My Fiance Left Me At The Altar For An Heiress — So I Married His Worst Enemy
Part 1
The scent of thousands of imported white roses hung thick and suffocating in the air.
Aunt Mary’s gloved hand shook violently as she pressed the crumpled piece of paper into my palm.
The priest had stopped speaking three minutes ago.
The silence in the cavernous church was no longer expectant.
It was toxic.
Four hundred of the city’s most elite families sat in the pews behind me.
They were waiting for the social event of the decade.
I unfolded the note, the heavy silk of my fifty-thousand-dollar wedding gown rustling in the deafening silence.
Brian’s handwriting was rushed and smeared across the page.
He wrote that the debt was too great and he could not go through with it.
He wrote that Brenda Smith’s tech fortune would save his failing real estate empire.
He wrote that he was already on a plane to elope.
A low, collective murmur began to ripple through the church like a rising tide.
I could feel hundreds of eyes burning into my back.
They were stripping me of my dignity and my future.
My family was secretly bankrupt.
Decades of brutal legal warfare over our manufacturing patents had completely drained our accounts.
Brian’s vast wealth was supposed to be our salvation.
Without it, the creditors would descend on our estate by nightfall.
Aunt Mary grabbed my arm, whispering frantically that a car was waiting in the alley.
She pleaded with me to hide at the country house until the scandal blew over.
I refused to scurry away like a rat.
I tore Brian’s note into tiny, jagged pieces and let them fall like snow onto the marble floor.
I turned my back on the altar and walked down the center aisle.
The whispers died instantly, replaced by a stunned silence.
Guests shrank back in the pews as if my misfortune were contagious.
I pushed the heavy mahogany doors open myself.
A freezing, unseasonal downpour lashed the city streets.
The rain soaked through my delicate lace veil in seconds.
My white satin heels sank deep into the mud of the gutter.
I did not call for a car.
I simply walked.
I walked for two miles through the relentless storm.
The freezing rain washed away my tears before I even realized I was crying.
The hem of my dress turned black with soot and street grime.
The thirty pounds of wet silk grew agonizingly heavy.
I had a destination in mind.
There was only one man in the city with enough wealth and pure ruthlessness to crush Brian Davis and the Smith empire.
Craig Mercer.
He was the billionaire CEO who had fought my late father in court for twenty years.
Craig was known in the corporate world for his icy demeanor and a complete lack of mercy.
He was my family’s greatest enemy.
Right now, he was my only hope.
The Mercer estate stood like a silent, judging fortress in the gloom.
I dragged myself up the wide stone steps.
My hands were entirely numb, my lips blue from the cold.
I raised the heavy brass knocker and let it fall against the door three times.
Minutes ticked by in agonizing slowness.
Finally, the locks clicked and the heavy door swung inward.
Greg, Craig’s longtime assistant, stood in the threshold.
He took one look at my ruined, mud-covered gown and actually took a step back in horror.
I told him I needed to see Craig immediately regarding a matter of devastating importance.
Greg stammered about how I was expected at the altar.
I pushed past him, leaving a thick trail of muddy water across the pristine foyer rugs.
I stood under the massive crystal chandelier, shivering violently and leaving a dark puddle on the marble.
Footsteps echoed from the top of the grand, sweeping staircase.
Craig descended slowly.
He wore dark trousers and a crisp white shirt with the collar completely undone.
A half-empty glass of amber liquid rested in his strong hand.
He stopped dead on the middle step, his dark eyes locking onto my ruined veil and muddy dress.
The silence in the foyer became a living, breathing thing.
He walked down the remaining stairs and stopped mere inches from me.
He smelled of rain and expensive sandalwood.
Craig pointed out that I was ruining his ancestral carpets.
I told him the mud was an improvement.
A fleeting, dangerous smirk touched the corner of his mouth.
He ordered Greg to bring tea and dry towels to his private study and dismiss the entire staff.
He reached out, his large, warm hand touching the side of my freezing neck to check my pulse.
He noted that I was freezing to death and bleeding.
I had scraped my knuckles against a wrought iron gate without realizing it.
I told him I had a proposal for him.
Craig stepped forward, slipped one arm under my knees, and swept me off my feet.
My wet, filthy dress pressed directly against his crisp shirt.
He carried me down the shadowed hallway and kicked the heavy oak doors of his study open.
A massive fire roared in the marble hearth.
Craig deposited me gently onto a leather sofa.
He unpinned my ruined veil and tossed the expensive fabric onto the floor.
He shrugged off his dark suit jacket and draped it over my shivering shoulders.
The heavy coat enveloped me, carrying his scent.
He handed me a crystal glass of brandy.
I took a trembling sip, the liquid burning down my throat and bringing a flush to my cheeks.
I delivered the news of Brian’s betrayal like a battlefield report.
Craig leaned against his massive mahogany desk.
He crossed his arms, his ruined shirt clinging to his chest.
He stated that he was already aware of Brian’s weak character.
He asked why I brought this tragic comedy to his doorstep when we were bitter rivals.
I reminded him that he was the only man capable of destroying Brian.
I took a deep breath and admitted the fatal secret.
I told him my family was completely bankrupt.
Craig’s expression remained perfectly still, but his eyes darkened.
I told him I would marry him today.
I offered him undisputed legal ownership of the manufacturing patents he had spent a fortune trying to take from us.
I told him he would gain the patents, and I would gain the protection of his name.
I gripped the brandy glass until my knuckles turned white.
I set my ultimate condition.
I demanded he use the Mercer wealth to utterly obliterate Brian Davis.
I wanted him to buy Brian’s debts and completely destroy the Smith tech empire.
Craig stared at me in silence.
The rain drummed violently against the windowpanes.
He slowly pushed off the desk and walked to a heavy wall safe.
He spun the dials, opened the door, and withdrew a thick leather ledger.
He walked back and tossed the heavy book onto the sofa beside me.
He commanded me to open it.
I flipped the heavy cover.
The name written at the very top of the ledger stopped the breath in my throat.
