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Escaping Wedding Humiliation Novel Cover

Escaping Wedding Humiliation

I stood alone in the center of the Plaza Hotel's grand ballroom, a vision in white that no one remained to see. My ninety-ninth wedding dress—a hand-beaded Vera Wang creation that had taken six months to complete—felt like a mockery now, its weight crushing against my ribs with each shallow breath I managed to take. Ninetieth. Ninth. Time. The chairs, arranged in perfect rows and adorned with white roses and silk ribbons, sat empty. The string quartet had long since packed away their instruments. Only the champagne flutes remained on the tables, untouched, the bubbles gone flat—much like my dreams. "Poor Isabella Martinez," came a whisper from the doorway, where a cluster of Manhattan's elite lingered, their designer heels and Italian loafers not quite crossing the threshold. "Abandoned at the altar again." "Ninety-nine times," another voice added, not bothering to lower her tone.
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Chapter 2

The red-eye flight to Los Angeles left me hollow-eyed and trembling, but determination burned through my exhaustion. Nathaniel's words from the Plaza Hotel echoed in my mind like poison: 'The hundredth will be the last.' Not just another humiliation—his grand finale before marrying Victoria in my dream destination.

I hadn't slept. I hadn't changed out of yesterday's clothes. My hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and dark circles shadowed my eyes. I didn't look like Isabella Martinez, the society darling Nathaniel Sterling had systematically destroyed. I looked like what I was: a desperate woman with nothing left to lose.

The Cross Corporation tower gleamed like a silver blade against the California sky. I stepped out of my taxi, tilting my head back to take in all sixty-eight floors of Alexander Cross's empire. The rival to Sterling Enterprises. The man Nathaniel despised above all others.

My salvation, perhaps. My only hope.

The security guard at the front desk frowned as I approached. I didn't blame him. I looked like I'd been through hell—because I had.

'I need to see Alexander Cross,' I said, my voice steadier than I expected.

'Do you have an appointment?' His eyes swept over my rumpled appearance with professional skepticism.

'No. But tell him Isabella Martinez is here.' I straightened my shoulders. 'Tell him it's urgent.'

Something flickered in his eyes—recognition. Of course. My humiliations had been splashed across every tabloid in the country. Ninety-nine failed weddings had made me infamous.

Ten minutes and three layers of assistants later, I stood outside the imposing mahogany doors of Alexander Cross's executive suite. My heart hammered against my ribs. This was madness. A Hail Mary pass with virtually no chance of success. But I was out of options.

'Ms. Martinez.' The assistant's voice pulled me from my thoughts. 'Mr. Cross will see you now.'

I walked into a vast office dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Los Angeles. Alexander Cross stood behind his desk, tall and imposing in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. His dark eyes studied me with an intensity that made me want to shrink back.

'Isabella Martinez.' His voice was deep, measured. 'This is... unexpected.'

'I need your help,' I said, the words tumbling out before I could lose my nerve. 'I want you to marry me.'

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. Alexander's expression remained unreadable, but I caught the slight tightening of his jaw.

'Perhaps you should sit down,' he finally said, gesturing to a leather chair.

I remained standing. 'Nathaniel plans to humiliate me one final time. A hundredth wedding ceremony, followed immediately by his real wedding to Victoria Ashford. In the Maldives—the place I always dreamed would be our honeymoon destination.' My voice cracked. 'I can't let him win. Not again. Not like this.'

'And marrying me would accomplish what, exactly?' His tone was careful, neutral.

'It would ruin his grand finale. The contract stipulates I must attempt all hundred ceremonies, but it doesn't specify who the groom must be.' I met his gaze steadily. 'Help me beat him at his own game.'

Alexander studied me for a long moment, then walked to a door at the side of his office. 'Come with me.'

He led me into what appeared to be a private study. I stopped just inside the doorway, my breath catching in my throat.

The walls were covered with me.

Newspaper clippings. Magazine covers. Society photographs spanning years. Me at charity galas. Me at museum openings. Me in the background of business events. All carefully framed, meticulously preserved.

'What is this?' I whispered, turning slowly to take in the room.

Alexander stood with his hands in his pockets, a vulnerability in his expression I'd never seen before. 'I've admired you for a very long time, Isabella.'

'You've been... collecting me?' I couldn't decide if I was terrified or touched.

'I've been watching you shine,' he corrected softly. 'And then watching him systematically try to extinguish that light.'

He moved closer, his eyes never leaving mine. 'I'll marry you, Isabella. Not just to thwart Nathaniel's plans, but because I've waited years for a chance to protect you from him.'

I stared at this man—this stranger who somehow wasn't a stranger at all—and felt something crack open inside my chest. Something that felt dangerously like hope.

'We'll need a marriage license in Seattle,' he continued, already strategizing. 'And I know a vineyard in Napa Valley that would be perfect for the ceremony.'

'Why are you doing this?' I had to ask. 'Really?'

Alexander's gaze softened. 'Because some men build their empires by destroying beautiful things.' He reached out, his fingers hovering near my cheek without touching me. 'And some of us would rather preserve them.'

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