My Adoptive Brother Betrayed Me, So I Married His Worst Enemy

Cecelia forced herself to stay calm as she walked with the group, already mapping out a quick escape downstairs. The moment she hit the first floor, several security guards appeared in the crowd, scanning faces like they were hunting someone.

Were they looking for her? Panic slammed into her, rattling the composure she’d fought to keep. She hadn’t thought they’d notice she was gone this fast. What was she supposed to do?

Security teams moved to cover the mall exits, cutting off every route she could see. She was trapped in a sea of people. Would they catch her and drag her back? No. She couldn’t let that happen. If she went back now, she might never get another chance to escape.

“Miss Graham, I’m waiting for you at Gate One. Please come over immediately.” The announcement crackled over the speakers, and her panic spiked.

One thought blazed through her mind: Hide. Do not get caught. As the guards combed through every face, her anxiety climbed. She moved carefully, keeping out of their line of sight.

Then a tall, familiar figure stormed through the entrance—Marshall Robinson. He was here. Fear crashed over Cecelia, so thick it nearly choked her. She ducked her head, avoiding his gaze, terrified he’d spot her.

Marshall’s voice sliced through the noise. “How did you lose track of her?” Rage laced every word.

“Sorry, Mr. Robinson. I didn’t expect Miss Graham to vanish inside the store. We’re pulling up the security footage,” one guard replied. Cecelia went rigid. Once they reviewed that footage, her disguise would be blown. Not many people had gone in and out of the store—they’d spot the clothing mismatch in seconds.

She’d come too far to let Marshall find her now. The consequences would be devastating.

“Find her!” Marshall barked. “Tear this place apart if you have to!”

Watching him search like a man possessed, Cecelia almost let herself believe she mattered to him. But if she really mattered, why had he believed Margot Cook—the woman he was supposed to marry—over her? After ten years by his side? If he’d trusted her even a little, she wouldn’t have spent the past year in hell. Her hands balled into fists in her pockets, nails biting into her palms. But she felt no pain. Still, she didn’t dare step forward. She melted deeper into the crowd, hunting for a place to hide, inching toward the restroom in the corner.

Maybe she could disappear in there.

She was almost there when a cold voice stopped her. “Miss, excuse me. Could you turn around?”

Cecelia froze. Ice slid down her spine. Should she turn? Her feet felt nailed to the floor. Time ground to a halt. Just when she was sure there was no way out, two firm hands landed on her shoulders, and a low, soothing voice followed.

“Don’t be scared, darling.”

Her heart stuttered. She looked up and locked eyes with a pair of deep, dark ones. The face was devastatingly handsome—thick brows, a sharp nose, and lips curved into a cocky smile that was almost infuriating.

It belonged to Leon Cook—the man who’d stormed the business world after leaving the military three years ago, notorious for going head-to-head with Marshall Robinson, his sworn rival.

She’d never met Leon; Marshall had sent her abroad when she turned eighteen. So why was he helping her now?

“Sorry to drag you into a tabloid scandal, Mr. Cook,” she muttered, catching a glimpse of her over-the-top makeup in the reflection. God, it was ridiculous.

Leon chuckled, eyes teasing. “That’s quite the fiery look. How’d you end up in a mess like this?”

Cecelia said nothing, unsure how to answer. As Leon steered her toward the exit, her anxiety climbed with every step closer to Marshall. Everyone heading for the main exit had to pass Marshall’s men, who were watching faces and questioning anyone who looked familiar.

As they approached Marshall, her legs went weak and she nearly stumbled. Only Leon’s steady grip kept her upright as they walked straight toward him.

“Heard you lost your sister,” Leon taunted, sending a ripple of surprise through the crowd.

The two were always at each other’s throats, never missing a chance to provoke each other.

Cecelia’s legs went weaker, her head dipping lower. She regretted ever getting tangled up with Leon. Was she just a pawn in his game against Marshall?

Lost in her spiraling thoughts, she heard Marshall’s tightly controlled voice. “Get lost, Leon. I’m not in the mood for your games.”

Cecelia swallowed hard, relieved Marshall hadn’t recognized her. She was about to seize her chance to slip away when Leon’s taunting escalated.

“Ran her off, did you? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Leon was fearless—daring enough to taunt Marshall to his face.

Everyone knew Marshall treasured Cecelia. Even after two ruined weddings, he still hadn’t cast her aside—proof of just how much she meant to him.

Bitterness twisted through Cecelia. Leon’s jab had hit the truth. With her gone, his wedding wouldn’t be ruined again. He could finally be happy.

Marshall’s frustration boiled over, his voice tight. “You—”

“If you can’t see what’s right in front of you, get your eyes checked. Aren’t you tired of being played for a fool?” Leon shot back, leading Cecelia away. Marshall stood there fuming, his eyes locked on Leon’s retreating figure.

Damn it. Leon had gotten under his skin again.

Marshall didn’t have time to dwell on Leon’s words. He turned back to his men, determined to find Cecelia, vowing to search every corner.

In the car parked outside the mall, Cecelia kept her gaze fixed on Marshall, her tension slowly easing.

She had finally escaped.

Goodbye, Marshall.

“If you’re so torn about leaving Marshall, why not go back?” Leon suggested, unlocking the car door with a smirk.

His words were teasing, but his expression was ice-cold.