After the groom ran away, I married a billionaire

"Miller," I said, staring at the man in the doorway.

"Miller," he corrected smoothly, stepping into the room. "Miller Wilson. I dropped the alias last year when I took over the family board."

I stared at him. The wealthiest heir in the city had been my former boss. "You lied about your name."

"I protected my privacy," he countered. He closed the heavy oak door behind him, his tall frame dominating the space. "Miller Cross was my mother's maiden name. It kept the press away while I built my own firm."

"And now?"

"Now, I don't hide." He glanced at the mahogany wardrobe. His sharp gaze dragged over the shredded lace and the massive brown stain soaking the silk. "Did a wild animal attack your wedding gown?"

"Emma spilled coffee on it," I said. "Then she scrubbed the silk until it tore."

"And Miles defended her."

"Of course he did." I turned away from the wardrobe. "He always defends her."

I sank onto the edge of the velvet sofa. Three years ago, Miles used to bring me breakfast in bed. He used to leave sticky notes on my bathroom mirror. *You are my whole world*, he wrote once. He used to look at me like I was the only person in the room.

Then Emma moved back.

"She knows exactly what she's doing," Miller stated. He unbuttoned his tailored suit jacket and sat in the armchair opposite me.

"Last New Year's Eve," I began, the words spilling out bitter and sharp. "We went to a rooftop party. Emma drank six tequila shots. When she threw up on the host's expensive rug, she pointed right at me."

"What did she say?"

"'Diana kept handing me glasses,'" I mimicked Emma's high, fragile voice. "'I didn't want to drink, but she forced me. She knows I have a low tolerance.'"

"And your fianc�� believed that?"

"He yelled at me in front of fifty people. 'Why would you do that? She's grieving her parents, Diana! Have some sympathy!'" I crossed my arms over my chest, shivering at the memory. "I hadn't touched a single bottle all night. I was driving."

"Did you defend yourself?"

"I tried. I told him to ask the bartender." I let out a harsh laugh. "Miles didn't care about the truth. He just wrapped his coat around her shoulders and carried her to his car. He left me at the party to apologize to the host and pay for the ruined rug out of my own pocket."

Miller's jaw tightened. "You stayed with him after that."

"I thought it was a phase. I thought he was just trying to be a good friend to an orphan." I dug my fingernails into my palms. "Two months later, my vintage music box disappeared from my nightstand. The one Miles bought me for our first anniversary. It played my favorite song."

"Let me guess. The orphan needed it."

"I asked him where it went," I said. "He was typing an email. He didn't even look up from his laptop. 'I gave it to Emma,' he told me. 'She saw it when she came over for dinner. She said the melody reminded her of her mother. You can buy another one.'"

"He gave away your anniversary gift to another woman."

"I told him it was disrespectful. I told him to get it back."

"Did he?"

"No. He slammed his laptop shut and called me selfish." My voice cracked. I forced it steady. "He said, 'She has nothing, Diana. You have to be understanding. You have me.'"

Miller leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "But you didn't have him."

"I haven't had him for six months," I agreed. "Every piece of my love for him just... eroded. A little more every day. Every canceled date. Every ignored text. Every time he picked her over me."

"And today was the final piece."

"He left me in an empty bridal suite while two hundred guests take their seats downstairs." I gestured to the shredded white silk hanging in the wardrobe. "My dress is destroyed. My groom is holding another woman's hand in an emergency room, promising her that I won't be mad."

"The guests are expecting a show," Miller noted.

"They are waiting to laugh at the bride who got left behind." I stood up, pacing the length of the carpet. "Miles made me a joke. He wants me to delay my own wedding so he can play savior. The caterers are already serving appetizers. The string quartet is playing on a loop. I am a laughingstock."

Miller walked over to the door and opened it.

Two women in black uniforms stepped inside. They carried a massive, garment-covered box.

"Put it on the mannequin," Miller ordered.

The women unzipped the canvas bag.

I stopped pacing. My eyes widened.

It was a wedding gown. It wasn't just any gown. The bodice sparkled with hundreds of hand-sewn crystals. The skirt flared out in layers of pristine, shimmering tulle. The sheer sleeves were embroidered with delicate silver thread. It was a masterpiece. Far more expensive and intricate than the one Emma had destroyed.

"What is this?" I asked, stepping closer to the mannequin.

"A solution," Miller said. He gestured for the two women to leave. They bowed their heads and exited the suite, closing the door softly.

"You brought a custom wedding dress to my venue."

"I own the luxury boutique that designed your original dress," he explained, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "When my floor manager told me Emma ruined it yesterday, I made a call. My top seamstresses worked through the night to finish this one."

"Emma ruined it yesterday," I repeated. The realization hit me like a physical blow. "She didn't trip today. She came here yesterday to destroy it."

"She did," Miller confirmed. "She paid off a staff member to let her into the suite. And she timed her little ankle injury perfectly to pull Miles away before the ceremony."

"Everyone downstairs is waiting for a wedding." I stared at the glittering crystals.

Miller stepped closer. He reached out and gently tilted my chin up.

"The wedding won't be canceled," Miller said. His voice was low, carrying absolute certainty. "This time, the groom will be me."

"You want to marry me today?" I whispered.

"I told you on the phone, marriage is a permanent contract." His thumb brushed my jawline. "Put the dress on, Diana. Let's go give your guests a show they will never forget."

A knock sounded at the door before I could answer.

"Miss Diana?" Sarah, the wedding planner, called out from the hallway. "Miles's mother is demanding to know why the groom isn't at the altar. What should I tell her?"