Married To The Ruthless Billionaire

The white wedding dress cost three hundred thousand naira. Amara Adeyemi stood in front of the dirty mirror in her small room in Parkview Estate, staring at herself. The dress was rented, not bought. Her father, Chief Adeyemi, had refused to buy a new dress, saying "You are lucky Daniel's family even agreed to marry you after you refused to go to Canada to study nursing like your sister Bianca." But to Amara, it was the most beautiful dress in the world. It was a mermaid gown with lace sleeves, with small pearls sewn at the chest. For a girl who grew up wearing her stepsister's old clothes, this was her first time wearing something brand new, something that was hers alone. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. "Amara! Are you still not dressed? Guests are waiting! The pastor has been waiting for 30 minutes!" Her stepmother, Mrs. Adeyemi, shouted from downstairs, banging the door. Amara quickly wiped the sweat from her forehead. There was no light. Generator was off. Lagos heat was killing her. "I'm coming, Mummy!" she shouted back. She looked at the small clock on her table. 10:15 AM. Her wedding was supposed to start by 10 AM at St. Leo's Catholic Church, Ikeja. Daniel was probably already there, waiting in his black suit. Daniel Martins. Her boyfriend of four years. The man she met in her second year at University of Lagos when she was studying Business Administration. He was two years older, handsome, fair, from a rich family in Lekki. He promised her marriage after her NYSC. He promised her he would love her forever, even though her family was not as rich as his. He promised her he would take care of her sick mother, who had been on dialysis for six months and needed 15 million naira for a kidney transplant. Daniel was her escape. Her hope. Her phone rang. It was her best friend, Tolu. "Girl! Where are you? We are in church already! The church is full! Your father and your stepmother are already seated! Even your mother is here from the hospital! She came with her wheelchair! Where is your husband to be? We haven't seen him!" Amara smiled, her heart beating fast. "I'm coming, Tolu. My makeup artist just finished. I'm wearing my dress now. My father said the driver will come and pick me." "Driver? Which driver? Amara, Daniel's family said there is no driver coming. They said Daniel is already in church. Just take Uber fast fast!" Amara frowned. "No driver? But Daddy said..." The door burst open. It was Bianca, her stepsister. Bianca was wearing a short, tight, red dress that showed all her curves, with full makeup, looking like she was going to a club, not her sister's wedding. She was holding her phone and smiling wickedly. "Oh, wow. You actually look... not ugly for once in that rented dress," Bianca said, crossing her arms. "Too bad the wedding is not happening." Amara's heart stopped. "What? What do you mean?" Bianca laughed and brought her phone closer, showing Amara a video. It was a video of Daniel. Her Daniel. In a hotel room at Radisson Blu. Shirtless. Kissing Bianca. Bianca who was wearing only a bra. And Daniel's voice in the background: "Bianca, you are so much sweeter than Amara. That village girl can't even satisfy me in bed. I was only managing her because her father promised to give me land in Epe. But now that you are here, I don't need her. Let's run away together after today. I can't marry her." The phone fell from Amara's hand. "No..." Amara whispered. "No, no, no, this is not true. This is edited. Bianca, you edited this!" "Edited? Ask your groom. Call him. Let's see if he will pick your call," Bianca said, her smile growing wider. Amara's hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold her phone. She dialed Daniel's number. It rang. And rang. And rang. On the fourth ring, he picked. "Hello? Amara?" Daniel's voice. Nervous. "Daniel, where are you? The church is waiting. Tolu said you are in church already..." Silence on the other side. Then Daniel sighed. "Amara, listen. I... I can't do it. I can't marry you. I'm sorry." The world stopped. "What... what are you saying, Daniel?" Amara's voice broke. Tears started pouring. "I'm in love with Bianca. I've been in love with her for six months. You are a good girl, Amara, but you are... you are too boring. Too church girl. You don't know how to please a man. And your mother's sickness is too much burden. 15 million every time. I can't carry it. Bianca's family has money. Her mother will help my business. I'm sorry, Amara. Please, just tell everyone the wedding is cancelled." Amara couldn't breathe. The 300k rented wedding dress suddenly felt like it was choking her. The pearls felt like stones. "Daniel... today is our wedding... my mother left the hospital for this..." "I'm sorry," Daniel said and cut the call. Amara stared at the phone. The call ended. 2 minutes 13 seconds. That's how long it took to destroy four years of her life. Bianca clapped slowly. "So, as I was saying, the wedding is not happening. Daniel is with me now. He is taking me to Dubai next week. He said he will marry me properly, not this cheap rented gown and church in Ikeja. A real wedding in Maldives." Amara looked up at Bianca, tears streaming down her face, ruining her expensive makeup that cost 25k. "Why? Bianca, why? I am your sister..." Bianca rolled her eyes. "Step-sister. And you have always been jealous of me. You think because you are doing Masters and forming bookworm, you are better than me? Let me tell you, in this life, beauty and street smartness is what matters. Not your first-class. Daniel chose beauty. He chose me." Bianca turned and walked out, then stopped at the door. "Oh, and Daddy said you should not come downstairs in that wedding dress and disgrace the family. He said you should stay in your room until all guests leave. He doesn't want people to laugh at us." The door slammed. Amara sank to the floor, in her white wedding dress, in the hot room with no light, and cried. She cried so loud that the neighbors could hear. She cried for her mother who left the hospital bed to see her wedding. She cried for the 300k her father borrowed for the rented gown. She cried for four years wasted. Her phone kept ringing. Tolu. Her mother. Pastor. Unknown numbers. She didn't pick any. After one hour of crying, she wiped her face, stood up, took off the wedding veil, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was ruined, her eyes swollen. "I will not stay in this room and be a joke," she whispered to herself. She picked her small handbag, put her phone inside, and in her full wedding dress and white heels, she ran out of the house. She ran past her stepmother who was shouting "Amara! Where are you going in that dress?! You want to disgrace us more?!" She ran into the hot Lagos afternoon, into the street, and stopped a keke. "Where to, madam? Why are you wearing wedding gown for afternoon?" the keke man asked, shocked. Amara didn't know where to go. She just said, "To the nearest bar. Any bar. Just drive." The keke man drove her to a bar in Allen Avenue called "The Rooftop." It was a big bar where rich people go. Amara walked into the bar at 12:47 PM, in a full white wedding dress, with smudged makeup and swollen eyes. Everyone turned and stared. The bartender, a young man, looked at her with pity. "Madam... are you okay?" Amara slammed her handbag on the counter. "Give me the strongest drink you have. The most expensive. I just got jilted at the altar. Today was my wedding day." The whole bar went quiet. And in the VIP section upstairs, a man in a black suit, with cold eyes and a glass of whiskey in his hand, looked down at the strange girl in a wedding dress who just walked into his bar and demanded alcohol at noon. His name was Alexander Kane. And he had been watching her since she entered. That was how Amara Adeyemi, the girl who was dumped on her wedding day, met Alexander Kane, the ruthless billionaire who would become her husband in less than 24 hours.