My Fiancé Cheated On Our Wedding Day — So I Married His Worst Nightmare
Part 2
The silence in the church shifted from shock to suffocating, primal fear.
Tyler let go of my wrist as if my skin had caught fire.
He was trembling.
He was actually vibrating with terror.
His eyes were wide, fixed on the approaching man.
I watched, fascinated, as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple and dropped onto his stiff white collar.
He whimpered under his breath.
The man reached the altar.
He didn’t look at the priest.
He didn’t look at the two hundred terrified guests.
He looked at Tyler with eyes that were a flat, lightless black.
When he spoke, his voice was a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in the floorboards beneath my feet.
He addressed Tyler by name.
He calmly stated that Tyler owed him something.
The priest backed away, pressing himself flat against the marble altar.
Tyler choked out that he had the money and just needed a few more days.
He claimed he was going to pay him tomorrow using the wedding gifts.
The man tilted his head a fraction of an inch.
A sharp, cynical smirk touched the corner of his mouth.
It wasn’t a smile.
It was a blade.
He repeated the word tomorrow with a slow, mockingly thoughtful tone.
He announced to the room that Tyler had stolen three million dollars from his shipping ledger.
He explained that Tyler filtered it through a shell company in the Caymans to buy a sports car and pay for this wedding.
A woman in the front row let out a soft, terrified sob.
One of the armed men in the back simply turned his head toward the sound, and the sobbing choked off instantly.
I stood there in my heavy, suffocating dress watching the man I was supposed to marry crumble into a weeping mess.
The numbness inside me deepened, solidifying into a strange, crystalline clarity.
My life was a wreckage, a smoking crater.
Yet, I couldn’t look away from this stranger.
He smelled of rain on hot asphalt and something expensive, sharp, and metallic.
Tyler dropped to his knees, begging for his life.
He promised to sell the car and the house.
The man dismissed him, stating that Tyler was entirely bankrupt, both morally and financially.
He finally shifted his gaze to me.
His dark eyes swept over my ruined makeup and rigid posture in a slow, clinical appraisal.
He didn’t look at me with pity.
He looked at me like a strategist evaluating a piece on a chessboard.
He told me he respected a woman who preferred to burn the house down rather than live in the ashes.
I swallowed the dry lump in my throat.
I refused to shake.
I told him Tyler burned it down, and I just handed out the matches.
A genuine spark of amusement flared in his dark eyes.
He turned back to Tyler and promised to take absolutely everything from him.
Then, he looked back at me and offered me a deal.
He needed a wife immediately to secure his inheritance from his traditional grandfather.
In exchange for playing the part for one year, he would pay off my debts and let me watch him ruin Tyler.
I looked at Tyler, who was silently pleading with me to save him.
I looked at Heather, trembling in her pink dress.
I looked back at the monster in the tailored suit.
I accepted the deal.
He slipped Tyler’s cheap ring onto my finger, forced the terrified priest to pronounce us husband and wife, and marched me out to his armored SUV.
I just married a literal monster to destroy the man who broke my heart, but as the armored SUV pulled away, I had to wonder—did I just lock myself in a cage I can never escape?
