The Price Of His Betrayal

The Scene At The Altar

Lena’s POV

I should’ve turned back the second I stepped into that ballroom.

The stares that sliced into me, some were curious, others were disgusted. That should’ve been enough warning to turn back. I looked like a ghost in that place. Like something scraped off the bottom of a memory people would rather forget. My dress hung limp on my frame, prison-wrinkled and a shade too pale against skin that hadn’t gotten enough sunlight in weeks. My hair was a mess, my cheeks hollow. But I didn’t care.

I wasn’t here to be seen.

I was here to ruin this messed up sham.

The music faltered when I spoke.

“I object.”

The words echoed like a gunshot.

And then silence.

Every head turned. Nadia’s gasp was almost theatrical, like something from a soap opera. Her hand fluttered to her chest. She looked… stunning. A custom gown that dripped in pearls, her makeup soft and angelic, like she was the picture of innocence on her wedding day. And Gideon—God, Gideon looked as sharp and heartless as ever.

His eyes landed on me like I was dirt stuck on a freshly mopped floor.

“Lena,” he said flatly, as if I were an inconvenience. A bad memory come to life.

“I should be the one standing up there,” I said, my voice shaking as I took a step forward. “Not her. Me. Your wife. Or did that part just slip your mind?”

A low murmur spread through the crowd. Phones came out, of course they did. We lived in a world where humiliation went viral before you could breathe. Someone in the second row was already livestreaming.

“I don’t know what kind of stunt this is,” Nadia said, her voice trembling just enough to sound believable. “But this is my wedding, Lena. You’re not well. You shouldn’t be here.”

I laughed. Bitter and sharp. “Oh, I’m not well? That’s rich coming from you. My stepmother. The woman who held my hand when I lost my baby, who lived under our roof while my father rotted from grief, and then crawled into my husband’s bed when I wasn’t looking.”

Gideon stepped down from the altar like he was descending from heaven itself, unbothered, and cold.

“You need to leave,” he said. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

I stared up at him, heart pounding. “No? When is the time, Gideon? Should I have waited until after the wedding? Like I did every time I found the scent of another woman in our bed?” My voice cracked, but I didn’t stop. “You cheated on me. Again and again. And I forgave you every damn time. Because I believed—God, I believed you loved me, and you would change.”

He didn’t flinch. Not even a flicker of shame.

“I was young,” I whispered. “I thought love meant enduring the worst parts of someone. I thought if I stayed long enough, you’d remember how we used to be before all the lies, before your cruelty…”

Gideon tilted his head. “I never lied, Lena. I just stopped pretending.”

Nadia was crying now, real tears or crocodile, I didn’t care. She turned to the guests, voice breaking. “I never meant to hurt her. She’s clearly unstable. I tried to help her after the miscarriage. I love her like a sister.”

“Sister?” I spat. “You pretended to be my friend, stood by my side while you were sleeping with my husband.”

That did it.

Gasps rippled across the crowd. A woman near the back actually clutched her pearls. Another turned her camera so I was in full frame. I probably looked insane. Red-eyed. Raging. The crazy ex-wife, clawing her way into a fairytale wedding.

That’s what they wanted to see.

That’s the story they chose to believe.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Gideon said through gritted teeth. “Have some dignity.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I hissed. “You took that from me along with everything else.”

He came closer. Too close. His cologne hit me like a slap, familiar, and nauseating. The smell of broken promises.

“Security,” he called. “Get her out.”

Two men appeared, suits tight over bulked muscle. I twisted away from them, eyes locked on Gideon.

“You took everything from me,” I said louder now, for the cameras, for the world. “You paraded me like a trophy, then threw me away like trash. You framed me. You ruined my name. You—”

The guards got a hold of me, gripping my arms tight as they dragged me backward.

People watched like they were at the theater. Some looked away. Most didn’t. They filmed.

And Gideon followed close behind the guards.

Smiling.

“Let me go, you bastards,” I yelled as the guards dragged me outside the estate.

“Enough!” he barked.

The guards froze.

Gideon took a step forward, his eyes gleaming with something I’d never seen before. Not anger, and not regret.

Contempt.

“You think I loved you?” he said, loud and clear. “You were a burden, Lena. A child playing house. You were useful, for a while. But I could never stomach the thought of you carrying my child.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

He leaned in, lips near my ear. “I made sure you lost them. Every single time.”

I couldn’t breathe. My knees buckled.

The guards caught me before I hit the ground, gripping my arms tight.

The whole world spun. My screams shot out of me aggressively, but they weren’t just mine anymore, they were the ghosts of the children I’d lost. The girl I used to be. The love I used to feel.

The guards dumped me onto the gravel. My knees scraped hard against the ground. I didn’t care. I curled forward, gagging on tears and bile, every breath burning like acid.

“Mark her face. Don't come in here ever again,” Gideon said to the guards.

“But Sir, she is the daughter of the boss?” one of the guards asked.

Gideon glared at him before staring at me with a smug expression. “I am the boss now, and you will do as I say.”

They left me outside the gates, and for a long time, I lay there, staring at the sky like it might offer answers. Or vengeance. Or maybe just the will to keep breathing.

My lip was bleeding. My palms were scraped. My heart was… gone.

He killed it.

He killed them.

The truth settled into my bones like frostbite.

He never loved me. He only ever wanted to destroy me.

But as I lay there, something else stirred. Not sorrow. Not helplessness.

Something hot. Blinding. Clean.

Hatred.

Pure and absolute.

I touched my split lip, tasted blood on my tongue, and whispered his name into the dirt like a curse.

“Gideon. You would live to wish you were never born.”

I wasn’t going to disappear.

I was going to rise.