My Fiancé Called Me A “Pig” On The Eve Of Our Wedding — So I Married His Worst Enemy
Part 1
I stood on the circular pedestal in the exclusive downtown boutique, staring at the three-way mirror.
The air smelled of expensive vanilla and suffocating expectations.
Wives of syndicate bosses were expected to be size zero trophies wrapped in quiet submission.
I was an anomaly, taking up too much space in a world that demanded I shrink.
The head seamstress murmured around a mouthful of pins, frantically adjusting the custom ivory silk.
Begging her not to pull it any tighter, I reminded her I needed to breathe during my vows.
I was marrying Tyler, the ambitious golden boy and underboss of the Southside syndicate.
It was a strategic alliance brokered by my father, who controlled the lucrative shipping routes.
Tyler had been charming, bringing me hydrangeas and praising my mind.
I had allowed myself to believe he saw past my weight.
One of the assistants chimed from the doorway, announcing that Tyler had arrived for the final approval.
My heart fluttered with a sudden, nervous energy.
I asked the attendants for a moment alone so I could surprise him.
As I approached the heavy velvet drape, I heard muffled but unmistakable voices.
It was Tyler, speaking with a woman whose breathless laugh froze the blood in my veins.
The voice belonged to my own cousin, Brenda.
She giggled, urging Tyler to go in and see his bride showing off her tent.
I stopped dead, my hand hovering over the velvet fabric.
Tyler groaned with a venomous disgust I had never heard from him before.
He admitted he had taken two shots of liquor just to stomach looking at me.
Brenda teased him right back, and then I heard the distinct, wet sound of their lips meeting.
She asked him how he was going to manage the wedding night without getting crushed.
He said he would turn off the lights and pretend he was touching Brenda.
Sneering confidently, he added that once the wedding ring secured my father’s shipping routes, he was banishing me to the suburbs.
Those words struck me like a physical blow to the chest, knocking the wind out of my lungs.
Every fear I had ever harbored about my body had just been weaponized.
Most women in my position would have wiped their tears and walked down the aisle anyway.
It was just business, but I was my father’s daughter, and I had a spine.
I threw the velvet curtains aside, making Tyler and Brenda jump apart instantly.
Brenda’s lipstick was smeared noticeably across Tyler’s sharp jawline.
He stammered my name, his eyes widening as he took in my flushed, tear-streaked face.
I told him I had heard enough, my voice refusing to shake.
Yanking the massive diamond engagement ring off my finger, scraping my knuckle painfully.
Without a second thought, I threw the diamond directly at his face, watching it bounce off his cheekbone with a sharp smack.
Staring him down, I informed him that he wasn’t getting the ports, and he certainly wasn’t getting me.
Tyler lunged forward, grabbing my bare arm with an entirely too tight grip.
He cruelly demanded to know who else would ever want someone looking like me.
I swore I would rather be alone forever than share a bed with a parasite.
Ripping my arm from his grip, I turned around, and demanded the seamstresses cut me out of the dress.
Thirty minutes later, I walked out of the boutique in an oversized trench coat, leaving a looming gang war in my wake.
I couldn’t bear to look my father in the eye and admit my fiancé didn’t want me because I was fat.
Instead, I found myself sitting in a dimly lit, high-end cocktail lounge known for its absolute discretion.
A voice, low and rich like rolling thunder, noted that he heard the Southside boys were missing a bride.
I looked up to find Craig, the notoriously ruthless boss of the rival Northside outfit, standing by my booth.
He slid into the leather booth opposite me without even asking for permission.
His dark eyes, sharp as obsidian, locked directly onto mine.
I tried to keep my voice steady, asking if he was here to kill me to strike a blow against my father.
He calmly stated that if he wanted me dead, I never would have made it through the front doors.
Word on the street was that I had publicly humiliated Tyler, and tomorrow my family would force the engagement back together.
I gripped my glass until my knuckles turned white, swearing I would never go back to that rat.
Craig agreed, noting that I had too much fire to settle for someone so weak.
He explained that if my father allied with Tyler’s family, they would come after his territory.
I asked him exasperatedly what he wanted from me, assuming he needed an assassination.
He leaned forward, resting his massive forearms on the table as the scent of sandalwood washed over me.
Without hesitation, he told me he wanted me to marry him.
I stared at the most dangerous man in the city, my pulse thundering against my ribs as I realized he was entirely serious.
