting downstairs.

Where's the bride?" the best man asked with a grin, peeking inside.

Isla stepped forward, blinking innocently. "Ethan, is Chloe still getting her makeup done?" Ethan's face was completely pale.

He looked at the crowd, his throat dry. "She... she might have gone to the hotel early." "To the hotel?" the best man blinked. "Since when does the bride go to the venue on her own?

That's not how it works." Isla gasped, covering her mouth. "Is Chloe still mad at me? It's all my fault.

I shouldn't have borrowed her dress yesterday..." Her eyes welled up with tears as she looked at Ethan. "Ethan, maybe I shouldn't go.

I don't want Chloe to be unhappy when she sees me." On any other day, Ethan would have comforted her immediately.

But right now, his mind was filled with the image of those empty hangers. "Stop talking," he snapped at Isla. "She's just being difficult.

Let's go straight to the hotel." He threw on his custom suit in a rush, his tie slightly crooked. All the way to the hotel, Ethan kept calling my phone. Still unavailable.

He even called the wedding coordinator. "Ms. Miller? She left right after the rehearsal yesterday, sir.

We haven't seen her today," the coordinator replied in a professional, distant tone.

Ethan's knuckles turned white as he gripped his phone. "What on earth is she playing at?" he hissed, staring out the window at the passing streets.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Isla looked back at him. "Ethan, don't worry. Chloe probably just wants to make you anxious.

Girls love playing these little games." Her voice was sweet, but every word painted me as a dramatic attentionseeker.

Ethan took a deep breath, forcing down his panic. "She better have a damn good explanation for this." The car stopped in front of the hotel.

Ethan pushed the door open and marched toward the grand ballroom. He had prepared a whole lecture in his head to unleash on me the moment he saw me.

He was going to teach me a lesson about how childish this little stunt was. He crossed the lobby and walked toward the entrance of the ballroom.

But when he looked up and saw the massive welcome sign at the entrance, he froze. He felt as if he had been struck by lightning.

Surrounded by gorgeous floral arrangements, the goldembossed sign read: Julian Sterling & Chloe Miller. There was no mention of Ethan Wright.