The Best Mans Sick Wedding Gift

When I opened my eyes, I was back in the lions den.

Specifically, I was standing at the altar of my own wedding. To my right, Trevormy best friend and best man, a guy who treated life like a series of cheap prankswas already holding the microphone, a predatory glint in his eyes. He was midway through his toast, that smug, punchable smirk plastered across his face.

He let out a sharp, theatrical bark of a laugh, leaning into the mic. "So, I probably shouldn't mention this, but our boy here had a little 'emergency' at the VIP dermatology clinic last month. Honestly, looking at him then, I thought for sure Diana would be walking down the aisle with a ghost today."

The ballroom, filled with three hundred guests, erupted into a confused, judgmental murmur. Trevor held up his hands, the picture of faux-innocence. "Hey, hey! Dont look at me like that. Im just a guy with a big mouth and zero filter. Its a joke, people! Lets not make it a thing."

In my previous life, I had spiraled. I had stood there, humiliated, stammering out an explanationthat it was a simple procedure to remove a suspicious mole on the sole of my foot.

But Trevor hadn't let up. Hed slapped his knee, howling, asking the crowd why a "mole removal" required a "sugar mama" to sign the consent forms. Hed asked me why I was getting so defensive over a "harmless joke." That "joke" was the spark that burned my life down. Dianas conservative, old-money parents were mortified. Diana herself had slapped me in front of everyone, called off the wedding, and left me to a slow, suffocating death by depression and eventually, suicide.

The memory hit me like a physical blow. Beside me, I felt Dianas posture stiffen, her breath hitching in a precursor to rage.

This time, I didn't stammer. I didn't hide.

I reached out, my fingers steady, and grabbed the microphone from Trevors hand. I didn't pull away. Instead, I shoved it right back toward his mouth, my lips curling into a cold, terrifyingly calm smile.

"Don't stop now, Trevor," I said, my voice amplified and echoing through the hall. "Tell them everything. Give us the play-by-play. I want to see exactly how many 'jokes' you have left when the truth actually hits the floor."

The mic was inches from Trevors lips.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. In his mind, I was the soft touch, the quiet guy who hated confrontation and would rather swallow glass than cause a scene in public. He wasn't prepared for me to push back in front of the entire social register.

He jerked his head back, playing the part of the startled victim. "Whoa, Beckett! Take it easy, man. Youre gonna blow out the speakers. You know how I amI just say things. Ive got no filter! Its your big day, dont be such a buzzkill."

I gripped the microphone tighter, stepping into his personal space.

"If were going to joke, lets go all the way," I said. My voice was like a scalpel, cutting through the heavy air of the ballroom. "Tell them what you saw at the clinic. Tell them what you heard. Don't leave out a single detail. Lets make sure everyone has a real reason to laugh."

A flicker of malicious triumph danced in Trevor's eyes. He thought I was bluffing. He thought I was handing him the rope to hang me.

"Beckett, buddy, don't force my hand here. Everyones watching," he said, his voice rising, ensuring the back row could hear. "I really didn't mean to bring up the... older woman. You know, the one with the noticeable baby bump?"

He paused for dramatic effect, then practically shouted into the room, "I swear! I definitely didn't see that woman paying your medical bills or signing your surgery consent forms as your 'primary partner'!"

He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, widening his eyes in mock horror.

"Shoot! There I go again. My big, stupid mouth." He turned toward Diana and her mother, his voice dripping with fake sincerity. "Diana, Mrs. Whitlock, pleasedon't listen to me. Im sure that lady was just a distant relative or something. Lets not jump to conclusions!"

The silence that followed was absolute. It lasted exactly three seconds before the room detonated.

The whispers were like a swarm of hornets.

"Is he serious? Cheating on Diana with an older woman? And hes got that kind of disease?"

"He looks so refined, but hes just another piece of trash. The Whitlocks must be humiliated."

Diana, who had been a statue of white silk beside me, finally snapped. She lunged forward, her eyes bloodshot with fury. "Beckett! What the hell is he talking about?"

At the head table, the family matriarcha woman who prized "reputation" above the lives of her own childrenslammed her hand onto the marble tabletop. The sound of clinking crystal echoed like a gunshot.

"Beckett!" she hissed, her face a mask of cold porcelain. "The Whitlock name is built on integrity. We do not marry into filth. If you don't explain this right now, consider this farce over!"

I watched them. I watched the frantic energy, the judgment, the vultures circling. I felt nothing but a strange, icy clarity. I turned to Diana, my voice flat.

"Diana, hes a known liar who calls his malice 'humor.' Do you really take his word as gospel?"

I saw Trevor in the corner of my eye, practically vibrating with glee. I knew what was coming. I knew that the more she believed him now, the harder she would fall later.

Diana hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. But Trevor wasn't done. He slapped his thigh and let out a boisterous, ugly laugh.

"Oh, come on, Beckett! Don't try to gaslight the poor girl. If youve got nothing to hide, why are you so desperate for her to ignore me?"

Trevor stepped closer, his expensive leather shoes clicking on the floor. "Are you going to tell this room, under oath, that you weren't at the First Mercy Dermatology VIP wing on the 15th of last month? Because if you swear you weren't there, Ill get on my knees and apologize right now."

Every eye in the room was a needle, stitching me into a corner.

The doubt in Dianas eyes vanished, replaced by a searing, humiliated rage. "Answer him, Beckett!" she screamed, her voice trembling. "Were you at First Mercy on the 15th?"

I looked at her, my expression a calm, stilled lake. "I was."

Another roar of outrage swept the room. My parents were in the front row, looking like they were about to collapse. My mother tried to stand, her eyes red, but a group of "friends" held her back, their faces twisted in gossipy pity.

"He was there to have a mole removed from his foot!" my mother cried out, her voice breaking. "It wasn't what you think!"

Trevor laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. "Right, right! A mole! Of course, Mrs. Miller." He turned to the crowd, grinning. "But tell me, does a mole removal usually require a random 'sugar mama' to sign the papers? Because I totally get it, man. Some 'moles' are more complicated than others!"

Dianas mother marched onto the stage like a grand inquisitor. "You disgusting animal. You have the nerve to stand here and lie about a mole?" She pointed a trembling finger at me. "Do you think were idiots? Do you think the Whitlocks are a dumping ground for street trash?"

Diana finally broke. She reached up, ripped the Vera Wang veil from her hair, and threw it at my feet.

"I thought you were a gentleman, Beckett. I thought you were different. But youre just a pathetic little man crawling into bed with whoever pays the bill. Im done."

I looked down at the silk veil on the floor. The last shred of my affection for her dissolved.

"Fine," I said, the word short and sharp. I reached up and unpinned the boutonniere from my lapel. "If youre so eager to take his 'jokes' as truth, then this wedding is over."

Mrs. Whitlock didn't miss a beat. She put her hands on her hips. "You're damn right it's over! And youll pay back every cent of the fifty-thousand-dollar family contribution. Every steak, every bottle of champagneyoure paying for it all!"

I didn't even blink. I pulled out my phone, opened my banking app, and within three taps, transferred the fifty thousand dollars back into Dianas account.

"The money is back. Were done. Don't contact me again."

I turned to leave the stage, but Trevor grabbed my arm.

"Whoa, Beckett. You cant just walk away. Thats a confession, isnt it?" He turned toward the groomsmen, zeroing in on a younger guy in the back. "Cody! You were interning at First Mercy last month, weren't you? Tell everyone what you saw!"

So, he wanted a witness.

I stood still, waiting to see how the trap he built would eventually snap on his own neck.

Cody, a distant cousin of Dianas and a nursing student, looked like he wanted to vanish into the floorboards. Trevor dragged him to the mic.

"Cody, youre an honest kid. Tell your cousin the truth!" Trevors eyes were manic now. "Didn't you see a guy in a tan trench coat, wearing a mask and a hat, being led into the VIP surgical suite by a wealthy-looking older woman?"

Cody stammered, his eyes darting everywhere but at me. "I... I was working the intake desk that morning..." He swallowed hard. "I did see someone... he had the same build as Beckett. And there was a woman with him. She was... older. Dressed in high-end labels."

That was the final nail. The room exploded in a chorus of "shame" and "disgust."

"I knew it! The best man wasn't lying. He was just trying to save his friend's fiance from a nightmare!"

"Get out of here, Beckett! Have some dignity and leave!"

Mrs. Whitlocks face was purple. "What do you have to say now? Even our own family saw you, you beast!"

Diana raised her hand to slap me, but stopped herself, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I was so blind. I can't believe I almost married you."

Trevor was beaming, the corners of his mouth practically reaching his ears. He let out a theatrical sigh and patted Dianas shoulder. "Im so sorry, Di. I really am. Im just a straight shooter. If I hadn't risked our friendship to speak up today, youd be wearing that 'green hat' for the rest of your life."

He looked at me, his eyes full of mockery. "Honestly, Beckett, what was the draw? Was it the money? Did she remind you of your mother? Or did you just like the way she smelled?"

Trevor crossed his arms and cleared his throat. "Cody, what did you tell me about that womans perfume? Didn't you say she was wearing that limited-edition fragrance Diana just imported from France?"

Cody flinched but nodded quickly. "Yeah... it was that scent. It's very distinct. I wouldn't forget it."

Trevor slapped his knee again. "Hear that? The same perfume! Beckett, you cant tell me that's a coincidence."

I watched him. The more details he invented, the more weight the hammer would have when it fell. I didn't argue. I just gave him a small, cold smile.

"The perfume is a nice touch, Trevor. Is that all youve got?"

Trevors eyes flickered, and then, in front of everyone, he lunged for the jacket I had draped over the back of the chair.

"I didn't want to go this far, but youre just too thick-skinned!" He held the jacket up high like a trophy. "Don't blame me, folks. I was just helping him stuff envelopes earlier and I felt something... hard... in the pocket."

He shook the jacket violently.

Clatter.

A pill bottle, a crumpled diagnostic report, and a gold-embossed hotel keycard tumbled onto the floor.

Trevor lunged for the report, holding it up for the front row to see. "Look at this! Syphilis. Stage two!"

He kicked the pill bottle toward the crowd. "Doxycycline. The standard treatment for a disgusting, contagious disease!"

He mocked a look of heartbreak. "Beckett, man... you called this a 'mole removal'? Since when are moles contagious? Oh, wait! There I go again, talking too much. Maybe he just found this report on the street? Maybe the pills are for a stray dog? Its a joke, guys! Don't take me seriously!"

The room was in total chaos. The vitriol was deafening.

"Vile! Absolutely vile!"

"The Whitlocks are lucky they found out now!"

Mrs. Whitlock actually fainted into the arms of a bridesmaid. "Kill him! Diana, call the police! Hes trying to poison our family!"

Diana was shaking, looking at the pills and the hotel card like they were radioactive. "You... you brought your STD meds to our wedding? You're a monster, Beckett! A filthy, lying dog!"

She grabbed a heavy bottle of Cabernet from a nearby table and swung it at my head. "Go to hell!"

I stepped aside, my eyes cold. The bottle smashed against the marble steps, red wine and glass shards spraying everywhere.

Trevor stepped in, playing the hero, grabbing Dianas arm. "Easy, Di. Hes not worth the prison time." He looked at me, his face glowing with victory. "Beckett, just give it up. Admit you messed up. Maybe if you get on your knees and beg for forgiveness, they wont sue you for everything youre worth. Im trying to help you here, man!"

The guests were screaming at me now, fingers pointed, faces twisted.

I walked forward slowly. I ignored the screaming, ignored Dianas murderous glare. I stood in front of Trevor and looked down at the pills and the keycard.

"Trevor," I said quietly. "Youre absolutely sure those came out of my jacket?"

"Duh!" Trevor cocked his head, his chin held high. "Everyone saw it. Unless youre suggesting Im a magician? I don't have time for your games, man."

"Youre sure?" I repeated, my voice dropping to a sub-zero temperature.

"I swear on my life. They fell right out of your pocket."

"Good," I nodded, a jagged, icy smile spreading across my face. "Since youre swearing on your life..."

I reached out and snatched the backup microphone from the stunned emcee standing nearby.

"Then I think its time everyone saw something much more interesting."

Trevors smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "What... what are you talking about? Stop stalling."

I didn't answer him. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number on speaker.

Trevor tried to keep up the bravado. "Who are you calling? Your lawyer? A paid actor? You think you can talk your way out of a positive Syphilis test?"

I let out a short, dry laugh. "I don't need to talk my way out of anything, Trevor. You built the stage. Im just here for the final act."

As soon as the words left my mouth...

BAM!

The heavy oak doors of the ballroom were kicked open from the outside.

The shouting died instantly.

Three hundred people held their breath as the light from the hallway flooded in. And the look on Trevors facethe smug, triumphant grinfroze into a mask of pure, unadulterated terror.