The Billionaire Proposed

Penelope woke up before the sun had fully risen, a thin line of dawn slipped through the heavy hotel curtains, washing the room in pale light.

For a moment, she lay still, her mind hazy—until the memories of the previous night came crashing back. Her chest tightened.

Carlton lay asleep beside her, his arms loosely draped across her waist, his breathing slow and steady. Carefully, she lifted his arm away and slid out of the bed.

Spotting a Louis Vuitton shopping bag resting on the dresser. Without hesitation, she pulled out a simple dress from it and slipped into it, then folded her wedding gown—the symbol of everything that had gone wrong—and gathered it into her arms.

The room felt unnaturally quiet, weighed down by reality.

Her heart pounded as she approached the door. She paused briefly when she noticed her car keys on the rack. Taking a deep breath, she glanced back at Carlton one last time. He remained asleep, peaceful in the dim light, unaware that this moment would be their only one.

She considered leaving him a note, but she stopped herself.

Some things are never meant to be explained. She grabbed the keys and slipped out quietly.

She hurried down the hallway, into the elevator, and out of the building.

The cool morning air hit her like a slap as she stepped out of the building. Relief washed over her as she saw her car parked in the valet stand. Looking slightly bruised but intact.

She climbed in and shut the door, exhaling shakily.

Her phone lay on the passenger seat, its screen glowing with missed calls and unread messages.

She picked it up and saw numerous missed calls and messages from her Dad, Hill, Geoffrey, and even Mrs. Oretha. Penelope's heart sank as she stared at the screen, but she didn't return any of the calls nor reply to the messages.

Each number represented a conversation she wasn't ready to have, a judgment she wasn't ready to face. With a clenched jaw, she tossed the phone back to the passenger seat, fired the engine, and drove off.

The city slowly woke around her, but Penelope felt detached from it all. A few streets away, she pulled over beside a public trash bin. Her hands trembled as she reached for the wedding dress.

For years, she had imagined walking down the aisle in it.

Now, without ceremony or tears, she shoved it into the bin and slammed the lid shut.

She didn’t look back.

The drive home was blurry. By the time she arrived home, the house was already alive with noise.

Her father. Geoffrey. Hillary. Mrs. Oretha.

Everyone.

She parked and took a moment to steel herself. The moment she stepped inside, the tension thickened. Her father’s face hardened when his eyes landed on her.

“What is this?” he demanded. “Are you out of your mind?” His face was burning with anger and fury.

The accusation hung in the air, Penelope stared at her father, and a cold emptiness settled in her stomach.

Before she could respond, Hillary rushed forward, arms outstretched. “Pen, please—”

Penelope stepped back, avoiding her touch. Geoffrey moved next, reaching for her hand, his voice strained with panic. “Penelope, thank goodness you're alright. Where were you? Talk to me.

She pulled away again, her face unreadable, her silence louder than any accusation. She walked past them into the house, Mrs Oretha waiting in the hallway.

“You could have taken your calls, you got us all worried,” Mrs Oretha said, her tone gentle but firm.

“I will no longer be getting married to Geoffrey,” Penelope announced, her voice steady and loud enough for everyone to hear.

A stunned silence fell over the room. Geoffrey’s face turned pale, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. “What do you mean babe?” he finally managed to ask.

“You heard me correctly,” Penelope replied, her voice unwavering. “I am not marrying you Geoffrey.”

Her father’s anger erupted. “You embarrassed me. You made me look like a fool in front of my friends, my family, and everyone. Penelope, you disgraced me.”

“You were nowhere to be found at your wedding, guests left in disappointment, and you came home reeking of male cologne, and you said what?” her father's voice almost breaking through the hard walls.

Hillary stepped forward, her expression one of concern. “Penelope, what's wrong? Are you having cold feet?”

Penelope turned to her, a stranger hidden behind a mask of feigned sympathy. The betrayal echoed in her memory, clear as day. How could she have been so blind? She mused as she looked at Hill with a blank expression, feeling a surge of anger and betrayal.

‘How did I never realize what a calculating bitch you are?’ she thought, but didn't say anything.

Her father's voice broke through her thoughts. “If you are not marrying Geoffrey, then you are not setting foot in this house again.”

The words landed hard.

Penelope's heart ached at her father's words. It hurt her that he cared more about the wedding than her well-being. She took a deep breath, standing tall. “I am not getting married. It was my choice to get married, and now I no longer want to get married. You can do whatever you want, Dad.”

Her father's face twisted with rage. “Then you leave this house and never come back. I don't want to ever see your face again.

Penelope felt a pang of sadness but stood her ground. “Fine. I will leave,” she declared, since she desperately needed time and space.

She needed space away from both Hillary and Geoffrey. She couldn't bear to look them in the face and she never wanted to let them see or know how they had hurt her.

The shock in the room was palpable as she turned and walked upstairs, and immediately, Mrs Oretha and Hillary hurried after her.

Before either of them could walk into her bedroom she slammed the door in their face and locked it.

She grabbed a suitcase and began to pack, her hands trembling slightly but her resolve firm. She picked up her passport and her essentials, tears streamed down her face, but she wiped them off immediately, and took one last look around her room, then headed back downstairs.

Downstairs, her father's voice continued to echo angrily, Mrs Oretha trying to calm him down, while Hillary and Geoffrey whispered to each other.

Penelope looked around the house, at the faces she once trusted, at the place she once called home—and felt nothing but resentment.

As she reached the bottom step, her father glared at her. “You really mean to leave?”

Penelope nodded without hesitation, her eyes meeting his. “Yes Sir”

Without another word, she walked past them all, out the front door, and into an unknown future that awaited her.