Chapter 1 You May Miss The Shaky Bride
Elena sat still inside the luxury car, her heart racing wildly.
“You can do this, Lena," she muttered to herself shakily. “You can do this.”
Her wedding dress felt too tight and no matter how slowly she tried to breathe, her lungs refused to cooperate.
Her ribs hurt from all the pressure and her fingers trembled badly.
The car suddenly pulled to an abrupt stop and Elene felt her heart drop.
“You’ve arrived at your wedding venue, Mrs. Thorne,” the chauffeur said politely as he stepped out and opened the door.
The title almost made her dizzy but she had to be brave.
Closing her eyes for a second, Elene inhaled as deeply as she could, then let the breath out slowly. She had to do this. She had already come too far. Turning back was no longer an option.
Without allowing herself to think again, she stepped out of the car and plastered a fake smile on her face.
Her wedding dress was diamond studded and her makeup artists had outdone herself. She looked like the dream bride and she was indeed marrying the groom any woman would die to have.
“This way, Missy," the old chauffeur said and gestured inside the building.
That's when Elena realized that she’d abruptly froze at the porch, panting.
The hall before her was large and bright. Crystal lights hung from the ceiling and white flowers lined the aisle in perfect rows.
Everything looked expensive, classy, and flawless. It felt wrong that something so beautiful could feel like a prison.
“Thank you, Edward," she muttered and the old man smiled reassuringly.
As soon as she took her first step inside, the whispers started.
She heard them clearly, even though she didn't turn to acknowledge any.
“Is that her?”
“She doesn’t look that special.”
“I heard she’s a gold digger.”
Another woman laughed softly. “Of course she is. How else would she land Julian Thorne?”
Someone else leaned closer. “No, I heard she’s the heiress of the Vance empire. Imagine having all that money and still being this desperate.”
A different voice cut in as she passed the sixth row. “I think she’s pregnant. That’s why the wedding is so rushed.”
The words wrapped around her and almost pressed what little life was left inside her. But she didn't stop walking.
Elena kept her head down and did not look at them. She focused on walking, one slow step at a time, praying she would not lose her balance before reaching the altar.
She could feel eyes on her from every direction.
She risked a glance ahead and immediately recognized faces she had hoped never to see again. A few college classmates, family association and business partners stood near the aisle, whispering among themselves.
And finally, in the front row sat the Vance family. Her family.
Her father sat at the center in an immaculate white jacket and a stony face. She couldn't tell if he was angry, impatient or just bored. Beside him was her elder sister, her lips curving down scornfully as she walked by. Her brother sat on the other side, arms crossed, looking away as if embarrassed by the whole charade.
Her heart skipped but she reminded herself again that she was doing the right thing. That this was necessary.
Then suddenly, just as she almost reached the altar, a hand grabbed her wrist.
Elena gasped and turned around.
It was her fiance. Or rather, her now ex fiance.
“Francis?”
Her heart dropped.
He stood there in a dark suit, his handsome face crumpled in disbelief and anger.
She had not invited him. She had made sure of that. She did not understand how he had gotten in.
“How could you do this to me, Elena?” he demanded, his voice shaking. “You said you loved me. You said we could have a future together.”
Her eyes began to water despite her best efforts to remain calm.
Two days ago, she had been in his arms. Two days ago, she had woken up beside him after the happiest weekend of her life. Two days ago, he had proposed in her beach house and she said yes.
And now she stood here, dressed in white, about to marry another man while his ring was in a trashcan in her apartment.
“I’m sorry, Francis,” she whispered. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
His eyes darkened and he took a threatening step forward.
“You didn’t even tell me,” he growled. “You never loved me, you whore! You were just using me for my body.”
The words made her gasp and the entire crowd began to gather.
But before she could respond, two security officials rushed forward. They grabbed Francis by the arms as he struggled, shouting her name as they dragged him out.
“Let me go! Elena!”
They threw him out of the hall and Elena could barely breathe after that.
Elena’s vision blurred. The lights above her seemed too bright and her ears rang. She could not believe what her life had become. Her knees felt weak, and she swayed slightly.
Just as everything began to fade into oblivion, a firm hand settled on her shoulder.
She turned slowly and faced her husband.
Julian Thorne stood before her.
He was already at the altar, tall and composed, dressed in a perfectly tailored navy blue suit.
His face was calm, not a trace of emotion crossed his features, even after everything that had just happened.
“Are you ready for the wedding, Elena?” he asked simply.
His voice was steady and almost cold despite the drama that had just passed around them.
She knew then what she had always known. He was not upset or jealous or curious. did not care about her. And she did not care about him either.
This marriage was not about love but it had to happen.
“I’m ready,” she said quietly.
She walked past him to the podium and stood shakily as the priest began to speak, his voice distant and hollow in her ears.
She barely heard the words, her mind feeling numb as the sparking diamond ring was placed on finger.
Then the priest smiled.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”