Jilted: Falling for my grooms brother

The wedding dress hung on the closet door like a ghost. Its crystals caught the pathetic afternoon light slipping through the blinds, twinkling as if they were laughing at me. Today was supposed to be the beginning of my "forever." Instead, my groom was gone. No text, no call, not even a cowardly “I can’t do this” note scribbled on a napkin. Just... nothing. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the notifications hitting me like little knives. Another one from my mother popped up before I could swipe away the last. Mother: Where are you? After you succeeded in humiliating the entire family... Then the next: Mother: Everyone's asking questions. Do you know what this looks like? My thumb hovered over the glass. Did she even care that I’d been abandoned? That Victor had vanished into thin air? No. She only cared about the optics. The family name. My "failure." I was the one standing in the wreckage, but she was the one mourning her reputation. "How could he do this?" I whispered to the empty room. Two years of my life. A hundred cake tastings. Months obsessing over monogrammed napkins. All for a man who didn’t think I was worth a thirty-second phone call. Muffled whispers drifted in from the hallway. These thin apartment walls were a curse; privacy was a myth. “Did you hear? Her wedding got canceled. The groom is nowhere to be found...” I pressed my palms to my ears, but the gossip crawled in anyway. Tears burned hot tracks down my face until the sadness curdled into something else. Raw, ugly, fury. A scream tore out of me scraping my throat, loud enough to shake the dust off the ceiling. I gripped my chest, trying to physically hold myself together. BANG! The front door shook. I froze. BANG! Harder this time. Annoyed. “Who the hell is screaming like that?” a deep, pissed-off voice yelled from the hall. “Some of us are trying to work!” My heart slammed against my ribs. Perfect timing. I wiped my face with shaky hands and stormed to the door, yanking it open before my courage could fail me. There he was. Tall, messy brown hair, and sleeves rolled up over forearms that looked far too strong for a guy who spent his day behind a desk. His jaw was locked, his grey eyes narrowed as if my mental breakdown was a personal insult to his schedule. He must be the new neighbor. I’d never seen him before. “What’s your problem?” he snapped. I let out a bitter, broken laugh. “My problem? My fiancé ghosted me on our wedding day. So yeah, I screamed. Deal with it.” His expression flickered surprise? Then his face went stone-cold again. “Figures,” he muttered. “Figures the drama queen next door would turn my afternoon into a damn soap opera.” I slammed the door in his face. But not before I saw his gaze drop to my tear streaked cheeks and linger for a fraction of a second. I stumbled back to the bed and face planted into the pillows. The tears finally ran dry, leaving my face tight and gross. Whatever. At least they were gone. The anger? That stuck. Who the hell did he think he was? Barging over like his precious work mattered more than my whole life exploding? I rolled onto my back, glaring at the ceiling cracks that looked like lightning bolts. “Some of us are trying to work here,” I grumbled in my best grumpy man impression. It came out pathetic, but it felt good. Petty felt good. I didn’t shower. Didn’t change out of the wrinkled rehearsal dinner clothes. Exhaustion just dragged me under fast, heavy, merciful sleep that swallowed everything. Sunlight woke me. Soft gold stripes across my face. I didn’t feel golden. I felt like roadkill. Groaning, I dragged myself up. Head pounding, mouth like sandpaper. Water. I needed water. I shuffled barefoot to the kitchen feet sticking to the floor when my phone buzzed on the counter like it was mad at me. Mr. Harris. I answered, voice scratchy. “Hello?” “Vivian, where the hell are you?” Sharp. No hello. “You were supposed to do the final handover yesterday. If you’re not in tomorrow…” The threat dangled. No sympathy. No “sorry about your wedding.” Just deadlines. My stomach knotted. Work was the only thing I had left. The one thing that hadn’t ditched me. “I’ll be there,” I said, flatter than I meant. “Tomorrow. Promise.” He huffed. “You’d better. We can’t have slip ups right now.” Click. I dropped the phone harder than necessary. Awesome. Jilted, job hanging by a thread, and I had to face the world looking like a train wreck. Right behind my headboard. Thump. Thump. Then music. Heavy, bone-rattling bass that made my picture frames dance. “Seriously?” I groaned, checking the time. Barely 9:00 a.m. Yesterday, he wanted silence for his "precious work." Today, he was turning the building into a nightclub. Fresh anger flared in my chest. If he wanted noise, I’d give him a symphony. I dragged myself to my speakers and cranked my "Angry Girl Breakup" playlist to the max. Thump. Thump. Thump. He banged on the wall. I ignored him and turned it up another notch. “Screw him. Screw Victor. Screw everything!” I shouted over the music. Suddenly, the bass from next door cut out. Silence. Then, a sharp, deliberate knock on my door. I paused the music, my heart hammering, and marched to the door. I yanked it open, ready to breathe fire. He stood there, looking annoyingly handsome in a gray T-shirt that stretched over broad shoulders. He smelled like clean sweat and something woodsy. “You!” I snapped. “Me.” His voice was low, edged with something dangerous. “Your little concert is shaking my floor. Turn it off, or…” “Or what? You’ll call the cops on the girl whose life just exploded?” I crossed my arms, chin up. His eyes traveled over me taking in my messy hair, the mascara stains, and my bare feet. A smirk played on his lips. It wasn't kind. It was cruel. “Heartbroken?” He leaned in, his shadow falling over me. “Funny. Your ex mentioned you were dramatic... but I didn’t expect the full soundtrack.” The blood drained from my face. “What did you just say?” “Your fiancé? Victor?” He leaned against the doorframe, his gaze chillingly calm. “Yeah. We go way back. And trust me, sweetheart… he told me everything before he bailed.” The hallway tilted beneath my feet. He knew my ex?