I Was Dumped At The Altar, So I Married My Fiancé's Billionaire Rival

The music stopped. I stood at the altar, clutching my bouquet so tightly that the stems dug into my palm. For a moment, I smiled. It was instinctive. Maybe something had gone wrong with the musicians. Maybe Ethan was running late. Or maybe the priest had been given the wrong signal. I looked toward the cathedral doors. They remained closed. I waited. One minute. Then two. Then five. The silence became unbearable. Hundreds of people were staring at me now. My guests, Ethan's family, business associates, my friends. Strangers who had probably paid more attention to the wedding because our last names were worth billions. Everyone was waiting for the groom. So was I. I glanced at the clock above the entrance. Fourteen minutes. Ethan was fourteen minutes late. This wasn't like him. Ethan Backwoods could be many things. He could be stubborn, arrogant, occasionally infuriating but he was never late. Especially not today. Not on our wedding day. He'll be here. I repeated it to myself silently. He'll be here. My father caught my eye from the front row. “Dad?” He immediately looked away. My stomach tightened. I stepped down from the altar. “Dad, where's Ethan?” “Stay where you are, Sienna.” His voice was low. Too low. I stared at him. “Where is he?” “We're handling it.” “What does that mean?” He didn't answer. My mother was several feet away, whispering furiously into her phone. “No,” she said. “I said find him. I don't care where he is.” She turned away from me. My heart began beating faster. “Mom?” She glanced over her shoulder. Our eyes met. For one strange second, I saw fear on her face. Then it vanished. “Go back to the altar.” “Where's Ethan?” “He'll be here.” She smiled. It was the kind of smile mothers gave children when they were trying to hide something terrible. “He'll be here, sweetheart.” I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to. I looked toward the doors again. Nothing. Another five minutes passed. Then another. The whispers started. At first, they were quiet. Barely audible. Then they grew. “What happened?” “Has anyone seen Ethan?” “His best man isn't answering.” “I heard his car left an hour ago.” “No, that's impossible.” Someone laughed nervously. I felt every word like a pinprick against my skin. I lowered my gaze to my bouquet. The roses were white. I'd chosen them because Ethan once told me white roses reminded him of me. Pure. Elegant. Simple. I almost laughed. There was nothing simple or elegant about this. My maid of honor hurried toward me. “Sienna.” “What happened?” She looked terrified. “I've been calling Ethan.” “And?” “His phone is off.” I stared at her. “Off?” She nodded. “Since when?” “About thirty minutes ago.” Thirty minutes. My heart dropped. Thirty minutes since the music stopped. Thirty minutes since I walked down the aisle expecting to marry the man I'd loved for eleven years. Thirty minutes since I became a woman waiting for a man who wasn't coming. “No,” I whispered. My friend reached for my hand. “He might have had an emergency.” “An emergency?” “Maybe something happened.” Yes. That had to be it. An accident. A family emergency. A business problem. Anything. Anything except... My phone vibrated. I pulled it from my purse. Twenty-three notifications. I frowned. Then I opened the first one. My blood ran cold. BREAKING: ETHAN BACKWOODS MISSING FROM HIS OWN WEDDING. I stared at the headline. Another notification appeared. BACKWOODS HEIR FAILS TO APPEAR AT HIGH-PROFILE WEDDING. Then another. IS ETHAN BACKWOODS ABOUT TO DUMP HIS BRIDE AT THE ALTAR? My fingers began to shake. “No.” I looked around. Phones were everywhere. People were recording me. A woman in the second row raised her camera. Flash. Another. Flash. Someone whispered: “Oh my God, she's been left.” The words spread through the cathedral like smoke. Left. My throat closed. I looked at my father. “Dad.” He didn't look at me. That was when I knew. My mother stopped whispering. My father stopped pretending. Nobody was looking at me because they were waiting for Ethan anymore. They were looking at me because they knew. I turned toward the cathedral doors. Still closed. “Is he coming?” No one answered. My voice cracked. “Is Ethan coming?” My mother walked toward me. “Sienna—” “Is he coming?” She stopped. Her eyes filled with something that looked dangerously close to pity. I hated it. “I'm sorry.” Two words. That's all it took. Something inside me broke. I laughed. A tiny, breathless sound escaped me. “No.” “Sienna.” “No.” I shook my head. “He wouldn't.” My mother reached for me. I stepped back. “He wouldn't do this.” She said nothing. My bouquet slipped from my fingers. The roses scattered across the marble floor. For eleven years, I'd imagined walking down this aisle. I'd imagined Ethan waiting for me. I'd imagined his face when he saw my dress. I'd imagined the vows. The ring. Our first kiss as husband and wife. Our life together. I had never imagined walking away alone. But I wasn't going to cry. Not here. Not in front of all these people. I straightened my shoulders. Then I walked. One step. Then another. The cathedral was silent except for the clicking of cameras. Every person I passed looked at me. Some looked sympathetic. Some looked shocked. Some looked entertained. I kept my eyes forward. I would not give them tears. I would not give them the satisfaction. I reached the doors. My hand closed around the handle. Then the doors opened from the other side. I stopped. A man stood there. Tall. Immaculately dressed in a black suit. Dark hair. Sharp features. A face I'd seen on magazine covers, business channels and newspaper headlines more times than I could count. I knew him. Everyone did. Damian Sterling. My heartbeat stumbled. The billionaire CEO of Sterling Group. The man who had spent years fighting my family's company. The man Ethan hated. No. Not even hate. Ethan despised him. I'd heard them tear each other apart in boardrooms and interviews. I'd heard Ethan call Damian a parasite. I'd heard Damian refer to Hayes Holdings as a dying empire. And now he was standing in front of me. At my wedding. He stepped through the doors. The entire cathedral fell silent. Damian's eyes found mine. He didn't look at the guests. He didn't look at my parents. He looked only at me. Then he started walking. Toward me. Slowly. Calmly. As though this were exactly where he was supposed to be. I couldn't move. He stopped in front of me. Close enough that I had to tilt my head slightly to look at him. His expression was unreadable. “Damian,” I whispered. His gaze traveled over my wedding dress before returning to my eyes. “If you want to leave this church with your dignity intact…” He paused. My heart pounded. “…marry me.” I stared at him. For a moment, I honestly wondered if I'd finally lost my mind. “You're insane.” Damian's gaze didn't move. “Probably.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the hundreds of people watching us. Then back to me. “But I'm the only man in this room who's still willing to make you his wife.”