My Ex Left Me To Burn In A Fire — So I Married The Firefighter Who Saved Me
Part 1
I stood at the altar, my lungs burning as thick black smoke consumed the chapel.
The floral arrangements were already ash, the stained glass windows shattering from the heat.
My wedding dress, a cheap hand-me-down from my stepmother Brenda, was heavy with soot.
I coughed, dropping to my knees.
Through the haze, I saw the man I was supposed to marry just moments ago.
Craig was sprinting toward the only clear exit.
He wasn’t alone.
His hand was wrapped tightly around the wrist of my stepsister, Heather.
Without a single backward glance or moment of hesitation, my fiancé abandoned me to the flames to save the woman he was secretly sleeping with.
My vision blurred as the ceiling beams groaned above me.
I screamed for help, but the roar of the flames swallowed my voice.
The heat blistered my skin.
I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.
Then, heavy boots slammed against the burning floorboards.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me effortlessly.
A thick jacket was thrown over my head, shielding my face from the falling embers.
I was carried out into the cool night air, coughing violently as I collapsed onto the wet grass.
The firefighter knelt beside me, pulling off his helmet.
He was covered in soot, his chest heaving, but his eyes were steady and calm.
He handed me an oxygen mask.
I took a ragged breath, the cold air stinging my throat.
Before I could even thank him, a familiar voice cut through the noise of the sirens.
Heather was standing by an ambulance, her pristine dress barely smudged, clinging to Craig’s arm.
Brenda pressed a hand over her heart, letting out a loud gasp every time a paramedic walked past.
My stepmother noticed me sitting on the grass.
She sauntered over, her heels sinking into the mud, her perfectly drawn lips pressing into a thin line as her eyes narrowed.
She whispered that it was a shame my big day was ruined.
She didn’t even try to hide the smirk.
Craig walked up behind her, fixing his gaze firmly on the ground as he muttered that the wedding was off and he actually loved Heather.
I ripped the engagement ring off my finger, hurling the diamond into the mud at his feet before declaring we were done.
But the betrayal ran deeper than a broken engagement.
My father had passed away two years ago, leaving his entire estate to Brenda.
The only thing he left me was his childhood home, a small property by the lake.
But the will had a cruel stipulation Brenda had somehow convinced him to add.
I could only inherit the house if I was married by my twenty-fifth birthday.
Which was exactly one week away.
Brenda had orchestrated this entire nightmare.
She knew Craig was weak, knew Heather could tempt him, and timed the implosion perfectly.
If I didn’t marry, the house defaulted to Brenda, leaving me with absolutely nothing.
I sat on the bumper of the fire engine, tears of frustration mixing with the ash on my face.
I muttered out loud that I was going to lose the last thing my father ever gave me.
The firefighter who saved me was standing nearby, wiping soot from his face with a towel.
The man paused, his expression turning thoughtful as he studied me.
Walking over with steady steps, he introduced himself simply as Tyler.
Sitting down next to me, his broad shoulders practically blocked out the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles.
Without missing a beat, he admitted to overhearing my problem.
A strange tension settled between us before he casually mentioned needing to get married, too.
Family obligations, he vaguely explained, people pressuring him to settle down.
He suggested a mutually beneficial arrangement.
A contract marriage.
I stared at him, my mind spinning from the smoke and the shock.
He was a complete stranger, a man who risked his life for a living.
But looking into his eyes, I saw no deception, only a quiet, steady resolve.
I had nothing left to lose.
I agreed.
We signed the papers the very next morning at the courthouse.
Moving into his rented apartment later that afternoon, the surprisingly expensive furniture immediately caught my attention.
Assuming his landlord merely had good taste, I chose not to pry.
Asking questions felt entirely too risky.
My only focus was simply surviving the week.
But Brenda wasn’t going to let me win that easily.
Upon discovering the courthouse record, she slammed the printed certificate onto her mahogany desk, her eyes narrowing as she studied our rushed signatures.
She started showing up unannounced, trying to catch us in a lie.
Heather even orchestrated a setup, tricking me into working as a server at a high-society banquet.
She thought she could humiliate me in front of the city’s elite.
She poured her drink on the floor, demanding I clean it up while her wealthy friends laughed.
When I refused, she deliberately bumped into me, sending me tumbling backwards into the decorative pool.
I couldn’t swim.
The water rushed over my head, panic seizing my chest as the laughter echoed above the surface.
Once again, Tyler was there.
Pulling me from the water, Tyler’s jaw clenched tight enough to pop as he stared down Heather and her friends.
A thick, dry jacket was quickly wrapped around my violently shivering shoulders.
Instead of yelling or causing a scene, his voice remained dangerously calm.
Looking dead at my stepsister, Tyler simply informed her that her time was rapidly running out.
We went straight to the hospital to get me checked for secondary drowning.
I was lying in the observation bed, Tyler holding my hand in the quiet room.
The door slammed open.
Brenda marched in, carrying a thick manila folder.
She curled her upper lip and visibly wiped her hands on her skirt after looking at Tyler, calling him a pathetic blue-collar distraction.
She slapped the manila folder onto my lap, her twisted smile confirming she had just found the one legal loophole that would destroy my fake marriage and strip me of my father’s house forever.
