The Jilted Bride's Revenge: Marrying My Ex's Billionaire Brother

Eleanor Vance stared at the silver dial of her wristwatch. The second hand ticked past the twelve. It was exactly noon.

Her reservation at New York City Hall had officially expired.

She stood in the center of the grand lobby. All around her, couples in white dresses and sharp suits were laughing, kissing, and holding up their marriage certificates for photos. The joyous noise bounced off the marble walls.

A sharp ache squeezed the center of Eleanor's chest. Her throat tightened so fast it was hard to pull air into her lungs. She was standing here completely alone.

She took a deep breath, forcing the panic down into her stomach. Her fingers shook as she unlocked her phone and dialed Caleb's number for the twelfth time.

She pressed the phone to her ear. The line rang three times before the cold, automated voice of his voicemail kicked in.

Eleanor gripped the bouquet of baby's breath in her left hand. She squeezed the stems so hard they snapped. The sharp edges of the broken branches dug into her palm. The slight sting kept her grounded.

Suddenly, the phone in her hand vibrated.

Eleanor gasped and looked at the screen. It wasn't Caleb. It was Chloe, her best friend.

She swiped to answer. "Chloe?"

"Eleanor, are you okay? Did that bastard Caleb not show up? Don't panic, just listen to me," Chloe said. Her voice was tight, vibrating with suppressed anger. "Open Instagram right now and look at Isla's latest update. You'll understand everything."

"What? Why?" Eleanor's fingertips turned cold.

"Just look at it!" Chloe snapped.

Eleanor pulled the phone away from her ear, her thumb trembled as she tapped the Instagram icon. The loading circle spun for a second. The delay made her stomach drop.

Isla's profile picture popped up at the top of the screen. Eleanor tapped it.

A video started playing immediately. A deafening blast of electronic bass music poured out of Eleanor's phone speaker. The sudden noise shattered the quiet of the hallway. A few people turned to stare at her.

The video showed the inside of a VIP booth at a high-end Manhattan club. The lighting was dark red and purple. A massive champagne tower caught the strobe lights.

Eleanor's pupils dilated. The air left her lungs.

Right in the center of the frame, wearing a custom-tailored suit, was Caleb. The man who was supposed to be marrying her right now was pushing a massive, five-tier birthday cake across the room.

Isla stepped into the frame. She was wearing a sparkling diamond tiara. She giggled, leaned close to Caleb, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Caleb didn't pull away. Instead, he smiled and reached out to pat Isla's hair with absolute adoration.

Text flashed across the bottom of the video: Thank you, brother, for the best birthday present! I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have you all to myself today.

The words hit Eleanor like a physical blow to the stomach.

A loud ringing started in her ears. Memories from the past three years rushed into her brain. Caleb canceling dinner because Isla had a headache. Caleb leaving their anniversary trip early because Isla felt lonely.

Her psychological defenses collapsed entirely.

"Miss?" A City Hall employee walked up to her, looking concerned. "Do you need to reschedule your appointment?"

Eleanor looked at the woman. A bitter, pale smile stretched across her face. She shook her head.

The crushing sadness drained out of her body in a matter of seconds. In its place, a hot, violent wave of pure anger flooded her veins. She had been played for an absolute fool.

She turned and walked toward the nearest trash can. She threw the broken bouquet of baby's breath inside without a second glance.

Eleanor turned toward the main doors of City Hall. Her first steps were stiff, but as she walked, her pace quickened. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor.

She pushed her weight against the heavy glass doors. The cold early autumn wind of New York hit her face. It instantly dried the slight moisture in her eyes.

She walked straight to the curb and threw her hand up. A yellow taxi pulled over. Eleanor yanked the back door open and slid onto the worn leather seat.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Apex Club," Eleanor said. Her voice was as cold as ice. "Downtown."

The taxi merged into traffic. The city streets blurred past the window. Eleanor reached up and pulled the white silk ribbon out of her hair-the ribbon she had worn to look like a bride. She dropped it onto the floorboard.

She unlocked her phone again. She hit the screen record button and saved Isla's video. She needed the hard proof.

Then, she opened her text thread with Caleb. She stared at the message he had sent her at eight o'clock this morning: Emergency at the company. Wait for me.

A dark, mocking laugh escaped her lips.

The taxi slammed on its brakes. Eleanor lurched forward slightly. They were parked in front of the flashing neon sign of Apex. The harsh purple light stung her eyes.

Eleanor pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill from her purse and threw it onto the center console. She didn't wait for change. She pushed the door open and stepped out onto the pavement.

Two massive bouncers in black suits immediately stepped in front of the velvet rope. They looked down at her with blank expressions.

"VIP membership card, please," the taller one demanded.

Eleanor didn't step back. She tilted her chin up and stared directly into the bouncer's eyes. "I am Caleb Blackwood's fiancée. He is inside."

The bouncer hesitated. The sheer authority and freezing anger in her eyes made him pause. He exchanged a look with his partner. The second bouncer pressed a finger to his earpiece and muttered something into his radio.

A few seconds later, he nodded. "Mr. Blackwood is in the second-floor VIP lounge."

They unhooked the velvet rope. Eleanor stepped past them. Her high heels hit the floor hard as she walked into the main hall. The smell of cheap vodka, expensive perfume, and sweat hit her nose. The bass of the music vibrated in her chest.

She ignored the mass of bodies grinding on the dance floor. She kept her eyes locked on the spiral staircase leading to the VIP section.

She climbed the stairs quickly. At the end of the second-floor hallway stood a heavy door with gold trim. She could hear the muffled sound of laughter coming from inside.

Eleanor stopped in front of the door. She took one deep breath, filling her lungs with stale air. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the cold metal handle.