My Sister Stole My Groom At The Altar — So I Married The Billionaire Duke Who Ruined Them
Part 1
My Sister Stole My Groom At The Altar — So I Married The Billionaire Duke Who Ruined Them.
The scent of white lilies was supposed to mark the happiest day of my life.
Instead, it became the stench of my ultimate betrayal.
I stood in the dimly lit stone corridor of the church.
I was wearing a heavy silk gown meant for a future countess.
It was embroidered with thousands of tiny pearls.
My father was supposed to walk me down the aisle ten minutes ago.
He was a man ruled by the clock.
To be late for his eldest daughter’s wedding was unthinkable.
Unease fluttered in my chest.
I had loved Thomas quietly and deeply for three years.
He was handsome and charming, though he lacked a certain fortitude.
I believed his gentle promises.
I gathered my heavy skirts and pushed the oak doors open just a fraction.
I only wanted to see if Thomas was pacing nervously at the altar.
Instead, I saw a nightmare painted in stained glass light.
Thomas stood there in his tailored morning coat.
The archbishop stood before him in ceremonial vestments.
But the woman standing beside Thomas was not me.
She wore my family’s heirloom lace veil.
It was the very veil I had explicitly asked to be left in my dressing room until the final moment.
She turned her head slightly.
It was Anne, my nineteen-year-old sister.
My sweet, supposedly innocent sister.
She had claimed she was too ill with a migraine to attend my wedding.
She had always looked at Thomas with wide, adoring eyes.
And standing behind them, giving the bride away, was my father.
His jaw was set in rigid determination.
He was sanctioning this.
He was actively participating in the theft of my life.
The archbishop’s voice echoed through the massive cathedral.
He asked Thomas if he took Anne to be his wife.
Thomas closed his eyes briefly.
A flicker of profound guilt passed over his features.
He said he did.
The hushed whispers of five hundred elite guests merged into a deafening roar in my ears.
They all knew.
They were sitting there, watching my sister marry my betrothed.
My mind raced, piecing together the subtle anomalies of the past week.
Anne’s sudden insistence on keeping Thomas entertained in the gardens.
The hushed, heated arguments emanating from my father’s study late at night.
The sudden visit from the family solicitor two days prior.
A compromise, I realized with sickening clarity.
Anne had somehow trapped him in a situation that demanded marriage.
And my father had chosen to sacrifice me to cover her sins.
They expected me to stay in that waiting room.
They expected me to weep in silence and fade into the background.
A terrifying, unfamiliar fire ignited in my chest.
The shock morphed into a cold, diamond-hard fury.
I pushed the doors open completely.
The ancient hinges groaned, slicing through the solemnity.
Five hundred heads snapped toward the back of the church.
A collective gasp sucked the air from the room.
I stood there, the true bride, my face a mask of absolute devastation.
Thomas turned, the blood draining entirely from his face.
Anne let out a pathetic whimper, shrinking behind his arm.
My father closed his eyes in defeat.
I took a step forward.
The rustle of my silk sounded like drawn swords in the dead silence.
The crushing weight of hundreds of pitying eyes suddenly became too much.
My knees buckled.
I stumbled forward toward the cold stone floor.
But I never hit the ground.
A hand clad in immaculate leather shot out from the shadows and caught my waist.
The grip was unyielding.
A deep, resonant voice murmured right beside my ear to steady myself.
I looked up through blurred vision.
It was Richard.
The Duke, a man possessing vast, terrifying wealth and a ruthless reputation.
He was the last man I expected to see.
His intense gaze locked on my pale face.
He slowly righted me, his grip acting as a physical anchor against my panic.
Thomas gasped from the altar, forgetting all protocol.
Richard finally looked toward the front of the church.
His lip curled into a smile that contained zero warmth.
His voice boomed through the vaulted ceilings, telling Thomas not to let him interrupt the hasty arrangements.
Richard announced he had merely stepped out of the shadows to claim what Thomas was too foolish to hold on to.
A fresh wave of gasps erupted from the congregation.
My father stepped forward, his face flushed with embarrassment, accusing Richard of overstepping.
Richard laughed, a low and chilling sound.
He told my father he had turned the church into a theater for deceit.
He pointed out that my father had sacrificed his finest daughter to cover the indiscretions of his weakest.
Anne was openly weeping now.
Thomas looked as though he wished the stone floor would swallow him whole.
Richard turned his attention back to me.
The harshness in his eyes melted into a strange, burning intensity.
He spoke in a low register, offering to escort me away from the farce.
He told me I was destined for far more than a mere viscount.
My world was in ashes.
But in his eyes, I saw a path out of the flames.
He was offering me the ultimate shield.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and raised my chin.
I placed my trembling hand firmly on his arm.
I told him I would be honored.
Without another glance at the ruined wedding party, he led me back down the aisle.
The crowd parted for us like the sea.
We stepped out into the crisp afternoon air.
A magnificent black carriage waited by the curb.
The footman sprang forward.
Richard handed me in with surprising gentleness.
The carriage lurched forward, leaving the scandal behind.
The adrenaline faded, leaving behind a freezing grief.
I stared blindly out the window.
A single tear escaped down my cheek.
Richard watched me from the opposite seat, telling me to cry if I must.
He said I had been betrayed by everyone meant to protect me.
I wiped the tear away and straightened my spine.
I told him I would not waste tears on Thomas or my sister.
He looked deeply satisfied.
He called Thomas a fool who had allowed himself to be trapped by a scheming child.
I stared at him, realizing the truth.
I asked him if he knew about the betrayal before it happened.
He leaned back against the plush leather cushions with a dark smirk.
He confessed he had known about their secret arrangement for days.
My shock gave way to a sudden, sharp anger.
I demanded to know why he had let me put on my wedding dress and walk into that church.
He leaned forward, a dangerous glint in his eye, and confessed exactly why he needed them to humiliate me.
