HEARTS DON’T LIE, PAPERS DO. When love defiles the contract

Warren’s pov I wasn’t supposed to see Sienna before the wedding. But rules never mattered much to me. I missed her. I wanted to kiss her one last time before she became my wife. I wanted to see her smile when I gave her the necklace. It wasn’t just any necklace. It belonged to my grandmother. It had been passed down for three generations. A delicate gold chain with a small, heart-shaped ruby in the center, to her “something old,” but to me, it meant something deeper. Family. Loyalty. Forever. I held the velvet box tightly in my hand as I walked down the hallway toward the bridal suite. Everything around me looked perfect the kind of wedding people dream about. Beautiful flowers, golden decorations, champagne glasses lined up like soldiers, and guests in expensive clothes. Everyone thought this day would be a fairytale. And I believed it too. Until I opened that door. I knocked once, then turned the handle. “Sienna,” I said softly, “I brought you something….” I stopped. My heart stopped. Everything stopped. She didn’t hear me come in. Or maybe she didn’t care. She was on the cream loveseat near the vanity, her white robe slipping off one shoulder. Her arms were wrapped around someone. Her fingers tangled in someone’s dark hair. Colt. Colt Moore. My best friend. No, not just my best friend. He was my brother. We had grown up together, laughed together, cried together. He was supposed to stand by my side today, holding the rings. He was supposed to have my back. Instead, his mouth was on my fiancée’s neck. “I can’t wait for this to be over,” Colt whispered against her lips. “Soon, baby. Just a few more minutes.” I stood there, frozen, like I had turned to stone. I didn’t speak. I didn’t drop the box. I just stood and watched, feeling like the ground had been pulled from beneath me. The necklace in my hand felt heavy now. Like a lie. It had always stood for love that lasted—my grandmother wore it until her dying day. She gave it to me with a smile and said, “Give this to the woman you’ll love with everything you have.” But I had been wrong. That woman wasn’t Sienna. I turned around slowly and left the room without making a sound. The box stayed in my hand, but now it felt like a piece of my heart had been buried inside it. Outside, everything still looked golden, but it no longer felt beautiful. The soft music, the shining lights, the laughter it all felt fake. I pulled out my phone and called the one person who could stop this disaster before it became public. “Lucas,” I said. “Sir?” my lawyer answered. “Everything alright?” “Call off the wedding.” There was a pause. “What? Why?” “Do it,” I said. My voice was quiet, but it shook with something deeper. “Now.” I ended the call and slid the phone back into my pocket. I took a deep breath. I wasn’t just heartbroken. I was different now. I tucked the necklace box into my jacket and fixed my tie. My reflection in the hallway mirror looked the same, but inside, everything had changed. I walked toward the wedding hall, step by step, each one harder than the last. But I wasn’t going to break down. Not here. Not in front of everyone. The moment I stepped inside, the music changed. The bridal march started. Guests turned toward me, smiling. Some waved. Some whispered. I didn’t walk to the altar. I walked straight to the microphone. The officiant looked confused and stepped aside. I picked up a glass of champagne, held it high, and looked at the crowd. “To loyalty,” I said, my voice calm but sharp. “The rarest thing in this room.” The whole hall went silent. Eyes widened. Gasps echoed. People looked around in confusion. “I’m sorry to tell you all,” I continued, “this wedding is not happening. Not today. Not ever.” Shock spread across the room like wildfire. Guests whispered, some stood, others looked at Sienna’s family in confusion. Her mother looked pale. Her father leaned forward, confused. I placed the champagne glass down on the altar, turned around, and walked away. Behind me, the room exploded. Whispers. Shouts. Questions. Phones coming out. People hurrying toward the back. And then….. A loud bang. The side doors burst open. Every head turned. A woman stood there. She wore a wedding gown, but it was dirty, torn at the bottom. Her veil hung to one side. Her hair was a mess. Her makeup had run down her face. She looked like she had been crying for hours or like she had survived something terrible. She wasn’t just sad. She looked like she had been broken. People gasped again. “Who is that?” “Why is she in a wedding dress?” “Is this part of the ceremony?” She looked around the room, shaking. Her hands trembled at her sides. Her lips moved, but no words came out. Then she looked at me. And everything stopped again. Her eyes met mine across the room. My heart, still wounded, skipped a beat. I didn’t know who she was. But something in her eyes looked too familiar. Pain. Loss. Betrayal. She had just crashed into my broken world like a storm. I had just walked away from a woman who lied to me. She had just run into a room full of strangers, looking like she escaped something even worse. In the middle of all the chaos, our eyes stayed locked. And for a second, the noise around us faded. Two strangers. Two people who no longer believed in love. Two broken hearts drawn to each other by something neither of us could explain. She opened her mouth, like she was about to say something. And I… I stepped toward her, heart pounding, not knowing why. Then… “Sienna!” someone yelled from behind me. “She’s gone! We can’t find her!” Another voice screamed, “Colt’s car is missing!” The guests gasped again. People were running in all directions. I looked back toward the front of the hall. Sienna had vanished. Colt too. The mic was still live. I walked back toward it slowly, picked it up, and stared at the crowd. “They ran,” I said. Then I turned toward the strange bride again. But she was no longer standing where I saw her. She was gone. Like a ghost. Like she had never been there at all. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t know who I should be chasing. The woman who betrayed me. Or the woman who looked like she needed saving.