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 6
The beeping was the first thing she heard. A steady, rhythmic pulse that matched the throb in her abdomen.
Amaris opened her eyes. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of medical monitors. She was in a hospital bed, a thin gown replacing her clothes.
She turned her head. Cristian was sitting in the chair beside her bed, a stack of documents on his lap. His tie was loosened, his jaw shadowed with stubble, and dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week.
He saw her move and instantly dropped the papers. He was at her side in a second, his hand reaching for the call button.
"Wait," Amaris croaked, her throat dry.
Cristian ignored her, hitting the button. Then he poured a cup of water from the pitcher on the nightstand. He slipped a straw between her lips, holding the cup steady while she drank.
The cool water soothed her throat. She took a deep breath, wincing at the pull in her stomach. "What happened?"
"Appendicitis," Cristian said, his voice rough. "It ruptured. They had to operate."
Before she could process that, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The screen lit up. Elijah.
Cristian glanced at the name. His eyes went cold, the softness from a moment ago vanishing. He picked up the phone and held it out to her.
Amaris stared at it. She wasn't ready, but she needed to hear his voice. She needed to know if the reality matched the nightmare.
She swiped to answer, pressing the phone to her ear.
"Where are you?" Elijah snapped, skipping any greeting. "I've been calling you for hours. I need you at the Whitmore dinner tonight. You need to smile and fix this PR mess."
Amaris felt a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the anesthesia. He didn't ask if she was okay. He didn't even know she was in the hospital.
"I can't," she whispered.
"You can, and you will," Elijah commanded, his tone dripping with entitlement. "I'm not asking, Amaris. Be at my apartment by six."
The sheer audacity hit her like a physical blow. Before she could respond, a sudden wave of heat washed over her body. The room spun, the edges of her vision going black. The phone slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the mattress.
She groaned, her eyes rolling back as the fever spiked.
Cristian moved like lightning. He took the phone from her. His thumb pressed down on the end-call button with enough force to make the plastic creak. He then calmly placed it face down on the table, his jaw set like stone. He slammed his hand on the call button again.
"Her temperature is spiking!" he yelled at the nurse running in.
The next few hours were a haze of ice and fire. The doctor called it a postoperative absorption fever. They packed her in ice packs, trying to bring the temperature down.
But the person holding the ice packs wasn't a nurse. It was Cristian.
He sat on the edge of the bed, a basin of ice water beside him. He wrung out the cloth and ran it over her burning forehead, down her neck, and across her wrists. He did it over and over, his movements incredibly gentle, a stark contrast to the harsh, ruthless man the world knew.
Amaris drifted in and out of consciousness, her body shivering under the cold cloths. She mumbled in her delirium, fragments of pain and fear spilling from her lips.
Cristian leaned in closer, his face inches from hers. His jaw was clenched, his eyes bright with unshed tears.
"Don't be afraid, Amy," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm right here."
The name cut through the fog in her brain. Amy. Only one person had ever called her that. Her father. And he was dead.
But the voice was so real, so close. She tried to open her eyes, to find the source, but the fever dragged her back under.
It was dawn when the fever finally broke. Amaris woke up, her body weak but her mind clear. The room was quiet, the morning light painting streaks across the floor.
Cristian was asleep in the chair beside her. His head was tilted back, his breathing deep and even. He still wore the same clothes, his hand resting on the edge of her mattress, as if he was afraid to let go.
Amaris looked at him, a strange warmth blooming in her chest. She reached for her phone on the nightstand, ignoring the cracked screen.
She saw the missed calls from Elijah. Ten of them. The warmth in her chest turned to ice.
She didn't hesitate. She opened her contacts, scrolled to his name, and hit "Block." It was done with a finality that felt like cutting off a limb, but the relief was immediate.
"Amy," she whispered to herself, the word foreign on her tongue. It had to be a dream. A hallucination born of fever and medication.
Cristian stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and for a split second, she saw it again-that raw, desperate look from the office. But in the blink of an eye, it was gone. The shutters came down, and the cold, composed CEO was back.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice perfectly level.
Amaris stared at him, searching his face for any crack in the armor. "Who is Amy?" she asked bluntly.
Cristian didn't flinch. He didn't blink. He just picked up the water pitcher and poured her a glass. "You must have misheard," he said smoothly. "I said Amaris."
He handed her the water, his expression giving nothing away. The mystery hung in the air between them, thick and unsolvable.
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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.