Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

Billionaires Revenge Kickass Heroine Revenge Female-centered Ex-wife

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RACHAEL'S POV

Sitting across from Amy, sunlight filtering through the café windows casting soft rays on our table, I am lost in our conversation reminiscing about the good old days.

"Remember that time we went to Ibiza for our birthdays?" Amy asks, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

"You almost missed the flight because you insisted on entering that store. "I laugh, shaking my head at the memory.

"Hey, I had to get those boots! They were gorgeous."

Amy raises her glass, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"And now look at us. Thirty and still day drinking like we're twenty-five." I clink my glass against hers, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through me, not just from the daytime drinks but from the joy of spending this moment with my best friend.

We had been through so much together, from wild nights in college and spontaneous trips to heartbreaks and new beginnings. Today felt like a nod to our youth, but with a touch of something deeper and more meaningful.

"I can't believe you're thirty," Amy says, setting her glass down and reaching for her purse.

"I got you something."

"Oh no, you didn't have to. Your sparkling company is enough." I tease."

She rolls her eyes and pulls out a small velvet box. I blink, surprised, as she hands it to me. I open the box slowly, and there it is: the necklace. The one I had seen when I was young, the one I had promised myself that I would buy the minute I started making money but never did.

"Amy..." My voice trails off as I run my fingers over the delicate chain, as it twinkles in the sunlight. It was exactly as I remembered. Simple, elegant.

"I know how much you wanted it," she says softly, watching me. "I thought it was time you had it."

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I blink back quickly, not wanting to get too emotional in public.

"It's perfect. Thank you."

After enjoying a few more sips of our drinks, I can't stop the excitement bubbling up inside me.

"You know, I have a feeling Jack's up to something today. He's been acting weird all week. I'm sure he's planning some sort of surprise party, and you're in on it too, aren't you?"

Amy looks at me innocently, but a guilty smile tugs at her lips. "Me? I have no idea what you're talking about, Rachael. I haven't seen Jack all week."

"Oh, please!" I laugh.

"You've been plotting this birthday lunch for days. I bet you're just stalling me so he can get everything ready at home." Amy shrugs, giving nothing away. We finish our drinks with a toast to the big three-oh.

"Happy birthday, my love," Amy says with a wink as we hug goodbye.

I leave the café a little tipsy, the necklace she had gifted me bouncing lightly against my chest as I walk to the car. My heart is racing with excitement, my mind spinning with thoughts of what Jack could have planned.

A party, maybe? Or a romantic dinner for two? I can't wait to get home and find out whatever it is.

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