Left At The Altar: Marrying The Billionaire
At my million-dollar wedding to the Hoffman heir, the priest was interrupted by a ringing phone.
My groom, Elijah, didn't silence it. He answered it right at the altar, yanked his arm from my grasp, and walked out because his "true love" Jalyn needed him.
I was left standing alone in front of three hundred elite guests, blinded by mocking camera flashes. My own mother rolled her eyes in disgust, later threatening to freeze my trust fund and sell me to a notorious playboy to recoup her losses. Elijah even had the nerve to call me, demanding I take the blame for the canceled wedding to save his PR, while live news feeds showed him cradling a fragile Jalyn in the hospital.
I had spent two years bending over backward to be his perfect bride, only to be discarded like trash. What made it sicker was finding out that Jalyn's sudden "medical emergency" was actually a ruptured cyst caused by having vigorous sex with Elijah right before he walked down the aisle.
I refused to let them destroy me.
Kicking off my six-inch heels, I stepped down from the altar and walked straight to the back row where Cristian Lowe sat. He was the ruthless iceberg of Wall Street and Elijah's most terrifying rival.
I looked up at his sharp jawline and asked the craziest question of my life.
"Will you marry me?"
He stood up, his dark eyes locking onto mine.
"As you wish."
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Chapter 2
The backseat of the Maybach was a tomb. The partition was up, sealing Amaris and Cristian in a soundproof bubble as the city lights blurred past the tinted windows.
Amaris stared at her reflection in the glass. Her makeup was still perfect, a mockery of the bride she was supposed to be. Her fingers found the diamond ring on her left hand, twisting it back and forth until the skin underneath turned red.
Cristian reached over. He didn't say a word. He just pressed a cold bottle of water into her trembling hands.
She took it, her throat tight. Before she could open it, her phone buzzed violently on the seat cushion. The screen lit up with a name: Elijah.
Amaris hesitated. Her thumb hovered over the decline button, but some pathetic, lingering hope made her swipe to answer.
"Where the hell are you?" Elijah's voice exploded through the speaker, raw with fury. "You made a complete fool of me! The Hoffman name is dragging through the mud because of your little stunt!"
Amaris flinched, the phone pressing hard against her ear. "What about Jalyn?" she forced out, her voice hoarse. "You left me for her-"
"Shut up!" Elijah cut her off. "I don't have time for your jealousy. You get back to the apartment right now. I'll handle the press. You'll issue a statement citing a sudden personal health crisis. Blame it on exhaustion. We will postpone, not cancel. This mess needs to be contained, not amplified. Do you hear me?"
Amaris felt the last thread of her hope fraying, the coldness in her chest spreading. But it wasn't dead yet. Not quite.
Then, a chime. A news alert popped down from the top of her screen, overlaying the call timer.
It was a live feed from the Daily Mail. A photo, crystal clear, taken just minutes ago. Elijah was in a sterile hospital corridor, his arms wrapped tightly around a fragile-looking Jalyn Brandt. He was cradling her head against his chest, his face buried in her hair, looking utterly devastated.
The headline screamed: Hoffman Heir Dumps Bride for True Love!
Amaris stared at the screen. She had never seen Elijah look at her like that. Not once in two years. That look was tenderness. That look was love.
Her lungs seized. The phone slipped from her numb fingers, clattering onto the floorboard.
Elijah was still shouting, his tinny voice drifting up from the carpet. "Are you listening to me, Amaris? I swear to God-"
She leaned forward, her hand shaking violently, and pressed the red end-call button. The silence in the car was deafening.
Cristian reached down and picked up the phone. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening. When he looked back at her, his dark eyes were like chips of ice.
"You need legal protection," he said, his voice cutting through her haze. "Now."
Amaris looked at him, her vision blurry. "What?"
"You are currently the laughingstock of the city," Cristian said, his tone brutally matter-of-fact. "And your assets are in danger. If Hoffman wants to hurt you, he'll freeze your trust fund by morning."
The reality hit her like a bucket of ice water. Elijah was vindictive. He would punish her for this. He would take everything.
Cristian shifted, his body angling toward her. "I am offering you a legally binding marriage agreement. It protects you from your mother, from Hoffman, and from bankruptcy. It's not just protection, Amaris. It's retaliation."
Amaris stared at the cold, beautiful stranger beside her. She was a shark, notorious for his lack of feeling. But right now, he was the only life raft in sight.
She nodded, a single, sharp jerk of her chin. "Okay."
The car made a sudden U-turn, heading downtown. Ten minutes later, they were standing in the empty lobby of the Manhattan City Clerk's Office.
It was midnight. The place should have been closed, but a lone clerk was waiting, his face carefully blank, a stack of papers already laid out on the counter.
Cristian's reach was terrifying.
Amaris picked up the pen. Her hand shook so badly the tip scratched across the paper, leaving a jagged line instead of a signature.
Before she could try again, Cristian's large hand covered hers. His palm was still burning hot, his grip steady and firm. He guided her hand, the pen gliding smoothly across the line.
She signed. He signed.
The clerk stamped the certificate with a heavy thud. The sound echoed in the empty room like a gunshot.
Cristian took the certificate, folding it neatly and slipping it into his breast pocket. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable.
"Move into my apartment tomorrow," he said. It wasn't a request.
Amaris looked down at the ink on her fingers. She was a married woman. To a man she didn't know.
Her life, as she knew it, was over.
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7.6
After an exhausting fourteen-hour flight, Katia returned to her Upper East Side penthouse, expecting the quiet comfort of the life she had built.
Instead, she found a pair of familiar red stilettos in the foyer and her fiancé, Caleb, tangled in their bedsheets with his twenty-two-year-old assistant.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply took off her three-carat engagement ring, threw it at his bare chest, and demanded he buy out her half of the penthouse by Friday.
Seeking to numb the sickening disgust, she got blackout drunk and crashed at a luxury hotel, accidentally stumbling into the wrong suite.
Thinking the imposing man inside was a high-end escort hired by her friend, she threw him over her shoulder and spent a wild night with him.
The next morning, she left five thousand dollars on his nightstand with a lipstick-stained note.
"Good Job."
For six years, she had funded Caleb's dreams and built his startup from the ground up, only to be treated like a lifeless ATM.
With ruthless precision, she spent the next two months systematically bankrupting his company, cutting off his venture capital, and erasing his life's work.
She felt no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating need to cleanse herself of his betrayal.
But when Katia finally returned to corporate headquarters to co-lead a massive merger, she literally crashed into the new Vice President.
Strong arms caught her waist, and the sharp scent of cedarwood and whiskey hit her like a freight train.
"You came back," Jackson whispered, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman who had treated him like a cheap gigolo.
7.2
Four years ago, Madelynn accepted money from Caiden's family and vanished. She thought it was for the best-he would remain the untouchable heir while she faced her tough life alone.
When they met again, Caiden humiliated her in public, yet appeared when she was cornered by a difficult client, pulling her back into his life.
He forced her to stay as his lover, using her mother's medical bills as leverage, whispering, "What you owe me... you'll repay the same way."
Madelynn believed he despised her. Only after the accident, when he ran toward her before the explosion, did she understand-he never let go.
9.2
Averie spent hours preparing a perfect third-anniversary dinner for her billionaire husband, Jarett Sharp.
Instead of celebrating, she received an anonymous photo of him intimately holding another woman.
When Jarett finally arrived, he didn't even look guilty.
"Candida. It's okay. Don't be scared. I'm on my way."
He simply took a call from his mistress, shoved Averie aside, and walked right back out the door.
That same night, Averie's father suffered a massive heart attack.
The hospital demanded a half-million-dollar deposit before they would operate.
But when Averie frantically tried to use the emergency medical trust card Jarett had given her, it was declined.
Jarett had deliberately frozen her access to the funds just hours earlier.
While she begged his assistant on the phone, Jarett refused to be disturbed, busy wrapping his expensive coat around his mistress in the hospital garden.
Averie collapsed in the hallway, realizing the man she loved was deliberately letting her father die.
In the end, a childhood friend stepped in to pay the bill and save her father's life, while her billionaire husband later pinned her to their bed, throwing a check at her and reminding her he had bought her for three million dollars.
Averie didn't shed a single tear.
She slowly ripped his check into pieces, left her massive diamond ring on the dresser, and walked out into the cold New York night with nothing but her old suitcase.
She pulled out her phone and dialed her old ballet professor.
She wasn't just going to leave Jarett Sharp. She was going to destroy him.
8.7
For three years, I played the perfect, submissive housewife to billionaire Julian Harrison.
But right after an intimate night together, he coldly threw a divorce agreement onto the bed.
"Scarlett landed an hour ago. I need my single status restored to welcome her back."
That same night, I ended up in the emergency room and discovered I was pregnant with twins.
When Julian found out, he didn't show a shred of joy. Instead, he stormed into my hospital room, threw a blank check directly at my face, and ordered me to get rid of them.
He accused me of using the babies as a sick game to trap his assets.
Then, his ruthless lawyer kicked me out of our penthouse, confiscating the jewelry he gifted me and tossing my worn-out notebook onto the floor like garbage.
Standing in the freezing rain, my heart completely died.
I had swallowed my pride, managed his life, and cooked his meals to his exact standards for three years, only to be thrown away the second his first love returned.
But he didn't know that the notebook his lawyer discarded contained the secret formulas of Aura Beauty, a billion-dollar empire I built in the shadows.
I tore his check into pieces, blocked his number, and left in a Maybach sent by my associate.
Logging into my global CEO database, I looked at his company's fragile stock chart with a predatory smile.
The docile Mrs. Harrison died in the rain. It was time to crush his empire.
9.1
What would a woman do if one day she is waiting for her husband to tell him the news of her pregnancy but he comes home with another woman who is pregnant with his child?
........
Ariadne had a perfect life until her mother died in a car accident and her father remarried, bringing a stepmother and stepsister into her life. Once adored by all, Ariadne became an eyesore to everyone, including her father. Her stepmother and stepsister took everything from her.
However, she lost it when their eyes fell on Xander, the sole heir of the richest family in the country and her childhood love. When rumors of Crystal, her step sister and Xander's dating spread, Ariadne used her everything to force Xander into marrying her.
Despite pouring her heart and soul into the marriage Ariadne failed to make Xander reciprocate her feelings. Their loveless marriage came to an end when Crystal returned in their lives.
With a broken heart, Ariadne left the city with a secret and rebuild her life.
Five years later, she returned as a successful interior designer to design her ex-husband's new mansion. But this time, what she saw in Xander's eyes for herself was not hatred. It was something else.
She came face to face with the same people who had wronged her in the past. They still held resentment towards her. But this time Ariadne vowed to strike back at her bullies.
Many secrets were revealed in the process that made Xander regret his past actions. He determined to win Ariadne back.
BUT Will Ariadne be able to forget their past and get back together with Xander or She will choose someone else?
8.8
On the eve of my glamorous Waldorf Astoria wedding, I went to the penthouse to surprise my fiancé, Hugh, wearing my late mother's heirloom pearls.
Instead, I heard my stepsister's familiar laugh and caught them tangled together on the sofa.
Through the cracked door, I heard Hugh slur that he was only marrying me for my family's financial backing.
"As soon as I secure my inheritance, she's the first thing I'm getting rid of," he promised her.
Floy giggled and asked for my mother's pearl necklace, my only legacy. Hugh agreed without hesitation, mocking my dead mother's naivety and my desperate dreams of building a family.
Every sweet word he had ever said was a lie, a knife he had been patiently sliding between my ribs for years. They planned to strip me of everything the moment I signed the prenup.
I didn't cry or scream. The crushing weight of their betrayal hollowed me out, leaving behind a terrifying, absolute calm.
Why should I be the one to lose everything while they stole my future and insulted my mother's memory?
I calmly walked down the hall, set the prenuptial agreement on fire, and vanished into the rainy night.
If Hugh wanted to play dirty for the Maxwell empire, I would play for keeps.
Using a forgotten, century-old family covenant, I was going to marry Hugh's uncle-the comatose, paralyzed war hero, Fleet Maxwell.
I would return not as a naive bride, but as their worst nightmare: his aunt, and the new lady of the house.