I Left My Cheating Ex And Married A Billionaire Who Fell First

AMELIA "Do you, Amelia Hart, take Daniel Whitmore to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, till death do you part?" The church fell silent. Hundreds of eyes turned toward me, and my fingers tightened around the bouquet in my hands. And there he stood. Daniel. My almost-husband. The man I had loved for six years, trusted with every fragile piece of my heart. The man I now hated. He smiled at me, that same beautiful smile that had once made my stomach flutter. Now it made me want to scream. I remembered the first time he came home smelling like another woman's perfume. 'It's nothing, Amelia. You're imagining things.' The night he ignored twenty-three of my calls. 'My phone died.' The lipstick stain on his collar. 'A client hugged me.' The hotel receipt in his suit pocket. 'It was a business trip.' And then there was the message. 'I miss you already. Last night wasn't enough.' Sent by his secretary. Sophie. His lover. My eyes moved to where she was seated, three rows behind him. She looked beautiful. Of course she did. Daniel had always liked beautiful things. His eyes met hers. There it was. That tiny flicker of panic I had piled up. I knew. And soon, everyone would know. The priest cleared his throat. "Amelia?" Daniel reached for my hand. I pulled it away. "Baby?" The nickname almost made me laugh. Baby. He'd called Sophie that too. I'd bet money on it. The priest looked between us. "Do you take Daniel Whitmore to be your lawfully wedded husband?" I looked at him. Really looked. The jaw I used to touch. The eyes I used to trust. The mouth that had lied to me for years and made it look effortless. "No." The word came out clean. A collective gasp swept through the church. Daniel's face went white. "What?" he whispered. I reached beneath my veil and pulled out my phone. "Amelia." His voice had changed. There was fear in it now. Good. I connected my phone to the screen behind the altar. My thumb hovered over play. Then I pressed it. The screen lit up. Daniel kissing Sophie against a wall, his hand on her back, the same way he used to touch mine. The church exploded. "Turn it off!" Daniel lunged toward the screen. I stepped in front of him. "No." Another video. Daniel leaving a hotel with a different woman at two in the morning. The man standing beside me wasn't the faithful fiancé everyone believed him to be. He was a serial cheater, and today, in front of everyone he had lied to, I was done protecting him. Daniel grabbed my wrist. I ripped it free. "You had five years to tell me the truth." "Amelia, I made mistakes." "Mistakes?" "I was going to tell you." "When?" He swallowed. "When things settled down." "Things settled down five years ago." My father slammed his palm against the pew. "Enough!" The church fell silent. He looked at me. "You will apologize." "For exposing my cheating fiancé?" "For destroying this wedding." "I didn't destroy anything." "You were supposed to marry Daniel today." "Because you wanted me to." His expression hardened. "Because it was good for you." "No." My voice shook. "It was good for you." He didn't deny it. My mother's eyes filled with tears. "Amelia, please." "Please what?" "Don't make this worse." Something inside me cracked. "I thought you would stand beside me." "We are your parents." "Then act like it." My father stared at me. Then his face became cold. "If you walk out of this church today, don't expect to come back to my house." My heart stopped. "You're throwing me out?" "You have embarrassed me in front of every person who matters to this family." "Your daughter was cheated on." "My daughter destroyed an alliance." And there it was. The truth. It had nothing to do with Daniel, nothing to do with my happiness. It was business. It had always been business. "Your trust fund is frozen. Your cards will be cancelled by the end of the day. And the investment we made in your fashion company?" I stared at him. "You wouldn't." "Consider it withdrawn." My blood ran cold. Hart Atelier. My company. My dream. "You'd destroy my company because I refused to marry a cheater?" "No. I am teaching you that you don't get to destroy everything around you and expect us to clean up the pieces." I wanted to scream. I wanted to beg. Instead, I heard myself say, "Fine." I removed my engagement ring. For six years, I'd imagined the day I'd take it off. I'd imagined tears of happiness. I'd never imagined my hands would be shaking. I placed it in Daniel's palm. "I hope she was worth it." Then I walked away. … By the time I got home, I had stopped crying. Not because I was okay. Because I had run out of tears. My wedding dress was still on, my makeup streaked, my veil dragging behind me as I climbed the stairs. The room looked exactly as I'd left it. Flowers. Photographs. Wedding gifts. A framed picture of Daniel and me at twenty-two. I took it off the wall. The glass shattered. I flinched. Then I began packing. Designer dresses. Shoes. Handbags. The things I'd accumulated over years of being Amelia Hart, daughter of Charles Hart. None of it felt like mine anymore. My phone buzzed. Your account access has been restricted. Another. Your corporate funding account has been frozen. Then another. Hart Atelier: Investment withdrawal notice. I sank onto the edge of my bed. Hart Atelier. My company. My dream. I pressed both hands against my face. And cried. When I finally looked up, my reflection stared back at me. Red-eyed. Blotchy. A stranger wearing my face. The bride was gone. There was only me. Twenty-six years old. Homeless. Heartbroken. Disowned. Alone. My phone rang. Scarlett. My heart dropped. I hadn't called her. I hadn't even texted her. After our last argument about Daniel, I couldn't bring myself to face her. She had warned me again and again, and I'd defended him. I'd even told her she was jealous of my relationship. God. I was never going to hear the end of that. The phone stopped ringing. Then it started again. I swallowed and answered. "Hello?" There was silence for half a second. Then Scarlett's voice came through. "Get your ass to my house. Now." I blinked. "Scarlett…" "Don't." "I'm sorry." "I don't want your apology. Get here." "Can you just…" "Amelia." I went quiet. "I swear to God, if you make me come and drag you out of whatever hole you're hiding in, I'm going to be the one who ends up in jail." Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped me. Scarlett exhaled. "Good. You're still alive." My smile disappeared. "Barely." The silence that followed was softer. "Then come home," she said. Hours later, I lay alone in Scarlett's spare bedroom. The house was quiet. Too quiet. My clothes were packed into two suitcases beside the wardrobe, twenty-six years of my life reduced to two suitcases and a borrowed bedroom. I stared at the ceiling. I was left with nothing. Then another thought slipped in. Something I hadn't allowed myself to think about in years. Touch. I had spent five years waiting. Five years believing that desire could wait, that intimacy could wait, that there would be a wedding, and then there would be a husband, and then there would be a lifetime. Daniel had gotten five years of my loyalty. He'd given me humiliation in return. I closed my eyes. I didn't want him. I wanted to feel wanted. There was a difference. My hand moved beneath the covers, seeking a little relief from the ache that had been building inside me. A soft sound escaped my lips. I immediately bit my lower lip. But my hands weren't enough. I reached into the drawer beside me. Told myself it didn't mean anything. Told myself a lot of things. For a while, I allowed myself to forget everything. RYAN "You're going to marry her." I didn't look up right away. I was three pages into a supplier contract, and buried in clause fourteen was a penalty structure that would have cost us eleven million dollars if I'd signed without reading past the summary. I circled it. Then I looked up. "No." My father's jaw tightened. "I wasn't asking." "Then you wasted your time telling me." "You are thirty-two years old. You run a billion-dollar company, and you still behave as though marriage is beneath you." "I never said marriage was beneath me." "You've rejected every woman your mother and I have introduced to you." "Because I'm not interested in marrying someone because you like her family." "That's exactly why you should marry her." "I'm not marrying anyone for a business alliance." My father pushed a folder across the desk. "Your grandfather has made his decision." I opened it. "The shares?" "He intends to transfer controlling ownership." "To me?" My father held my gaze. I understood. "To Ethan." My cousin. The man who had spent three years waiting for me to fail. "What does Grandfather want?" "Proof that you're stable. Responsible. Capable of putting the family's interests before your personal preferences." "And how exactly am I supposed to prove that?" "Get married." I stared at him. "To whom?" "Victoria Ashford." Of course. The perfect Beaumont alliance. "I don't want her." "You don't have to want her." I laughed once. "I have to marry her." "Yes." "No." "Then Ethan gets the shares." Silence. "How long?" "Six months." "Six months to get married?" "Six months to prove to your grandfather that you're capable of carrying this family forward." I stood. "And if I refuse?" "You know the answer." I walked toward the door. "Tell Grandfather I'll make my own decision." "Ryan." I turned. "You may not get another chance." I held his gaze. "Then I'd better make this one count." I walked out. My phone rang before I reached the elevator. Scarlett. "What?" "Good morning to you too." "What do you want?" "I heard about the wedding." I frowned. "What wedding?" She laughed. "Please. We are Beaumonts. Nothing stays secret for more than five minutes." "This family needs therapy." "Probably." She paused. "So... Victoria?" "No." "Good." "Why are you laughing?" "Because I have a feeling you're going to need my help." "With what?" "Finding a wife." "That's the last thing I need." "Come over tonight." "Why?" "Because I haven't seen you in weeks." "I've been busy." "You're always busy." "I'll come over." "Good." By the time I reached Scarlett's house, it was dark. I unlocked the door. "Scarlett?" Nothing. I stepped inside. Then I heard it. A sound from upstairs. I stopped. Another. A soft, breathless moan. My eyebrows pulled together. "Scarlett?" No answer. Another moan. My jaw tightened. Seriously? She'd invited me over and brought someone home? I took the stairs. Fast. The sound grew louder. I reached the bedroom door. "Scarlett, what the hell are you…" I shoved the door open. And froze. A woman was sitting on the bed. Not Scarlett. A stranger. Her hair was disheveled, her face flushed, and her hand was wrapped around a vibrator.